Archive for the ‘Humor’ category
May 25, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May 25, 2018
She met me in the driveway. Her mom (our daughter) was heading to her next to last day of school, teaching fourth graders, and her brother and sister were heading to the same school for their education.
But she was staying!
“Hi, Granddad!”
Corin, our three year old granddaughter, was ready. We blew and chased bubbles for thirty minutes and then pursued an imaginary creature she referred to as the beast. I made the mistake of calling the beast “her”, and was quickly corrected on the gender! A few minutes later I had to share an imaginary Happy Meal with Chicken McNuggets with the beast.
We took a walk…a long walk!
Not once did she have to look at her cell phone. Her imagination and grandfather were enough to occupy her time and keep her attention.
The day before I had substitute taught 8th Grade Science for a third straight day. Thus, 8th Grade girls! The differences between the three year old and the girls in my Wednesday classroom are more than just eleven years of life and size. They are also worlds apart.
A three year old’s life is uncomplicated. 8th Grade girls are complicated! Corin’s decisions included what kind of juice she wanted to drink and whether we should play inside or outside. 8th Grade girls make decisions on which path to go down. Many of them choose the path of wisdom and common sense. Some choose the narrow path of uncertainty, where a wind or a sudden stumble can send them falling in one direction or the other. But there are others who have chosen the path that leads to destruction. It is a way that often features defiance and drama, a deafness to reason and a blindness to consequences.
Before cell phones and social media it seems that deciding which path an adolescent would take came a couple of years later, but life has sped up to a scary pace of change.
The girls in my science classes this week, that I had also taught last year in an awesome long-term substitute teaching experience of 7th Grade Social Studies, listened to me, talked to me, and remembered the January journey we had walked together. Many of the ones that didn’t know me blew me off as irrelevant and, since I’m “old”, uncool!
The paths are as different as east is from west. The distance between them results in a lack of hearing or, more accurately, an unwillingness to hear someone who is going in the other direction.
And I had a growing yearning for my three year old “play buddy” to stay that age! I longed for her to stay at that point of deciding on what kind of juice she was going to drink and what imaginary creature Granddad was going to share a Happy meal with.
Categories: children, Christianity, coaching, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 3 year olds, 8th grade, 8th Grade girls, common sense, deaf to reason, Granddaughter, middle school, middle school girls, middle schoolers, path that leads to destruction, reasoning, substitute teacher, substitute teaching, wisdom
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May 18, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May 18, 2018
Day 3 of the Christian Writer’s Conference is upon me. There are a lot of people here just like me, hoping and praying that some editor or agent likes their manuscript or idea for a book so much that they hand them a business card and say, “Send it to me!”
That happened in my first appointment yesterday, and I could sense the rising up of tears. Not all of my 15 minute appointments ended up like that, but a couple did. I have two more today and one tomorrow.
It was encouraging to hear the leader of our Fiction Intensive Clinic say that there were many more who applied to be in that group who were sent letters saying “Sorry!” He told the six of us that were accepted that although each of us had things to work on there was potential in each of our writings to be taken to the next level.
The group spends an hour on each of the admissions, which are usually about the first 10-14 pages of the manuscript. My turn comes Saturday morning and then I will have a half hour Saturday afternoon with the instructor.
This conference is about learning- learning to write more effectively, learning that there are other aspects to getting a book published besides pecking out 100,000 words on my AirBook, learning new terminology, and learning many of the little things that raise a writer’s readability level.
I’m also learning that it’s necessary to risk. Coming here is risky, because you may get trampled on. Years ago, my fiction clinic instructor was ready to walk out of the same conference because he was so discouraged, but the conference coordinator got a hold of him and gave him a word of encouragement. Years later he’s now the fiction class leader, and author of a number of books.
There are other conference first-timers here, just like me, but the bulk of the attendees have been coming to this conference for years. They know what to do and where to go. There’s been a few times where I’ve looked like a new freshman standing in the hallway of his new highs chool trying to figure out where the Band Room is.
We all come with stories that we think are the best thing since sliced bread. They are our babies that we want to protect. Having someone suggest that a writer might change the story or the wording sometimes feels like another person telling you to change the way you parent your baby.
