Wedding Day Shocker: We Almost Missed Our Own Reception!

I guess I have weddings on the brain, as my daughter is getting married next May, (hooray!), and just today, I had to drive back to the town I was married in, to get a copy of my marriage license

that was needed for dependent health insurance coverage purposes by my employer. It reminded me of my own wedding some thirty two year s ago and how my new bride and I almost missed our own wedding reception!
We were married in a church in one town, while the reception was a good 30-45 minutes away in another town.

A lot of pictures were taken by the photographer at the church, after the ceremony, so mostly everyone had left and started to drive over to the reception. Eventually, there were only three of us left at the church, me, my new wife, and one of her brothers.   My wonderful sister and her husband had let us borrow their beautiful, luxurious  Lincoln Continental for our special day, and my wife's brother was acting as our chauffeur.
So my wife and I lock up the church (I had a key, but that's another story), and go to the car where her brother has parked it, smack dab in the middle of the street, waiting our exit. Everyone else has left by this point and we are the only ones at the church. Her brother steps out of the car, and somehow, ends up power locking all the doors......with the only set of keys in the ignition!

In 1979, there were very few cars with power locks and being unfamiliar with the Lincoln, my wife's brother had just locked out the newly married couple. Let me remind you: .there are no cell phones at this point. Anyone I could call that might be able to help is on their way to my wedding reception, which is going to be lame if the situation can't be rectified.
I let myself back into the church and called the police. The phone call was right out of a stand-up comedian's routine: " Uh, police..yeah, I just got married and am on my way to my own reception, but we've locked the keys in the car, which is in the middle of the street......I wish I could have seen the  person's face at police headquarters that took my call. Anyway, they said they would get there when they could. The town I got married in was more of a city than a town, and I'll bet they had higher priorities.
So I ran back outside in my wedding tux and relayed the update to my wife and my new brother-in-law. In what seemed an instant, a passerby asked us what the problem was...let's face it, it had to be an odd scene for him to stumble on:  a very worried bride and groom, all dressed up, standing in front of a church, with a big car in the middle of the street.
We told him of our dilemma and he said he might be able to help us. With that, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small piece of hanger wire. Within seconds, he had opened the car.
.

We thanked him profusely! I ran back into the church, called the police and told them our issue had resolved itself. I ran back outside and into the Lincoln Town Car. We then proceeded hastily to our reception. No one was the wiser.


P.S. Yes, that's the actual piece of wire in the picture to the left. Maybe I'll bring it to my daughter's wedding....just in case......

Bullies!

There have been a lot of stories about bullies the past several months and new anti-bullying legislation has been passed in several states. Has anyone of us not been bullied at some point in our lives? Let me recall one of the best bullies I ever had the misfortune to be a repeated victim of.
 Let's call him for blog purposes , Mike. Yes, even though it's almost 50 years ago that Mike bullied me, I am not ashamed to admit that I am afraid that if I use his real name, he may somehow find out, and seek revenge. I'm serious. Let me give you a few details about Mike. He had  shocking red hair which was long for it's day and was always uncombed. He moved around in a very fluid, lanky  fashion and had the most "I don't care about anything at all" attitude that I ever saw. He seemed to always wear low cut sneakers with floppy laces. I remember him burning his awful eighth grade report card in the back of our school, something akin to draft card or  flag burning back then. Kids who were 13 or 14 simply did not display such anti social behavior during that era..but Mike did.

He also could sing many very obscene verses of Barnacle Bill, The Sailor, which I had only heard previously  in a Popeye cartoon. Sheepishly, I must admit that I can still remember some of them. They were incredibly funny at the time.

