Let them eat toast

Back in the late 60's and the very early 70's I worked at the Red Carpet in Hutchinson, Kansas.  I think I was there a total of 6 or 7 years.  My mind does not retain dates well at all.  The point was that I was not married to Duane any more and needed to work to feed 5 kids.  I was cook, kitchen manager and baker.  I decorated cakes as a side job for extra money.  I also worked in the Bakery down on South Main.  I did that at night.

Any way, if you know anything about restaurant work, you know that it all revolves around the cook.  If the cook does not like you, the orders are slow coming out of the kitchen and might not look quite as neat as other orders, so it is a good idea to stay on the good side of the cook.  My waitresses loved me.  Any excuse for a holiday was reason to shower gifts on Lou.  One birthday I was sent to Wichita to the Charlie Pride concert because I loved that man!  Also that entailed a plethora of 8 track tapes being bought and delivered to my hand by my workers.  I miss the 8 track players.

This morning I lay in my bed remembering those days.  And I remembered that one birthday they gave me a 4 slice toaster because I had mentioned that my toaster no longer worked.  It was a very nice toaster, all shiny and clean.  As luck would have it I kept my empty freezer full of bread because that was more efficient than running an empty freezer.  And bread was cheap.  I think it was 5 loaves for $1.00.

I also had a live in babysitter.  Her name was Janice and she was married to the boss's son who was in Viet Nam at the time.  That is a whole 'nuther story.  She was not the most ambitious person I had encountered, but she did keep the kids off the streets at night.

My regular shift was 5:00 AM-2:00 PM.  Then I came home and had a nap and went to work at the bakery at 10:00PM-till the bread was all sliced and sacked.  On Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday I came back to the restaurant and was back up cook, dish washer, salad girl, or whatever needed to be done.  This one particular night, after I received the toaster, I worked backup.  So I was there from 5-10 and then at the bakery until 11:30.

When I drug myself home, it was almost midnight.  The house was dark and everyone asleep.  I let myself in the back door  and flipped on the light over the kitchen sink.  My eyes fell on a plate full of toast on the counter.  And then another!  The whole counter on both sides of the sink was filled with plates full of toast.  So was the kitchen table!  And the stove!  And the wash machine!

I was still staring at the piles of toast when Sammy came out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes.  He came over and hugged me.  Then the mystery was solved when he said,

"I made you supper!  I ran out of butter, but I thought you could get some more tomorrow."

It is 50 some odd years later and I still remember the look on his face.  He had made supper for him momma.  He was so proud.  I am not sure just how much toast he thought I could hold, but this was a bonding moment.  He and I were alone in the half lit kitchen while his sisters slept and we ate dry toast in the middle of the night.  Probably the best mid night snack I have ever had.

I do not remember what became of all that toast, but I am sure some where there were birds that enjoyed a feast.  (At that time we did not know that commercial bread was not good for ducks, and crows and other feathered things.)

I kind of miss the good old days with the kids, but I rather imagine they are glad those days are behind them.  But just for old time sake I think I will go make a piece of toast for my breakfast.  I actually have butter!

Should I or shouldn't I?

I woke up in a new world this morning!  For some reason I woke up thinking about dating!  Now you must realize that I have had my share of husbands, but they do not really count.  I can not remember ever really dating.  You know the thing where some guy calls you up and says "Would you like to go out to dinner and then catch a movie?"   No, that never happened.  Usually, I meet some guy and the next thing I know I am Mrs. So and So.

I do recall back in Hutch when I met a guy who played lead guitar in a band and he invited me to come and watch him play and then we would grab a bite to eat.  Sounded good, but in the meantime I bought a restaurant and got involved in the cleaning process  and buying groceries so I could open Monday morning and completely spaced that date out and he must have been ticked because he never called again.  And then I married Charlie and we moved to Colorado.  After a divorce or 2 I met Kenny and that is now history.  9 years after he passed, I met a guy named Sherman.  He occupied 2 years of my life off and on until he died in 2012.  I then "hung out" and hiked with a guy named Dan until I decided that was a lost cause.  We went out to eat one night, and of course it was my turn to pay.  When we parted it was with his words, "Next time it will be my turn."  Now that was 4 years ago and I have not seen him since.

So back to the business at hand.  I think I would like to go on a date.  Now, I am not going to run out and willy nilly date some guy.  I think I would like to date a blue eyed man.  I really like the brown eyed men, but I have not had very good luck with them.  3 of my husbands were brown eyed and while I can get lost in their eyes, I find them to be kind of sneaky and not very forthright.  "Eyes of blue; a love that's true.  Eyes of brown will let you down."

Forthrightness is something I value in a man.  Men that have lasted any length of time in my life were blue eyed men.  Duane was around for 10 years.  Kenny lasted 20 years before he died on me.  And dear little Sherman and I were engaged to be married when he drew his last breathe.  The last guy I entertained the idea of dating was brown eyed and I think he stepped off the face of the earth, because I have not seen nor heard from him in a very long time.  Such is the perils of caring for one of the creatures.