Through it all, I’ve become more thankful for the God who leads and guides us and the people he brings along the path to walk with us.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, coaching, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: appointments, Colorado Christian Writer's Conference, critique, Encouragement, Estes Park Christian Writer's Conference, Fiction Intensive Clinic, learning to write, rookie, writer's conference, writing, writing fiction, writing skill
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May 15, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May 15, 2018
The Estes Park Christian Writer’s Conference is one day away and I’m feeling like a jittery five year old about to hug his mom and walk with shaking knees into his kindergarten class for the first day of school. What will happen? What if I have to go to the bathroom? What if I fall on the playground and skin my knee, or tip over the building blocks accidentally? What if my teacher doesn’t like me and makes me stand in the corner?
Kindergarten questions simply get redressed into grownup worries. As I head to the conference the questions cloud my mind like the halo on top of Pike’s Peak this morning.
What if my clinic teacher tells me that my writing really sucks? What if they use literary terms that I have no clue about? What is the people there are about half a bubble off center…you know, the elevator doesn’t go to the top floor? What if I have to go to the bathroom really bad? (As you can tell, I’m a bit concerned about taking care of “my business!”) What if I get asked a question and my mind goes as blank as a stare? What if I get Gordon Ramsay for an instructor, complete with English accent and expletives?
When you have never experienced something you begin to let your mind wander to dark places.
I WAS accepted as one of six people in the Fiction Intensive Clinic. I had to send my book synopsis and first chapter to the clinic teacher about two months ago and the six of us that were accepted were notified at the end of April. Each of us now has the first chapter and synopsis of the others in the group. There will be some major critiquing and, hopefully, encouragement as we learn about writing tendencies and bad habits.
I will have appointments with a few literary agents, with hopes that someone will be interested in my book enough to express desire in getting it in front of some publishers. In the midst of this is some personal pride about the story I’ve created, the characters I’ve come to love, and the value of the message that the book brings. My stomach becomes a bit queasy thinking that I’ve written four hundred pages that might get trashed. Actually, I’ve written eight hundred plus pages, because the sequel to the first book has already had its first draft finished. The third book has already been started. Through the pages of type I’ve come to love the characters like the ninth grader, Randy Bowman, and his seventh grade neighbor and friend, Ethan Thomas. It hit me a while ago that I WAS Ethan Thomas in seventh grade and I wanted to be Randy Bowman when I was a freshman. In the course of the first two books Randy helps Ethan become more than he ever thought he could be, a kid easily unseen in the midst of his school who is mentored and befriended towards the discovery of potential and value.
And, that is also why there is anxiety about this new experience. I’m all in with the story! Like a fourteen year old who discovers his name is not on the list of players who made the basketball team, I’m trying to brace myself for the possibility of disappointment, but also hold out hope that…something just might happen!
Regardless, I believe that God has orchestrated this moment. I’m just hoping that it doesn’t sound like a harmonica in the midst of a wind ensemble!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, coaching, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: anxiety, author, authoring a book, book publishers, characters, characters in a book, creating, Estes Park Christian Writer's Conference, failing, fiction, fiction writing, literary agent, not making the team, sequels, story creation, trying but failing, uncertainty, writing fiction
Comments: 3 Comments
May 13, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May 13, 2018
I received the good news this week. Next school year I’ll be coaching middle school cross-country. It’s a return, in many ways, to my roots!
When I was a junior in high school I started running cross-country. My path had been pre-determined by the previous school year’s track program. At a cold early April triangular meet at Fairland High School in Proctorville, Ohio, the Ironton High School head track coach, Bill Trent, had asked if anyone was interested in running in the two mile race that day. Our team needed another runner to compete, or at least jog. Although I had been the Wood County, West Virginia, eight year old 50 yard dash champion…that had been almost eight years in the rearview mirror. This was my chance to run varsity…as a sophomore!
“But it’s Twwwooooo Miles!”
And it was cold with a chilling rain mist making it even more miserable!
“I’ll run, Coach!”