You might be asking, how, if he was a bully I was terrified of, would I find myself to be in his presence to see him burn his report card and display his obscene vocal skills ? I think it's akin to putting your hand in a fire...you want to see how close you can get, without being burned. It was also the fact that his behaviors were so contrary to mine, that one could not help oneself to watch in a vicarious way. 
But, I digress. So how did Mike bully me? Well. it was pretty straightforward bullying 101. I'd be riding my bike down his street which I had to, as it was on the way to my grammar school, where I'd hang out occasionally. Of course, I rode my bike as fast as I could, on the opposite side of the street where he lived, praying that Mike was not hanging out on his porch stoop, where unfortunately, he did a lot of the time. His friends that were with him on the stoop were of similar disreputable character.  Mike had the instincts of a cheetah on an open plain in Africa, and I of course, was the gazelle.
He would run across the street, stop you on your bike, and then threaten to bust up your face and/or your bike, in no particular order. I  must emphasize that I did nothing to provoke him, other than have the audacity to ride my bike down his street, or worse yet, walk down his street.

Usually, he would take out whatever anger he had on your bike, throwing it down, riding it with threats that you would never see it again, etc. I can't recall him ever striking me, but just the thought that he might, was sufficient enough for it to be a horrific experience. It was usually over in a few minutes, although it felt like hours. And then, he would let you go, after he had satisfied whatever twisted needs that had led him to act the way he did.
I was one of his victims on many occasions, but never really told anyone about it, other than my friends, who if they were with me, would get the same treatment. My parents would have shrugged it off, telling me to avoid him and the street he lived on. I didn't even consider telling school authorities or the police, as it seemed petty to do so. Forget knocking on his door by the way as well, to tell his parents, who I had seen only occasional glimpses of.  They did not appear to have a sympathetic nature.. No ,being bullied my Mike was just part of the the neighborhood experience, no different than the other pleasant parts of my childhood.
In a short few years, I was in high school, and never saw Mike again.  I can't help but wonder how he ended up.

I Was A Child Garbageman!

Around the age of nine or so, I ramped up my love of construction trucks, road department vehicles, and garbage trucks, by not just following them around on my trusty Columbia bicycle, but by becoming one of the crew.

Garbage was picked up twice a week in my hometown, by a contracted service whose name was Fereday and Meyer. So, early Monday and Thursday mornings, I would get up, get dressed quickly, and run to where I knew one particular crew started their route. By this point, I had followed around all of the five or so crews that worked my town, and had developed a special bond with Phil and George. Phil was the driver and George was his partner. When you wanted the truck to pull up to the next house, you would signal to the driver by two short whistles, but George apparently couldn't whistle and would instead yell out "Ha!"

When I met up with my garbage men pals, I just didn't watch them load the trash into the truck, I helped. And by helped, I mean I was like the third man of the crew! I dragged the cans, boxes and assorted trash to the vehicle, threw it in and dragged back the empty cans back to the curb. I eventually learned how to operate the controls, so I knew had to "zip it up", garbageman slang for compressing the load into the truck. When the next stop ahead was too far to walk, I jumped on the little running board on either side of the truck, and hung on for dear life as we raced to the next stop. I loved every minute of it and literally spent the whole day with these guys on their route. D45 and then F21 were the numbers that designated Phil and George's trucks, and my summer was spent with them.
When all the routes for that day were finished, all the trucks converged on one street, helping each other finish the days work. Before heading back to their garage, which was in the next town over, they would all get out of their trucks , eat, drink soda, and discuss the days events. I felt privileged to be part of the inner circle and hang out with the boys. I was as tired and sweaty as they were, as I had put in a hard day as well.
I remember asking one day, how they got the garbage out of the truck at the dump. Al, from another crew, laughed and was surprised that I didn't know that all garbage trucks were like dump trucks, and that once they were full, all they had to do was open up the back part of the truck and then just engage the hydraulic dump mechanism. My co-worker Phil looked at it as an opportunity to learn, and asked me if I wanted to go with them to the dump one day to see how it was done! I was giddy, to say the least.
I secured my parent's approval like Phil had asked and the glorious day arrived. It was like Christmas in July, seeing all the trucks lining up and dumping their loads at the landfill. It was the pinnacle of my garbageman days.
Speaking of my parents, some time later, as I was once again working the route,one of my friends told me my parents were looking for me and I needed to go home right away, which I did. My parents solemnly sat me down in the living room and told me the bad news. Someone had seen me helping out the garbage men and were concerned enough about my safety, that they had contacted the Board of Health, who then notified my parents that I had to cease my activities immediately, or the consequences would be severe for me, my parents, and my garbageman buddies.
I was devastated! I liked working with these guys more than anything else in the world! I sobbed uncontrollably.  But, I knew I couldn't work with them ever again. I'm pretty sure I explained things to Phil and George who I could only watch from afar from then on.
A few years later, my parents confessed that they made up the whole Board of Health story, which I had believed wholeheartedly. They were very concerned that I would get hurt or injured one day, and knew that they had to come up with something compelling to break me from my addiction. I wasn't really mad at them, as I knew they were right. Nothing short of the Board of Health story would have worked.
I'm sure of it, as to this day, I can't resist watching my garbage men do their thing!