So, back to this dating business.  I think I would like to date, but then I remember all that entails.  I may not be up to it.  I do not want to go out at night, because I can not see to drive, so he would have to pick me up at my house and I do not want anyone to know where I live.  I could meet him at the end of the drive, but I am afraid of the dark.  So it would have to be in the afternoon, but then I sleep through Jeopardy! from 3:00-3:30.  So if I could meet him at 4:00 and we could have a 2 hour date that would be good.  See Jeopardy! comes on again at 6:30.  And on the eye color, if he could have one blue eye and one brown eye, that would be perfect.  Oh, and he needs to be over 5'7" and under 6'3".  Any shorter and he can not protect me and any taller gives me a crick in my neck.  He has to have a sense of humor.  He has to believe in God and I prefer a Protestant as opposed to a Catholic.  That is not a deal breaker, just a preference.  One of my husbands was a Catholic.  So was Sherman.  He has to like kids and liver and onions.

Well, I just reread what I had written and I am thinking, I may be better off if I just go to the pound and get a dog.  A dog will have brown eyes.  A dog will love me unconditionally, as long as I don't beat it.  A dog is warm.  Sadly, a dog will shed, but I have looked at my hair brush and I am doing a pretty good job of that myself.

So, I guess, what I am looking for is someone that will take me out to eat.  Entertain me with intelligent inane chatter, pay the bill and then disappear into a puff of smoke.  I am not real sure such a man exists.  If you see one, throw a net over his head and call me.  I just might be interested!  Or not.

This would be my oldest brother, Richard Nichols.  He was my father's oldest son, by his first wife.

 This is William E. Bartholomew who was my fathers second son by his first wife.  Both of them were in World War II and both of them were shell shocked, Richard more so than Gene.  This picture is from an obituary that Sam found on Ancestry.com.  He apparently lived in Seattle, Washington when he died in1973.

I never really knew my step brothers because they were grown and gone when I was old enough to know I had them.  Since Gene was the only one that was not adopted from the orphanage, he tended to check in with dad occasionally.  I do know he had lived for a while with a family named Banks.  It seemed that they were either from Nebraska or close to that area.    An obituary that my son found on Ancestry shows he died in 1973.  So there was a span of about 20 years that he had a life in Washington.  If anyone has any knowledge of him during that time, I would sure like to know.  I hope he had a family that loved him.  Life is strange.

So I guess I will put that brother to bed since I at least know he has been dead for 46 years.  Rest in peace, Gene.

And now I am off to bed.

It has taken me 77 years, but finally I get it.  My greatest failure in life has been the one that I thought was a virtue.  I have failed in 6 marriages and God only knows how many relationships and never had a glimmer that any of those failures were really my fault, but they were.  Today I am closing the door on all of those and adopting a new outlook on life.  I have watched other women walk all over their husbands and lovers and brow beat them into submission.  I have watched jealousy rear it's ugly head in those instances and watched as those same couples celebrated year after year.  And here I set alone.

Today I am closing that door on another relationship that I thought was a friendship that would endure, but that is not happening.  Why?  Because I once more put my heart and soul into something that was not to be.  I thought I was needed, but I wasn't.  I was used.  That is what I do best....I get used.  I ask for nothing, hence I get nothing.  Along with that relationship I am bidding farewell to a family member that no longer needs me.

You see, I am a trusting person.  If you tell me something, I believe it.  My word is my bond, hence, your word I took as your bond.  I help you up and you return the favor.  That works until I need a hand up, or an ear to listen, or a kind word.  I realize I do have friends that are just that, but I keep remembering something mother told me.  "You will have friends in your life, but if you can reach the end of your life and count all your friends on one hand, you are blessed."  Right now, I am not feeling very blessed.  I am feeling used.

The sad part is that the two people who have brought me to this point (realization) in my life will never know what a sad part they played in my decision unless some one draws them a picture.  They do not read this blog.  They do not know that I even have a vulnerable side, nor will they know it.  I guess I was happiest when I volunteered at hospice.  I was eleventh hour and I knew where my clients were in their journey.  I was blessed to take many to  the edge and over.  I became a part of the family and for the most part I could walk back into their homes and I would be welcomed with open arms.  I liked feeling like I had helped, but I do not do that anymore.  My last client was my last and I will not do that again.

It hurts when I pour myself into something and get nothing in return, so I am not taking that chance again.  I am sure I will go on helping people, but what I will not do is let my little heart become attached to any one or anything.  Life is too short for that.  So to my friends out there who have not handed me the short shaft, we are good.  Not to worry, but the two that left me with this hole in my heart, just know that I am done.  No more.  If I see you on the street I will smile, but do not look into my eyes, because all you will see is an empty heart.

Alive and well and wishing otherwise.

I remember back when I was young and starting my life as an adult.  I was filled with hope and joy at the future ahead of me.  I had a wonderful husband who loved me and our life would be complete if we had a child.  Of course it must be a son.  Nothing else would work.  So after a year or so, I finally got pregnant.  And then I had the baby.  It was a girl, heaven forbid so we had to try again right away.  My husband was adamant that the next one be a son.  Whoops!  foiled again.  The third one was also a girl and by this time my loving husband was fed up with me and my failure to give him an heir.  After much begging and pleading, he gave me one last chance.  I was filled with gratitude at this magnanimous man and the kindness he showed me after 3 complete failures.  This time I did it right!  I gave him his son.