“Okay, Billy! Do the best you can!”
I don’t remember my time that day…something like fourteen minutes! I remember that I wasn’t last, beat a couple of other runners, endured the wet wind on the back stretch, and scored a point for our team with a fourth place finish.
And suddenly I was a distance runner! My time dropped three minutes in the next few weeks and I finished the season with a fifth place finish at the league meet in Athens. It paved the way for the fall cross-country season, and a summer of running on top of the flood walls of Ironton.
Lance Clanton was the cross-country coach. I don’t think Coach Clanton had much experience with running, but IHS needed someone to keep a pack of running fools in line. During the school day he was the industrial arts teacher. He is the only industrial arts teacher I have ever met who was also a cross-country coach!
We were a mediocre team not quite understanding the race tactics and practice ideas of the new school sport. Our home course include one part where we ran down into a dump area next to the school, affectionately called “the Sand Pit”, and back up again. Interval training was a foreign concept. One goofy runner named Eugene would climb a tree and wait for everyone to come back past him on a route we would run from the high school down to the cemetery and back. Actually, we were all a bit goofy, a few nerds before that term became commonplace, a couple of athletes, and a few others thrown into the mix who had nothing better to do after school.
Two years after that I was wearing a t-shirt that had Miami of Ohio on the front of it. I was 16th man on a sixteen man roster, which means I was able to wear the t-shirt, run in the home meets, and endure the exhausting practices. Miami finished 7th at the NCAA nationals that year. I was not a factor in their success, but it did teach me a lot about what cross-country is and isn’t!
Two years later I was arriving on the small campus of Judson College in Elgin, Illinois to complete the last two years of my college education. Soon after I arrived I met Don Kraus, the cross-country coach, and his assistant, Ed Allen. They welcomed me with open arms, although I would not be eligible to compete that first year. Judson didn’t have a track, but cross-country fit well there, and we would run through campus laughing and sporting our Eagles’ warm-ups. At Judson I came to value the importance of relationships of my teammates. I can still remember each one of them…Stan Brown (who was one of my groomsmen), Jim Fay, Duane “the lumberjack” Young, Larry Crane, Kevin Kelly, Tom Randall, Mark Diehl, our manager, Tim “Ratman” Etternick, our coaches, and our trainer, Dr. Stuart Ryder…professor of English by day and “ice and bandage guy” by night.
We were a decent team, finishing sixth at the NCCAA nationals my senior year. Notice I put an extra “C” in there. The NCCAA stands for National Christian College Athletic Association, a bit less prime-time than the other organization with one less letter, but not nearly as plagued by scandal and populated by cheaters either!
And now…forty-two years after that I’ll be returning to the sport I always enjoyed and the challenges of training young runners, many whom are totally clueless about how long the race is that they will be expected to complete. I prepared for this return by coaching the distance runners at the same middle school, Timberview, this spring. The whining of seventh and eighth grade runners is like sweet music to my ears. It will be awesome to encourage the runners this coming August that they CAN do it, they CAN succeed, they CAN be something more than they thought they could ever be.
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Cross-Country, Cross-Country team, distance runners, distance running training, Fairland High School, Ironton Ohio, Judson College, long distance running, Miami of Ohio, middle school, middle school boys, middle school sports, middle school track, middle schoolers, track and field
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May 9, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May, 9, 2018
It’s the card that you hold in your teaching hands that has the power to raise a student’s eyebrows, the corrector of the uncorrectable…the threat of lunch detention!
For most students it holds the same level of dread as being grounded for a day, or having to write “I will not act like a fool ever again!” fifty times on a sheet of notebook paper. Only the threat of execution or taking the student’s cell phone away holds more power.
Last week I used the trump card three times. For one student I could see the fear of God in his eyes when I hinted that the consequence was close at hand. He would have run through fire to avoid it. For the other two students, however, their intelligent responses had taken siestas and left them unprotected from momentary stupidity.
After pronouncing sentence the first convicted thirteen year old tried to convince me of my unreasonableness. Too late, my man! Since you gave me a bunch of baloney, you’ll be eating your baloney sandwich at that desk!
