I was home alone. I was watching Cheers so it must have been about 10:30pm. BANG! I jumped in my chair. I looked up at the ceiling. It sounded like a big pot had dropped, or someone had tripped and fallen. I chuckled to myself as I imagined my upstairs neighbor Mark doing a pratfall with a geranium pot. We hard a lot of bumps and thumps up there from time to time and "Oops, Mark tripped again." was the running joke when we heard them. I had only really talked to him once in the laundry room of the building. All I remember of the conversation is that he had been in the army at some point in his life. He looked to be in his late 30's, skinny, about 6'2 and had a few days growth of beard on his face. I never saw him clean shaven. It was only a little 4-plex so I saw the people in the building pretty often.
Time passed. Cheers ended and Johnny Carson was doing his monologue. I heard the key in the lock being turned quickly. The door opened and my mother stuck her head through the doorway, eyes searching. She saw me and a wave of relief washed over her face. Red and blue light was bouncing against the door behind her as she opened it.
"I thought it was you." She said with an expulsion of relieved breath.
"What's going on?" I said.
"Something happened upstairs, the police and an ambulance are out there. I pulled onto the street and saw them and thought something had happened to you."
"I didn't even hear any sirens." I said.
We lived on the first floor of the building, which was actually partially underground so our living room windows looked out at ground level. I walked to the window and pushed aside one of the thick drapes. I saw the squad car and the ambulance, and policemen and paramedics walking in and out of my building. I saw a police officer walk out holding a pistol behind his back; he was looking from side to side like he didn't want anyone to see him. I got the sense that this was not his weapon. It looked like a Berretta, one of the few pistols I could actually recognize. After sitting for a few minutes, my mother got up and went to the door. She turned to me.
"I want you to stay in here, I'm going to go talk to the police and see what's going on."
"Okay." I replied.
I walked to the door as she was walking out and held it open after she walked up the steps and out the front door. I heard voices upstairs, feet walking, commotion. A minute passed and I heard the metallic clangs of a gurney being wheeled out of the apartment. They slowly brought it down the steps. I couldn't see much with the paramedics and the sheet and all the tubes and the mask but I knew that it was Mark. I closed the door, picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
It turns out that Mark's girlfriend had borrowed his truck, an old beat up Ford, and had gotten into a minor fender bender when someone had pulled out in front of her. Mark was furious. Not only was she late getting home, she had dented his truck. She tried to explain that she was late because of the accident but he wouldn't have any of it. He pulled out his pistol and started waving it around, threatening her with it. The gun went off. No pratfall, no geranium; he didn't trip.

Mark lived. I found out from a friend who was a nurse's assistant at the local hospital and had seen Mark after he had come in and was stabilized. He had survived but was "a vegetable". It turns out that Mark had shot the right lobe of his brain almost completely out of his skull.

That's the last I heard of Mark. A dent in a lousy truck full of dents.

CATS! And Reggie
Now Playing: Rodney Dangerfield
When I was a young boy I used to love tormenting cats. This wasn't a future serial killer type of tormenting, but it was tormenting nonetheless. Now before all you cat lovers pounce on me (pun intended) let it be known that I too am a cat lover. My wonderful cat was my first companion in the big lonely city when I got my first apartment and she is hands down the best cat I have ever known. I've always liked cats. I only tormented the ones that didn't like me. Boy it was fun!
First there was "Kitty". My aunt and uncle had an overweight orange cat named "Kitty" that did not enjoy being petted too much. I wanted to pet the cat. After a while the cat would start swatting at me to quit. I wanted to pet the cat. I kept petting the cat very nicely while still avoiding its pathetic declawed paws. Eventually the cat would get up and move to a different spot. I would follow. It would keep going like this until the cat would hide in some spot that I couldn't follow. I would then wait until dinner. The thing is, this cat was so obese it couldn't clean itself...there. So while I was petting it and it was heaving itself up to swat at me I was probably giving it the only exercise it got, I probably prolonged the life of that bastard cat!

Then there was "Buddha". Buddha was a hideous Himalayan that would run and hide whenever company came over to my cousins house. What made Buddha more hideous was the fact that he had gotten lice or something so they had to shave Buddha, so there's this big headed, flat faced cat, whose big head and flat face were now more accentuated by the fact that the rest of it was practically hairless! What would I do to torment Buddha? Why, chase him all over the house, of course.

I just thought of this today while petting my dear cat and thought I would throw it out there. I don't torment cats anymore. Therapy works.




Here's some of what beloved former Green Bay Packer Reggie White had to say to the Wisconsin State Legislature on March 25, 1998.