Of course that marriage went South like a fart in a whirlwind!  Not even the birth of his son could save it.  But then there was the divorce and then the brief reconciliation.  And then the second divorce which was delayed a bit because I was busy giving birth to my 4th daughter.   All of this is history and is not relevant to much of anything, except facts.  And you do know that the facts as I remember them and how he remembers them are not necessarily the same.  I was 3 years younger than him when we married, but he was 3 years younger then me in his latter years.  Mother always said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and the same goes with truth.  One man's truth is another man's fantasy,  much like one man's pleasure is another man's pain.  But I digress.

One thing I have always held dear was life!  I was invincible in my younger years and my zest for life was what kept my head above water when I was sinking in emotional pain.  And I survived.  And here I am today wondering just what in the hell all of that was about.  My kids are grown and gone away and have kids and grandkids of their own.  Mother, father, sisters, brother, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends be damned.  They are all gone.  I try to look up the family tree and see someone above me and it just ain't happening.   And it isn't just the people, every thing is different.  I go to Nickerson and the house is gone.  All the houses on Strong Street have been replaced.  It is still pretty much a ghetto, but it was my ghetto.  I go to Hutchinson, where I spent most of the time with the kids and that house is gone also along with the house next door.

And now I am in Pueblo, Colorado for the last 40 years.  My in-laws are all gone except for one brother in law that I never see.  My husband is gone and has been for almost 20 years.  Where does this all end?  All the pictures on my desk are pictures of the past.  Two old grandma's, a mother and father on their wedding day, a brother as he was frozen in time in the 7th grade.  What do people do when they get too old to be useful any more?  Do they just wither away?  I did the volunteering thing. Now what?  Make cookies?  Water the plants?  How long does that take?

So I lay in my bed at night and go over what I have done and it looks like a pretty pathetic showing in the grand scheme of things.  I remember a dark haired girl and the dreams she had of being a missionary. And I escape to that world.   But then I wake up and I look down at my sleeve and I see, coming out of the sleeve, my mothers hand. 

Lost and lonely little dog update

As it turns out, I in my usual rush to judgement, got it wrong.   As it turns out the little lost dog that I assumed had been dumped, is indeed a very loved little dog and was being looked for by his family.  He lives near the intersection and had some how gotten himself lost.  His family missed him very much and were advertising and searching for him.

Whether my article had any part in him being reunited with his family or not, I do not know, but I do know he is home.  I know he is a he.  And I am very happy.  Last information I had was that he was home.  He was limping.  And he was sleeping with his boy.

All is well here in my corner of the world!  And there is indeed a God that takes care of our furry friends.

Lost and lonely little dog.

A day or so ago I was returning home down 27th Lane and saw a little dog setting in the field on the corner of 27th and County Farm.  I thought that strange.  Today I saw him again in the same place so I pulled around the corner and stopped.  It looked at me hopefully and then turned and ran back up the field.  It was not hard to figure out that someone had dumped it.  I walked a ways into the field and tried to coax it to me.  No way.  I was not the human it wanted.  So I got back in my car and did the only thing I knew to do, I came home.  I loaded up some cat food and water and went back down to the field.  The little dog was back in its regular waiting place, but once more ran away.  I put the food down and poured the water in the container.  The little dog watched me.  I took a step towards it and it ran away.  So I got in my car and left.

I will not sleep tonight.  I will be thinking about that little dog.  I wish I could meet the person who left the poor little animal.  I would ask them if when they tossed it out on that corner, if it tried to chase the car and catch up with them.  Did you even look back?  What did that poor little doggie do to deserve being left in a field?  There are coyotes and foxes out here that will make a meal of that helpless little creature.  Oh, do you think it is going to catch something and eat it to survive?  Or some fool like me will come along and it will jump in my car and I will take it home and it will live happily ever after?  I would, you know, but it is waiting for you.  I will say this, you do not deserve loyalty like that.  God has a special place for people like you.

I do not have a dog.  My little dog died.  It was one just like yours.   I still cry myself to sleep missing my little animals and assholes like you throw them away.  The world is full of stray dogs and cats that were cute little puppies or kitties, but then they grew up and may have actually peed on the floor.  Whose fault was that?  Whose job was it to teach them that was wrong?  Or they might have shed on your couch.  Heaven forbid.  What ever the circumstances that left that little dog out in that field all alone, it is not right.  I am going to pray very hard tonight that God will touch your heart wherever you are and whomever you are and you will get in your car and drive back out to 27th Lane and County Farm and pick your little dog back up.  You do not have to keep it.  You can bring it to my house.  Or call me and I will come pick it up.  I am just too old to chase it through a field when it wants you.  But if you hand it to me, I will take it and give it a very good home.

Just in case...my number is 546-1555.  and my name is Lou.