The second charged, tried, and convicted was like a repeat offender. When the threat of detention revealed its ugly head he acted like it was a good thing…kind of like wearing a pair of “tighty whitie” underwear that’s a size too small! That’s never a good thing! His insolence caused me to propose two days of lunch detention. He still mistook cockiness for courage.
“Would you like a whole week of lunch detention?” He gave me a thumbs up.
“Okay! You’ll have it all next week.”
He is the exception. 99% of middle school students, if given a choice, would choose taking a shower after P.E. class- a place in the locker room that collects cobwebs because of how often it gets used- rather than lunch detention.
When the consequences were rendered there were gasps throughout the classroom. It was seventh grade newsworthy! Word would spread through the other seventh grade classrooms as quickly as a spring thunderstorm cloud burst.
The young man who is serving “the five” saw me in the library yesterday. He looked at me and said, “I’m still mad at you!”
“Understandable! When you stop being mad at me and start being mad at yourself you will have taken a step towards maturity.”
One of his eyebrows raised as if he was thinking about it. If nothing else I got him to that point…thinking!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: baloney, consequences, discipline, intelligent response, lunch detention, middle school, middle school boys, middle school shower room, middle schoolers, penalty, punsihment, Seventh Grade, seventh grade boys, unreasonable
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May 6, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. May 6, 2018
I’ve usually associated the number “64” with the interstate between Charleston and Huntington, West Virginia, a road that often has the feel of the Monaco Grand Prix, populated by tensed-up drivers and speeding coal trucks.
Yesterday, however, I hit 64 in birth years. My former high school classmate, Tanya Citti, hit it a day earlier. I should have called her up to get a scouting report on its impact.
I’m not sure that I’ve ever had as a wild a birthday as number 64! I’d better clarify what “wild” means in case anyone thinks I took a roll of quarters to a casino slot machine, or went to a local bar and downed a series of Woodford Reserve Kentucky bourbon shots.
“Wild” began with about eighty middle school track team members meeting to travel to the league meet at 7:30 in the morning, our final meet of the year. Being the 7th Grade Girls coach I was responsible for about twenty-five of those students, all giddy and giggly for the day ahead. I layered on the sun block because it was…wait for it!…hot! Snow had canceled our last home meet two days before!
At noon the first hint of weird and wild appeared on my cell phone screen. It was a text from my youngest daughter, Lizi. The text said, “Not a good day over here! What time are you done with the meet?”
“Huh?”
I called. “What’s up?”
“Well, Mom fell in the front yard at Kecia’s house (our oldest daughter), hurt her shoulder, and is at the doctor.”
“Ohh, how did she do that?”
“She stepped in a divot or something…and then-“
“And then?”
“Yes, and then while she was there Reagan (our seven year old granddaughter) fell off the monkey bars at the park a couple blocks away from the doctor’s office and got a gash beside her eye so I had to take her to the Emergency Room at Penrose-St. Francis Hospital.”
“What!!??”
“So she’s probably going to get some stitches and then Mom’s doctor is sending her here to have her shoulder x-rayed.”
“Her doctor is sending her to the same ER as Reagan?”
“Yes! Oh, and happy birthday, Dad!”
Middle school track meets can sometimes seem like they go on forever. Saturday’s seemed to go on forever…and ever…and ever, as the three ladies close and dear to my heart spent their afternoons populating the emergency room! Lizi and Reagan were able to leave about 3:00, but Carol was still there…waiting! When I got home at 4:30 I dropped my stuff, changed clothes, and headed to Penrose to be with her. A new Time magazine came in the mail so I threw it in the car. Murphy’s law says that if you take nothing to read with you you’ll end up being there forever, but if you take a book, the newspaper, or a magazine you’ll never get a chance to open it. Sure enough, when I checked in at the ER Security desk Carol texted me, “Ready to leave!”
The security person took me back to Room 8 and there was my wounded warrior, struggling to get her pants on. I helped her get her right foot through the correct hole, the foot that she informed me had also been sprained in her fall that morning.
A few minutes later, with a boot on her foot, I helped her hobble out to the car, got her buckled in, and headed home.