White said he has thought about why God created different races. Each race has certain gifts, he said.
Blacks are gifted at worship and celebration, White said.
"If you go to a black church, you see people jumping up and down because they really get into it," he said.
Whites are good at organization, White said.
"You guys do a good job of building businesses and things of that nature, and you know how to tap into money," he said.
"Hispanics were gifted in family structure, and you can see a Hispanic person, and they can put 20, 30 people in one home."
THE JAPANESE AND other Asians are inventive, and "can turn a television into a watch," White said. Indians are gifted in spirituality, he said.
"When you put all of that together, guess what it makes: It forms a complete image of God," White said.
White said later that his comments were about coming together as a society and were not meant to stereotype the races.

Reggie White 1961-2004


I had something else I was going to write about but I forgot. Have a great week.

The snarling tableau
Mood:  hungry
Topic: Rant
Do you ever have those moments where you look around, maybe at the grocery store, and everyone you see looks very disturbed and/or disturbing? I was in the checkout today and took a slow pan around the place and saw a guy with a couple of teeth grown in OVER his other teeth, he was in line behind his dad who was wearing a suit which looked like he also wears it to clean out the barn. There was a mullet guy with his 12 year old looking son, asking him if he had just spit in the aisle and after his answer in the affirmative I could hear the dad saying "That's not cool. Very not cool. Don`t do that." I think I saw a woman who disturbed me as well but I can't think of her to describe her. It was really the whole scene that started to weird me out. All those people together in one place. Don't forget about me, the disturbing guy with the Pinky and the Brain baseball cap and three days beard growth. I fully admit to my scruffiness.

I'm afraid that I don't have a lot to be enraged about in town at the moment. Probably because I'm a bit broke at the moment and that always steals the focus. Another thing I noticed, when you're at the grocery store (which I seem to be on a daily basis for some reason) and all you're getting is toilet paper, just watching the person in front of you checkout can make you bitter, no matter how few items they may have. "Damn Ritz chips, damn grapefruit juice, why not just buy a whole orchard miss moneybags! Stuff your gluttonistic face with those...those...radishes! Must be nice!"

Just let it
Topic: Life in the village
Sometime early this morning we got our first snow of the season. It may melt, in fact it probably will but that will not negate the fact that it has arrived. Just a dusting though, nothing serious. My wife isn't happy, she doesn't like snow. I don't really like snow anymore either. Not since I became the one who has to shovel it and since I have to drive on country roads a half hour to get to and from work every day.

We have rented every comedy that the gas station has in its video library. I'm going to have to start getting them from the town I work in. They have a video "store" there where all they do is rent movies to people! No gas, no lottery tickets, just movies. I don't know how they do it. This is not to say that they are a full service shop by any means. I called them once and asked them if they have any old movies:

WAKEFIELD: Do you have any old movies?

VIDEO BOY: Like, what do you mean?

WAKEFIELD: You know, old movies, classics!

VIDEO BOY: Yeah, we got old movies, like from the 70`s and 80's. We got lots of them.

End of call

I've got some company coming over tomorrow so I need to get some cleaning done. Take care.

-Wakefield

Works sucks. I know
Topic: Rant
We are down to only three people in my department at work who were here when it started almost a year ago. In fact it's gotten so bad that we even hired three new people and one of them transferred to a different department her SECOND WEEK! Eventually I'm going to run the place by default. We've already got one supervisor who got the job because nobody wanted to work evenings, even with a raise. It's ridiculous. If I had cared enough to show up on time I would have been a supervisor myself, but in this little corporate world timeliness is more important than talent, intelligence and experience all rolled into one. Thus, we continue to promote near illiterate nineteen year olds who happen to be good looking and female and to boot they show up on time. Forget the fact that they usually quit after a month on the job. I guess a short term on time employee is better than a dedicated erratic one. I'm done now.

I can't believe I didn't mention this when it happened but about three months ago there was a rash of dog assassinations. Dogs were being killed by snipers in the park just outside of town, with their owners right with them, walking them or whatever. Can you believe that? I think that's terrible.


It's barely midnight and I'm nearly falling asleep at the computer. That's pathetic. I'm getting too old. I should go and wait for my second wind. Goodnight.

-Wakefield

They call him Mr.Touchdown
Now Playing: Van Helsing-I know, shut up
Topic: Life in the village
I'm trying to puzzle this out and maybe you folks can help me or at least bear with me as I brainstorm a little on the following: Why are small town people so obsessed with high school sports?? I think in Wakefield it's because we're so far from any professional sports team that people latch onto the high schoolers and don't let go. They have games on the radio for crying out loud...in high school! Blah blah blah. Last week they actually dismissed the entire school early just so everyone could ride a "fan bus" or drive themselves 5 hours away to a playoff game. This happens anytime there's a big game.