A Letter To Myself

I had to do this as a work requirement and thought that others might find it helpful!

Dear Daniel,

I’m writing this note to you to share with you a little of the insight I’ve gained after spending almost a quarter of a century managing sales teams of one type or another. I hope you will find some of these observations and suggestions helpful.

• Make sure that any comments you make at meetings with your peers and superiors are not negative in tone. I know you are not a negative person, but sometimes your passionate views on things might lead others to think you are being negative.

• Pick your business friends carefully…top performers tend to gravitate towards each other, but so do complainers and naysayers. Make sure you are aligned with the former and not the latter.

• Don’t be afraid to share your successful methods with others…it’s not only the right thing to do, but you will learn from them too!

• Be considerate and nice to everyone along the way. Peers of yours may become the senior vice presidents of tomorrow and if you had their trust and friendship as peers, you’ll have it forever.

• Embrace the changes that will surely come along the way. Be supportive of the company’s initiatives even if you can’t fully understand the reasons behind them.

• Make sure you maintain a life and work balance as you’ll turn around one day and find your children are all grown up and the nest empty. It happens fast, and you can’t make up for lost time.

• Even if you work for a difficult boss (and you will), look at it as an opportunity to grow. Trust me; you will learn something from them, even if it’s to avoid treating others like they treated you!

• Share the glory of any successes you will have with as many co-workers as you can. They probably deserve it  AND, it will keep you humble.

• Don’t get discouraged if you don’t get the promotions you think you deserve. It will just lead to negativity, resentment, and a poor attitude. Do your very best with the position you have.

• Don’t worry if your subordinates don’t all like you. Do worry if they don’t respect you.

• When you ask other areas of the company for help, do it with a smile, thanking them in advance for their assistance. Bullying them to help you might gain short term results, but will get you a well-deserved bad reputation.

• Worrying about stuff will never ever make it go away, but it will lead to sleepless nights and a lot of stress. You can only control your reaction to events, not the events themselves.

• Last, but not least, maintain the sense of humor you have. It will help you get thru the stressful times and reduce the tension and stress of everyone around you. Laughter is the best medicine.

Good luck Daniel! I look forward to watching you grow as a person and as a  valued member of our team.

The Best Christmas Tree Ever

I'll never forget the year that my Dad got our best Christmas tree ever!
It was Christmas Eve and  we had not gotten a tree that year. I think it was mostly because none of us cared that much and with only one car in the family and one driver at this point, it wasn't the easiest thing to do.
My Dad came home from work after supper time which was unusual as he always worked the night shift and usually came home well after midnight. I guess he got off early because it was Christmas Eve.  He was usually in a good mood and this night was no exception.
My dad did have a twisted sense of humor. When asked one day if got a promotion from his normal janitorial duties, he replied yes, as that day he was asked to clean 8 toilets instead of the usual 4!
I think my brothers and I complained about the lack of a tree to the point where he finally caved in and said okay, let's take a ride to Two Guys, the discount department store, who had a tree lot in their parking area.
Back then, Christmas tree lots were not as numerous as they seem to be today, as we drove about 25 minutes to get to the Two Guys store.