Lizi and Kecia arrived a little while later, Kecia driving Carol’s car that had still been parked at her house. She, and her husband, Kevin, had been at the Spartan Race that morning and afternoon, an eight mile run with a 100% possibility of getting muddy and dirty as the participants encountered various obstacles and challenges.
They all wished me a happy birthday, and then apologized.
“It’s all right! I’ll have another one next year!”
Next year…65! And my mind went to another highway, I-65, the interstate I traveled numerous times from Chicago to Indianapolis. A road that does not seem nearly as treacherous and intense as 64, and I thought to myself, hopefully number 65 will more resemble that road than the wild ride 64 was!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: accidents, birthday, birthday celebration, celebrating birthdays, emergency room, I-64, Kentucky bourbon, middle school, middle school sports, middle school track meet, middle schoolers, Monaco Grand Prix, the unexpected, turning 64, Woodford Reserve
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April 29, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. APRIL 29, 2018
In seventeen days I’ll be pulling out of our driveway and heading to Estes Park, Colorado for the Christian Writers Conference. For me it has the feel of a rookie arriving at spring training camp…the anxiety of being the new kid, the uncertainty of what I’ll find out, and the fear of being told my writing sucks the wind!
I received the good news this past week that I was accepted into the Fiction Intensive Clinic, a group limited to six that will spend a number of hours together during the three day conference affirming, questioning, and dissecting the synopsis and first chapter of each other’s book.
In preparation for the conference, a friend of mine arranged a luncheon meeting with him and a man, who works for the same Christian publishing company, to discuss my book and offer me some guidance. At Estes Park I will have the opportunity to meet with several literary agents, but each of those appointments are only 15 minutes long.
We sat munching on our lunch and chit-chatting and then my lunch partner asked me a question: “Tell me what your book is about in one sentence.”
I pondered for a moment between bites and then offered something that didn’t make much sense, and was more than one sentence.
Followup: “Would you say the book is character-based or a plot-based?”
“Well, I think it would be character-based, although there is the building to a climax and…”
A couple of other followup questions and then the bad news.
“If I was a publisher I don’t think I would be interested in pursuing the book.”
Gulp! My sweet beverage suddenly had a sour taste to it.
It was hard to hear, but probably what I needed to hear. Not that the book isn’t good enough to be published, but rather that I need to be clearer on my understanding and presentation about it. A fifteen minute appointment is not a long time and in those brief moments the presenter needs to communicate what the story is about, its audience, and why I wrote it. My critic did me a favor. He showed me that after you write a double-spaced 400 page book you have to do the hard work of being able to present it.
Part of who we are, our DNA personality if you will, is the desire to “be all that”, to think that we have it…the next Hemingway, or Missy Franklin, or Taylor Swift. We want whatever our performance is to be awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping.
Words of reality are needed to bring us back to who we really are and what we need to do. I officiated high school and small college basketball for sixteen years, and I saw my share of officials who never raised their level of performance because they wouldn’t listen to the words of their evaluators. I was only able to raise my level because I listened to people who were willing to tell me where I needed to improve, questioned me about certain whistles I had during games, and quizzed me on “what if’s”.
There is value in being told that you aren’t all that! In Estes Park I’m sure I’ll hear variations of those words a number of times, but there will also be words said in a way that will spur me on towards a desired outcome.
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized
Tags: author, Christian Writer's Conference, critic, critical, critiques, Estes Park Christian Writer's Conference, evaluate, evaluating, evaluations, fiction, listening to direction, Novels, plot-based novels, synopsis, writing, writing fiction
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April 28, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. April 28, 2018
One week from today our middle school track season culminates with our big league meet that draws 12 schools together.
Let me say this: I love coaching middle school track! Every day is a story that’s about to be created and lived. Each of our coaches is in charge of a certain group. This year I have 7th Grade girls…38 bundles of confusion and giggles! I also am in charge of training all of the distance runners, a Dairy Queen Blizzard of personalities and varying levels of talent…and non-talent! One boy still wears his sweat pants underneath his uniform shorts…in the meets, even when it’s seventy degrees!