Due to the dying of all rural small towns, local public schools can't all afford (and don't have enough students) to have their own athletic teams so they pool together with surrounding towns. This does not lend itself well to team names. The Wakefield Warriors of my youth are now the Wakefield-Inverness-Pikeville-Elmerton Warriors, or as the sweatshirts read, the "W-I-P-E Warriors". Strikes some serious fear, don`t it? The cheer goes "W-I-P-E! Let's wipe them to victory go Warriors!". The sports section in the weekly paper consists of about two thirds of the entire paper during the school year.


LOCAL: Yeah that Johnson kid's got quite an arm, I remember when his dad used to play, he was really something.

WAKEFIELD: What does his dad do now?

LOCAL: Oh he tends bar sometimes, does handyman type of work.

WAKEFIELD: Wow. That's great.

LOCAL: But that boy a his is even better than his dad was. He might get'em all the way to state this year. Maybe next year too.

WAKEFIELD: I thought he was a senior.

LOCAL: Well, he's not the brightest of the bunch, not nearly as smart as his dad.

WAKEFIELD: [raises eyebrows] Well have fun at the game.

LOCAL: Sure will.


I love to watch and play football myself, but I don't give two hoots about the WIPES this year or any year for that matter. It's pathetic; be a star athlete in the middle of nowhere and then find out that you're really not all that talented and end up going to the VoTech for diesel mechanics and spend the rest of your life talking about how you were such a great athlete. I'm sick of it.

Hey, did everybody know there was an election last week? I hate to gloat but I did call this one. I wouldn't of course be gloating over who gets to live in the White House, I'm simply gloating about the fact that I called it.

I haven't been writing much lately, I seem to be in another slump. I've been looking at those of you who have more than one blog and I've started a second one myself but I haven't written anything yet. I just don't know what to write about. I write about everything here. Also, I'll be honest, I get a little discouraged that no one ever comments. I'm not even sure more than three or four people are reading this blog so why should I start another one?

We watched the movie Van Helsing tonight because we've seen everything else at the gas station. This is not a good film. Even when we decided to think of it as a comedy it still wasn't very good. The first thing that really bothered my wife and I was this: Mr.Hyde of the book was not some giant muscle-bound monster! In fact he was a bit hunched and small and didn't move well. He certainly wasn't eight feet tall, and he didn't climb walls and hole up in abandoned cathedrals. He had his own apartment for crying out loud. The same gross exaggeration of Hyde was made in the film The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I figure since about 1% of the people who go see these movies have actually read any of the books the characters come from nobody cares.

Last week felt really long and I'm not looking forward to this one. I'll try to find more interesting things to write. I hope you all have a great week!

-Wakefield

Heat wave
Topic: Life in the village
The weather doesn't know what it's doing around here. Hot one day cold the next. It's the end of October, things should be consistently cold by now. I don't mind a heat wave for a day or two but since it's been coupled with thunderstorms it's hard to enjoy it. I'm not looking forward to winter. I haven't liked winter since I was single, years ago, and living in an apartment. Now that I have to mow grass, shovel snow, and pay for the heat, I'm not too keen on it anymore.

Kids, Drugs, and Kerry/Edwards
Topic: Life in the village
We have company today. Two little girls under the age of ten. Yesterday at dinner (they have been here since yesterday) one of the girls told my neice (who is staying with us and invited her friends) that she forgot to bring her pill and if she doesn`t take her pill she can get hyper. When this was relayed to me later by my wife I raised an eyebrow but she assured me that they can miss a day and still be fine so it ended there. It's been 24 hours and this girl is now wearing a tu tu, tearing around the house and giggling herself into hyperventilation. It's a little unnerving. Let me be clear though, I believe there's a serious problem of overmedicating children in this country and it's terrible. I think it's for lazy parents and teachers who don`t know how to discipline students. I think there are a great many children who are on meds who shouldn't be. That said, at the moment I'm wishing this girl had taken her pill.
I'm sure that part of my frustration stems from the fact that my children have always been so well behaved that other kids who are also just fine but a little more wild seem hyperactive by comparison. I'm spoiled.

Cold in Wakefield this week. There's a very thick layer of leaves on my lawn. My wife says I should mow them down. I might do that today. Bundle up. It's the time of year when everyone but me gets sick so meds abound in the house right now.

It seems that Kerry Edwards signs are being stolen from people's front yards all around the country and I can report that Wakefield is no different. Even the mayor's wife was a victim. She wrote a letter to the editor about it, saying that she purchased those signs and it's stealing from her, not Kerry and Edwards, and she's very upset and disappointed.

I should mention that the mayor's wife happens to be a kleptomaniac and convicted shoplifter. Does that go under irony or hypocrisy or both?

May I have a little more please sir?
Topic: Life in the village
Another letter for you from a Wakefield resident and parent. As usual the names have been changed, nothing else. Enjoy.