It was late by this time, and although my memory is foggy on the exact time, it had to be like 8:30 or so. We were the only buyers in the lot.There were still a lot of trees left and we started to look around for what would be our tree that year. The most expensive tree back then went for about $12.
Shockingly, my very frugal dad picked out a 10 foot tree marked at $12.00. How frugal was he? Well not to gross you out, but he made soap from partially used bars of soap from the boys locker room at our high school, where he worked for a time.
So my dad brings the tree to the  guy who was running the lot and says basically that we expect a deal on the tree as it's late on Christmas Eve and your prospects of selling even one more tree are bleak. The guy's first offer, whatever it was, was unrealistically high given the circumstances. My father, in  textbook negotiation fashion, offered the guy his first and final offer...one dollar!
The lot owner made the "fritz" face, and said how that was not a bona fide offer and said he would not part with the magnificent tree for such a paltry sum.
Then my Dad uttered the words which I can still recall as plainly today as when they were first spoken over forty plus  years ago:
"Look, it's late..you are closing in 15 minutes or so, so you can go home and be with your family. My sons and I will come back in half an hour and take the tree then, for free."

Faced with my Dad's most logical argument, the lot owner took the dollar from my Dad's hand and gave us the tree. I cannot recall any bitterness from the lot owner.
But, I can recall the look on my Mom's face when we walked in with the best and biggest tree we ever had!

Thanksgiving- The Underrated Holiday

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I know I am in the minority on this one. But consider all the positives:
there's no commercialism associated with it
you get to eat a lot of great food
you get to see your relatives
gratitude, I'm told, is very good for you mentally
the whole idea behind it is 100% uncontroversial
everyone can celebrate it
you get to eat a lot of good food! ( I know I mentioned that already)

So why is it so underrated? 
After all, there are maybe 5 songs about Thanksgiving, and I'll bet you can't sing more than one of them . (if you're lucky!)
No one celebrates Thanksgiving Eve.
Decorations (outside of  primary school classrooms) are non existent.
Thanksgiving greeting cards probably sell at the level of Happy Birthday Martin Van Buren cards.
There are no television specials about it.
Was there ever a movie made with Thanksgiving as it's theme?

I think you get my point.
So, I ask you this year, to ponder what a great holiday Thanksgiving truly is, and show it some respect.
But most of all, be sure to give thanks...and a lot of it!

Halloween- or what is non chocolate crap?

We gave out Hershey bars this year..they call them "fun size". I call them microscopic in comparison to the full sized candy bars I lusted after during my days as a trick or treater.
You have got to know that my parents rarely, if ever, bought us candy during the year. Halloween was the one time of year where you could gorf yourself...and gorf I did.
Once I got past the "fun" of Halloween as little kid , I realized that the trick or treating had to be taken very seriously. Route planning and asset utilization were key. First rule: go with no more than one other person...alone was even better. Any group larger than two slowed you down. Secondly, you had to carefully choose  what streets you would hit. A neighborhood like the one I live in now was a terrible choice, as the houses are way too far apart.
Hollywood Avenue was about the most perfect place to go . On one side of the street there were duplexes.

The strategy was to ring both doorbells at once. Any delay in answering was met by me moving on to the next house. Time was your biggest enemy. The take on Hollywood Avenue was so prolific, that we would switch masks and go to each house again.
You needed the right bag too. The best one we had was a green canvas bag with handles, that stood up to the weight and the weather. Bullies could not rip it apart either. We would plan our route so that as the bag filled, we would go home to empty out the bag, swallow supper whole, and quench our thirst.
My mother was part of the business that night too.You would empty your bag onto the kitchen table where the night's loot would be segregated into bowls by distinct categories: chocolate, lolly pops, licorice, gum, coins, non chocolate crap like Mike and Ike's, candy corn,small wrapped candies, and "other". Candy corn was put back into those little bags you got and given out to whoever came to our house, as we all hated it. All candy collected by my younger brother was pooled.
You can't believe how much candy I would collect...the bowls had to be supplemented with backup bowls.

One year, I came home close to like 8:30, really tired, ready to call it a night, but my older brother severely coaxed me into going down one more street. I remember people's snarky comments about how late it was...I mean no one else was out there when we finished at 9 PM.
The days that followed could only be described as an orgy of candy eating. By Thanksgiving, it was all gone!