Last week one of the 7th Grade girls came up to me in the midst of our home meet and said, “Coach Wolfe, where do I get a ‘bonette’?” I asked her to say the word again. “The bonette.”
“Do you mean the baton?”
“Oh, yes, the baton!”
It is an example of the unpredictable. As the coach, I am never quite sure what is going to be asked and what direction the question is seeking to lead me in.
“Coach Wolfe, we aren’t going outside for practice today, are we?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t we?”
“It’s cold!”
“That’s why we gave you a pair of sweats.”
“But I forgot mine.”
“Wow! That’s too bad! Okay, let’s go!”
Coaching tip: In middle school track it’s important to know when to look void of any hint of empathy and when to be extremely sympathetic. If someone is having a hard time breathing it’s essential to make sure the runner is okay, but when someone is just being “middle school-ish irresponsible” keep a facial expression that communicates disbelief in their decision-making.
Second coaching tip: Raise the bar of expectations!
“Hey! I’ve charted out your 1600 race and if you stay on this pace you’ll run this time.”
Dismay running across her face! “I can’t do that!”
“Oh, yes you can! And I’ll help you.”
“But-“
“Would you like to run this time?”
“Yes!”
“Then you’re going to!”
And she did! There are some middle schoolers who got in line twice when confidence was being handed out, and there are others who forgot to get in that line! They have to be spoon-fed the confidence to do what they don’t think they will ever be able do. At our next meet I’ll lower her time once again, get the same look of dismay, and help her achieve her “impossible” once again!
Coaching tip #3: Treat each athlete equally and coach every athlete to succeed no matter their talent level.
Seventh Grade girls want to relate to the coach. They want to know you care and are willing to hear their goofiness and forgive their goofs. From the girl who will win you four events to the girl who may throw a negative distance in the discus they are all important, and when my #38th most talented athlete runs up to me and says that although she still finished last she beat her personal best the coach gives her a high five and a “whoot whoot!”
Middle school track is more about conquering mountains and easing fears than it is about times and distances. It’s more about the laughter of thirteen year olds than the yelling of their parents.
It’s more about teaching them about track than winning medals and ribbons. Case in point, at the beginning of each track practice I ask my seventh grade girls a track trivia question. The winning answer gets a roll of “Smarties!” Last week I asked them what event in the Olympic track and field competition includes water. The answer is the steeplechase, but that event was like a foreign concept for the girls. The first girl who thought she knew the answer raised her hand and I called on her.
“Is it water polo?”
“No, they play water polo at…water polo!”
Bonettes, water polo, personal bests…it’s all good!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, 7th Grade girls, batons, middle school, middle school girls, middle school sports, middle school students, middle school track, middle schoolers, sweat pants, tack and field, track coach, unpredictable
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April 14, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. April 14, 2018
Whenever I think I’m smart and need to have my intelligence altitude lowered to C-level I just go to the supermarket and try to figure out how to use the “digital coupons!”
Last week Tide detergent pods were on sale, plus there was a digital coupon that you could use (If you were more intelligent)! I brought the container to the checkout lane, and confessed to the cashier, like the wayward penitent sinner that I am, that I was not “app-savvy!”market
She looked at me and started asking me questions that were a technological foreign language. To my mind they sounded something like this:
“Did you download the app and wash behind your ears with body wash, and then put some butter on your toast as it lay on the sidewalk while offering to sacrifice your first-born and waiting for the postal carrier to bring your new magazine by?”
“Huh?”
She gave me a momentary annoyed expression, because there was now two other people behind me in line- the line I had chosen because there was no one behind me and I thought I could receive a hint of grace from her!
Remember when you were raising your kids who had just learned how to tie their shoes? Remember the time when you were in a rush and they were taking a month to tie the knots so you just finally reached down in a huff and tied them so you could get out of the house before the rapture?
Well, that’s kind of what the cashier did! She just finally gave up and punched in some kind of secret code that she learned in the cashier’s secret society and gave me the extra two dollars off. I was melting away as I stood there, feeling the stares of the two people behind me and the scorn of “Ms. IBM” behind the counter!