Politics of school lunch. School lunch cost anywhere from $.75 to $2.55. Some children qualify for reduced or free meals in accordance with their parents income. My friend Pita is a single mom and her son Tad brought home a slip of paper from school the other day that said her son's lunch balance was $34.35 for the last 16 days of school and that the school stipulates that any unpaid balance over $32.00 the child will only be served one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and one carton of milk until the balance is paid. Pita's son has always been on the free meal program, yet every year there is a hassle. Last year her son was told that free lunch doesn't mean free breakfast too, and that free lunch doesn't apply to 7th and 8th graders at all. Not true, because I once took a part-time job as a school lunch lady. So I know that the free meal program applies to all grades KG-12 and it includes free breakfast. I also know that after every lunch there is an abundant supply of leftovers that are headed straight for the trash. In the school where I worked no leftovers were saved because of health department issues. The lunchroom workers were allowed to eat as much of the leftovers as they wanted unless it was a main dish, then you were only allowed two serving before it went into the trash, say a hamburger for instance, you were allowed two burgers with the bun. Lasagna, two helpings and so on. And only as long as you sat right there in the lunch room after all the kids were gone and ate it. You were not allowed to take any food out of the building with you, except if you were the one headed to the dumpster with it. When I worked there many of the people hired were from Labor Ready Services, a work today get paid today place. There was no training, just on the spot watch and do what I do work. Some of the people working for the day looked like they could have been homeless and when it came time to eat up the leftover lunches you could easily tell it was their first meal of the day. The reason I didn't stay a lunch lady even part-time is because I would have had to join the union complete with monthly dues and when you only work 4 hours a day 3 days a week minus taxes, what I brought home was just enough to covered my nasty habit of eating daily.

So Pita's son gets one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and one carton of milk, even though he has been approved for free breakfast and lunch. What the school system fails to understand is that for some kids the school lunch is the last meal that they will eat till the next days school breakfast, because there isn't anything to eat once they get home. My daughter Sarah has told me about her class mates who are so very hungry at lunch time that they go back for seconds. That's not surprising since there average school lunch is about the size of a .99 Swanson's TV dinner. Going back for seconds are free for the free lunch kids but a third helping will cost you. Pita's son Tad is a teenager. Do you know how much teenaged boys eat??? Well over what most adult men can eat. And now with the mandatory gym class everyday of the week, they are burning up that food energy faster than ever and you just can't fill up with energy from one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of milk. Kid got failing grades? Ask them what they had for lunch and was it enough. I can't tell you how many times Sarah has had friends over and I have heard them tell Sarah that they are going to save whatever she gave them to eat for later. I always tell her to tell her friends, "Eat up my mom will make more" and after that is said they always eat everything given, no worries.

Last year I spent $324.00 on those school lunches for Sarah not counting the $135.00 in snacks for snack time between 8am and lunch. You see the teachers, in the lower grades at least, understand the value of food to brain and I am glad to see snack time in the classroom. But what about those kids who Sarah shared her snack with all year long? What about all the left over lunches being throw away because third helpings aren't free? And because the School Board says they have to serve a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in lou of payment. Why are thousands of pounds of food going into the garbage instead of our children's bellies? There are programs where restaurants donate there extra food to homeless shelters maybe I can get those restaurants to donate their food to the schools so that The School Board can continue with their rationings. And then maybe they can afford to let some of their overworked, underpaid starving employees take a hot dog home.

Yesterday I received a letter from school... "Dear Parents: You are invited to have lunch with your child during National School Lunch Week, October 11th-October 20th please fill out the slip at the bottom and return it to school with your child in advance so that we know how many extra lunches to prepare for. If possible please pay prior to the date so that we can speed up the lunchroom process. Thank you! If you are unable to come on this certain date please remember that you are always welcome to come and eat with your child."

I wonder if Pita is going? Hope she likes peanut butter.


Thanks for another fine letter Jane, we always appreciate it.

-Wakefield

Pure Gold.

Here's a letter I received in the email bag that I thought I would share with the group. I got this during the year last year and with a new school year starting I thought I would share a little taste of our top notch elementary school staff.
It's a real letter. Names have been changed though.

As an introduction, I've spoken to the author of this letter many times and commiserated on this terrible teacher at Wakefield Elementary, her name is Mrs. Fink. Here's the letter:

There is a little girl in my daughter's class named Amanda, she goes by Mandy. She's a good little girl and I have had the unfortunate chance of meeting her "parents". Her mother got pregnant with her when she was 15. Mandy has 2 other siblings from different daddys and the man this girls' mom is married to now is old enough to be Mandy's grandfather. He had a vasectomy a few years back so the child that Mandy's mother is carrying right now belongs to...whoever she met in the bar 7 months ago. But I hear it's no big deal on account of they have an "open marriage". So you get the picture. Not only that but they are dirt poor. Mandy's mom has never had a job that I have known of and the step-dad has been on unemployment for quite some time. They have no car, no phone and little food,(not a single luxury). Mandy comes to school in rags and is often in need of a shower. Sometimes I want to steal this little girl very badly. This year the gym teacher bought her a new pair of tennis shoes, cause the only shoes she had were a torn up pair of 80's cowboy boots.
Throughout the school year Sarah (my daughter) and I have made it our practice to take Mandy clothes that Sarah has out grown. I never give her junk, or things stained. I have even thrown in a few brand new things from time to time. I instructed Sarah that when she takes these things to school to give to Mandy that she do it in a discreet manner. That she wait until a time when other kids aren't around and that she do it in-between school hours say, first thing in the morning to avoid embarrassment to Mandy. Now how big of a deal it is to Mandy as far as embarrassment goes, I don't know. Sarah says that Mandy is always glad to have the clothes. Now mind you that before any of this started I wrote a letter to Mandy's mom and it went something like this... "Dear Mandy's Mom, Sarah likes to trade clothes with her buddy Kelly and there are a few things she would like to share with Mandy. Is this okay with you?' The reply was..."I think that Sarah and Mandy are about the same size but sure, if something doesn't fit I can always give it to Goodwill if that's okay with you." (Sarah is actually a size above Mandy, so it worked out great) But you see how things were worded between us. I not to offend, she not to be lowered. And so it should be. It's called TACT, something Mrs.Fink may never learn, or in this case didn't want to have.
Sarah came home to me last week and we did our usual sit down and tell me how your day went.
" Well" I say..."I cleaned the kitchen and took a nap, this came in the mail and I saw a bunny in the yard, How was your day?"
Sarah says,"Today I learned what a hand-me-down is."
"Oh?" I say... "You learned that word in school? That's strange. How?"
"Mrs.Fink read us a story about a family with brothers and sisters who pass down their clothes to one another. And then Mrs.Fink said that that is what I do when I give Mandy clothes. I am giving her hand-me-downs."
" Really? When Mrs.Fink told you this, where were you?
"In class." Sarah says.
"Let me understand this, After reading the story Mrs.Fink announced to the class that, 'hand-me-downs are what Sarah brings to Mandy', is that right?"
"Yes."
"And what did Mandy do?"
"Well, everybody was staring at her and her cheeks were getting red, but she just looked at me and smiled, so I smiled at her. We just looked at each other."
"And Mrs.Fink?"
"She was smiling too."
The following conversation was then about how we don't embarrass people and make them spectacles in front of others. We learned about feelings. How Mandy must have felt and why her cheeks turned red. How Sarah would feel if someone did that to her and how Mrs.Fink is from THE DEVIL!
That evening I told my husband the story. He was without words. I summed it up by saying that it was totally unnecessary for her to do that. The story was self explanatory, I doubt the point or essence of the story was to teach solely about hand-me-downs and even if it was, it was JUST PLAIN CRUEL to do that to a 9 year old.
I have a real problem with people who get their kicks from the pain and humiliation of others. I'm not sure what exactly I'm gonna do just yet. But something needs to be said.
Until next time.
Gathering the towns people, pitch forks and torches,
-Jane Smith

Thanks for the letter Jane. I hope everyone has a good long weekend. If any of you are in Florida, please be careful and we'll see you on the other side.

-Wakefield

The Return
Topic: Observe if you will....
If you've ever been in a hospital for an extended amount of time you'll understand this. You lose track of everything. You don't know what day it is, what time it is, what the weather is like, anything. You mark time by what meds you have to take, or what day was this or that done, etc. "I got my stitches out on Wednesday, so, what day is it today?"

The staff changes, some faces you see more than once, some never again. Every new doctor or nurse who sees you gets evaluated, "Do I like this nurse? What do I think about this doctor?" If you don't like them, odds are they will be gone forever in the next 12 hours so not such a big deal. How important it is that you like your care staff tends to hinge on what's being done on their shift. If this nurse is going to be in charge of starting your IV, changing all your meds, being with you as you writhe in pain for 8-10 hours, whether you like them and think they are competent makes a bigger difference than it does for the nurse that is going to be bringing in your dinner and changing your sheets.

Televisions are everywhere in the big city hospital. We don't get much for broadcast TV out here in Wakefield so you'd think that with constant TV news streaming into the room you'd feel more connected to things going on outside the hospital but you don't.

Sometimes you may start to feel territorial about the hospital if you stay long enough. You get mad when the security guard asks you what room you are in, or what room you are visiting, and tell you that you have to have a pass after 9pm to get in. "I live here you moron, I'm not a visitor! I've been here for two weeks and didn't need a pass! Let me see YOUR pass!"