I bet she would also be clueless…back in the day…if she had to bring a goat to the market to trade for flour, beans, and potatoes!
A friend of mine told me about a similar experience using the digital coupons at a different store where he was made to feel like one of the indentured servants of the business. There was some kind of glitch with the app that he had and after going through an employee who looked at him like he was a wandering vagabond he encountered a manager who said something like, “You know…this is a privilege to have this. Not everyone gets it. You understand that, don’t you?”
Memories of standing before the elementary school principal occurred!
Not all of us have been able to figure out digital coupons or, for that matter, anything that begins with the letters “a-p-p”, except “appricot”, “appalled”, and “apple”…scratch Apple!
We are from the slower generation that were amazed when adding machines came along. We watched episodes of “Lassie” where they had to ring up Jenny, the Calverton telephone operator, to call the neighbor down the road.
So now we of the slower generation are weighing whether it’s worth the embarrassment to save that fifty cents on Hamburger Helper by presenting our cell phone to the store cashier. It’s the equivalent of walking into church with your pants unzipped…which I’ve also done!
Categories: children, Community, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adding machines, app, apps, business, digital coupons, feeling stupid, groceries, grocery stores, Hamburger Helper, ignorance, Lassie, Lassie TV show, savvy, supermarket, tech savvy, technology, Tide
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April 12, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. April 12, 2018
The question has repeated itself countless times since March 4.
“Did you shave your head for St. Baldrick’s Day?” St. Baldrick’s is a day in March when money is raised to help find a cure for childhood cancer. People get their heads shaved at this worthy event.
“No!” I reply. “I lost a bet to one of my freshman basketball players.”
“Oh!”
I won’t go into the details of the unfortunate bet, just a summary. I had made a wager with one of the boys on my basketball team who was atrocious at shooting free throws. I promised that I would shave my head if he shot 90% from the free throw line for the season. I lost! He was 2 for 2 for the whole season! (You can go to the archives of “WordsfromWW.com” and read the story entitled “My Last Day With Hair…For A While”, which I posted on March 4)
So now the hair on my head is growing back…slowly! I’ve gone through stages. The first stage was called “Sluggo”, after the character in the old Nancy comic strip. Little specks of hair dotted the top of my head, like pepper spilled on the kitchen table. Okay, spilled SALT and pepper!
The next stage had me taking on the look of a human pin cushion. I didn’t have to worry about bedhead, but I did have to watch out for short sharp objects accidentally being pushed into my scalp.
And now this week I’ve entered into the realm of the porcupine. My hair is at that growing back point where people look at you and wonder if you’re possibly an escaped felon on the lam. No one on the front of GQ magazine has hair like this. Come to think of it, no one on the front of AARP magazine has hair like this either. I am in the hair equivalent of the wilderness desert where Jesus spent forty days roaming around.
The next stage I’m afraid may be called “crabgrass” and my wife will try to run the spreader quietly past me dispersing it’s “Weed-B-Gon”. This may be the stage where I break open the tube of Brylcream that my sister shipped to me. It had been my dad’s. Maybe the slicked back look would make it look better! Ahhh…no!
I’m just hoping that I’m sporting enough of a head of hair a month from now when I go to a writer’s conference in Estes Park, Colorado. I’ve got appointments with a few literary agents, and I’m hoping to get interest in the book I just recently completed. I need to have grown past the crabgrass stage into looking presentable and publishable!
One thing I’ve learned from all this is to qualify the wagers I make with my basketball players better, and to choose a player who will get fouled a lot during the season. Three of my players who shot 64% of all of our team’s free throws had a combined free throw shooting percentage of 46%. Next year I’ll pick one of those kind of players who won’t avoid contact like it’s the bubonic plague.
And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually get my head shaved next March for St. Baldrick’s!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Death, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: AARP, childhood cancer, curing cancer, finding a cure for cancer, free throw shooting, free throws, getting my hair shaved, GQ, growing hair back, losing a bet, losing a wager, making a bet, shaved head, short hair, St. Baldrick's, St. Baldrick's Day
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