It's like it's your home and you start referring to it as such if you get to leave at some time during your stay. "Yeah, call me later, I should be home-in my room I mean-after about 6."

You start walking out of your room with no shoes on and don't think twice about it. Stroll down the hall in your pajamas when you are perfectly able to dress in regular clothes because you just don`t care anymore. It's sucks to be in the hospital.

Sorry for the long absence, I hope that the few of you out there reading won't give up. I'm still here.


Tomorrow I may try to mow. My grass is about a foot high. I have a few thoughts about mowing I'll share later. Take care.

-Wakefield

The Saga of the Car
Two nights ago, after we got home from a doctor appt in the nearest real city, 2 hours away, I came in to the town I work in to work a couple of hours at my other job. I took a break, drove over to my full time job to get my paycheck and as I was heading back to job #2 I noticed that my interior car lights were getting dimmer and dimmer. I thought "I hope it's not my alternator, let it be the battery." I got to work. Shut off the car, tried to start it again...nothing. So I go in the building, do some more work, come out again and try it and it starts. Figure it must have built up a little charge. Good news for the "just the battery" theory. So I finish my work and ask one of the guys if I could call him for a jumpstart later if the car died, he said he'd be up until 3am(at the time it was only 11pm). I left for Walmart to do some shopping. As I went from work to the store the lights dimmed rapidly. Fortunately, Walmart is only about a mile from that job so I didn't have far to go. I made it into the parking lot and it died. I went in to the store, got the stuff I had been instructed to get, and realized that I didn't know what kind of battery to get, even though I couldn`t afford to get one at all. I was already in line with my stuff so I paid for it and went out to the car, figuring I`d just take out the old battery and bring it in and compare-TRIP #1.

I had a vise grip pliers and some other kind of very long handled pliers that I used on fixing a sink once, I don't know what it's called. I'm not much on tools and their names. Regardless, neither one of these fine tools was taking the bolts off the stupid restraining bar that goes over the top of the wiper fluid tank and the battery. Sooo, back in to the store-TRIP #2

I can't tell metric from whatever and I didn't want to buy a socket set and wrench that wouldn't work. I found this "gator" wrench that has stuff in the socket that will fit over all different kinds of nuts and bolts and it was the same price as the socket set so I got it. Back to the car. Got the bar off. Got the terminals off the battery. Now for some reason, even though the thing has a bar over it and it's wedged in there so that short of the car being picked up by a giant, turned over and shaken violently for several minutes, it's not coming out, but it still has the stupid little restraining clip down on the bottom (I did not put this battery in, it was there when I got the car). My newfangled wrench will not reach it and be free to turn more than a few inches, and I have to shove my hands into the little corners of the car just to be able to move the wrench a tiny bit between two fingers. That wasn't working. Back into the store-TRIP #3

Bought extensions for the wrench. Got the thing off. Battery still wasn't coming out. I had to disconnect the wiper fluid tank and get it out of the way so I could turn the battery and finally take it out sideways. Back into the store-TRIP #4

New battery. Put it in, hooked up the terminals...nothing. It's been a while so I figure I hooked it up wrong. I look through the manual and it's no help. I go to the battery, disconnect the terminals it took ten minutes to hook up, squeezing my fingers and a pliers because the wrench won't fit, hook up the positive terminal first, and then the negative and I see the dome light come on. Success! I finally get home...at 3:30am. I had spent about 2.5 hours going in and out of Walmart spending money I don't have and screwing up my back and hands with this battery. My wife had woke up at 2am, expecting me to be home about 1, and was worried sick, she had no way to reach me, no calling card to call Walmart and see if I was there, etc.


LAST NIGHT

It had been bothering me that the battery meter didn't seem to be getting as high as I thought it would after being replaced. I got around all day just fine though so I just decided to keep an eye on it. Sure enough, as I was heading home at about 10:30pm, things began to dim...and the thunderstorm started rolling in.

I made it about 8 miles out of town before I could barely see my headlights and had to pull over. Hmm, the alternator perhaps? So there I sat in the dark, the waxing gibbous moon providing some wonderful light on the thunderhead in the distance, flashing with beautiful lightning. It was really gorgeous. I waited 15 minutes to see if the car would charge enough. It only charged enough for the interior light to turn on and the emergency flashers, but only for a few minutes before starting to die.
Up went the hood, out came the flashlight, and it was waving time. I was surprised at how many cars passed me by. I'm not some big threatening psycho-looking guy, and I though the heartland of America was supposed to be filled with the only people left who would help a stranger in need! Standing in the rain by the roadside, waving his flashlight, obviously in distress!

It took a really long time, close to an hour I think, for someone to finally pull over to help. He had just gotten off work and was heading home. His name was Ralph and he was very nice and hooked up the cables and we chatted for about 6 minutes in the wind and light rain while the battery charged. When I looked at the volt meter it was about as high as it had been when I left work so I figured if I got that far on that much I should make it home. I thanked him kindly and he went his way and I went mine.

Joyously bounding down the road, I kept the air conditioner off and the interior lights as low as possible and never turned on my brights but still, things started to dim. Feeling defeated, I begged the car to just "make it five miles, that's all!" but I knew that she wouldn't make it. As the lights went dim, I slid over to the shoulder...again. The time was about 12:30am.

I had stopped in front of a farmhouse I knew. I didn't know the owner well but I knew his name and he knew mine. That's about as far as our familiarity went. Enough to nod and say hello but not stop and talk. The trouble was, this was a farmer, early to bed and all that. There were no lights on in the house when I walked around to take a look. There's a line of trees between him and the road so you have to walk down the driveway past those before you can see the house. I knew he was asleep, but it was getting late and there wasn't as much traffic on this part of the road so I had to think about knocking on his door. First though, I tried to flag down the two cars that went by, no response. After ten or twenty minutes and no traffic in either direction I decided to go to the farmer's door. As I walked up to his door and started reaching for the doorbell I heard a small dog start barking wildly "Crap", I said. I still went for it though; I reached for the doorbell and pressed. There was no sound. This thing was busted. At that moment I heard a loud low bark come from behind me, I jumped, my heart skipping a few beats, and turned to look. I didn't see anything. The dog barked again. It was in a machine shed about 100 yards behind me. I started to back away from the door, the big bark came again, and then it started a half bark, half howl as I quickened my pace. I still couldn't see the dog but I had the feeling it wasn't restrained, farm dogs never are. I kept trotting backwards so I could see if any lights were turning on in the house. The barks seemed to be moving now, but I still couldn't see the dog. I passed the tree line as I walked onto the highway so I could no longer see the house, but the dog was still barking and I had no idea where it was but the bark was getting louder. I was about ten yards from the car when a bark rang out that sounded like it could have been right behind me, that got my running in a sprint to the car. I got in and closed the door, breathing heavy, relieved and frustrated at the same time.

I rolled my window down and shone my flashlight out onto the trees between the house and me, sweeping the ground to see if the dog (still bark-howling) would appear, and then the tops of the trees hoping that the farmer would look out and see the beam and come out. The barks slowed and there was no sound of movement, doors opening, shouts of "Who's there", etc. The image of the farmer coming out with a shotgun flashed in my mind, but there was nothing. I waited for a car. One appeared and I waited until it was about a half mile away before turning on my hazard flashers, waving the flashlight around. The car stopped and immediately two young men came out from the back seats, moving quickly. For a second I thought they might jump me, wouldn't that be perfect, I thought. I started telling them that I needed a jump and could they help me. They went back to the car. There were two young women in the front, and after the boys told her what help I needed I heard her say that her battery light just turned on and they couldn't help with a jump. I sighed. For crying out loud. I asked if they had a phone I could use. They did of course, everyone around here under the age of 65 and not named Wakefield has a frickin cell phone. So I called my wife, who was upset of course, told her the car had died again and that the first jump didn't last and I was stuck again and where I was. I asked her to get a phone book and give me the number for the farmer whose house I was in front of. At this point it began to rain. The two young men were still standing outside the car and making noises that they needed to get out of the rain and get going. I tried to hurry my wife along but she had been outside with the phone, waiting for me to come home. Finally she got the number and I wrote it down, after I had told the boys that if they wanted to get back in their car I would run out and give them the phone, it would only be a minute. I got off the phone with my wife and called the farmer. He answered, I gave him my name and told him that I was outside his house and I needed a jump and could he help me, that I borrowed a phone from some kids that I had flagged down but who couldn't help me because their battery light had just turned on. "Oh my god" was his response, sounding like I was his teenage son calling to tell him I was in jail. "And where are the kids, are they out front too?" he asked. I said yes but they have to go and couldn't help me. He kind of said "Yaah" in a disbelieving tone and hung up on me. I got out and ran the phone to the kids. I didn't know if the farmer thought it was a prank and if he'd come out or not so I asked the kids if they could keep an eye out for me on their way back from town and if they would call the police for me. They said okay and took off. Here I was again, now having told my wife that I would get ahold of the farmer and be home soon but in reality had no idea if that was going to happen. I rested my head on the steering wheel and then the headlights came shining through the driveway from the farmer's house. He pulled up next to me and I told him I needed a jump so he pulled his truck up in front of my car. He got out and I told him the story of the first jump not lasting and I just needed to let the cables sit a while so I could get more of a charge. I think he thought I was drunk. I noticed that I was trying to not act like a drunk trying to act sober but this made my actually sober behavior seem forced, making me look more like a drunk trying to act sober. Anyway, he hooked the cables up and told me to see if it would start. I said sure it would start, it started the last time right away but the cables need to sit there longer. He didn't want to hear it. I started the car and he immediately took off the cables. I told him "I guess I'll see how far that will get me", trying to look pathetic but still not drunk, which was tough, I'm pretty sure that came off drunk too. He asked me if I wanted him to follow me. I said, "If you could". He said fine. He backed away from my car and I put the car in gear and it immediately died. Just then the car that had been coming down the road slowed and came to a stop. I saw the lights on top of the car. The authorities had arrived.

I told the cop the story and he said he couldn't give me a jump because of all the equipment in his car but he could call a tow for me or give me a ride into town. I opted for the ride. As I was getting my stuff out of the car the cop was chatting with the farmer like it was just another day, friendly, talking about the weather, regular friendly chatter. Nothing like what I got from the farmer. I thought that the farmer would tell the cop that he thought I was drunk. In fact I hoped he would so I could take all the tests and show him that I could do cartwheels on the white line I was so damn sober. The cop didn't ask though, so he must not have mentioned it.

I got to ride in the back of a police car for the first time (there was a bunch of stuff in the front) and we chatted amiably on the ride in. I finally made it home about 3am.

Now I'm using a borrowed car until I can get an alternator for my car ordered, since none of the parts stores around have one in stock for my car.

It's going to be a big week for the Wakefield household.

Take Care

-Wakefield

Whiner
Topic: Rant
I know that I whine and complain about the life of small town America that I find myself in the middle of but I'd like to take a few moments (before the moments pass) to share my thoughts on the good of living out here.

I don't worry that my children are going to be hit by a stray bullet in a gang shootout. Yes, there are some gangs out here, but I think they're the gangs that were kicked out of the big cities and got lost so they are not very competent and they are not in large numbers.

I know that if I run out of gas on the way to work I'll be able to walk to the nearest farmhouse and odds are they'll have a gas can and some gas to give.

I can use "I ran out of gas" as an excuse to be late for work, since there`s no gas station between me and work, 25 miles away.

Houses are cheap.

Well, that's it for now, moment over.


Nothing much going on in town, not that I'd really know if there was.
I was watching Extreme Home Makeover on ABC the other day and saw the season finale where they put a pool in these kids' backyard. They did this in SEVEN days. A couple years ago they tried to build a pool here in Wakefield. They did it, but it was about 3 months over on time so the swimming season was cut short. I understand, a city pool (and waterslide) is much larger than a backyard pool but still, if you figure it out, I don't think that backyard pool was any less than 5 times smaller than the city pool. 7x5=35 35 days to build it! It took at least three times that. Here's the kicker. The pool was open for that short first season, then the next year it was open for the full year but some people noticed that there were some cracks in the floor of this BRAND NEW pool. Turns out there were cracks, a lot of them, so now the stupid city is suing the contractors for shoddy work and there will be no pool season this summer. Not only did they take too long to build it, they didn't even build it right. Boo hoo. Word is that daycare providers in town are very happy with the pool being closed. Now parents won't be able to just drop off the kids at the pool for the day for a meager 2-3 dollars.
I hate the pool. This last year it was open they chained these floating animals to the floor of the pool that kids could climb and play on. It truly was a daycare center and it got to the point where we didn`t even want to take the kids there because we actually wanted to stay there WITH them and enjoy the pool, but it was such an annoying place to be we just quit going.


I'm hoping to get to sleep before 2am tonight so I'm going to go. I'll have a story later in the week.

Have a good night.

-Wakefield

Topic: Observe if you will....
Long and busy day today. No work as we were gone for a doctor appointment in the big city a couple of hours away. I'll work this weekend instead to make up the hours. This has nothing to do with my day but I just remembered a strange thing that people here do. When you live in the middle of nowhere, it becomes a regular event to drive long distances to shop. You city dwellers take for granted having a variety of stores to chose from. We have three big stores nearby (nearby being about 25 miles), Kmart, Walmart, and Shopko. Basically, the same store in three different styles and sizes with different brand names. Let me amend my thought, it's actually women who primarily make this journey. There are people here in Wakefield that will gladly drive an hour or more just to go to a town with a mall that has actual department stores. A food court is a treat. Women will spend hours shopping and window shopping, which is not strange. It's the fact that they will spend over two hours on the road just to do this. With gas in the $2.00 per gallon range now this seems a bit extreme to me. So be glad, city mice, that you have all this at your fingertips.

Speaking of gas, people complain so much about the price when only recently the price of 20 ounces of water from a convenience store cost about $1.80 at the register. I pay more for milk than I do for gas per gallon. I'm not saying I don't care about the price of gas, I do of course, I drive almost 50 miles a day to work and back, but I just have to put it in perspective.

I'm not happy about the price of milk either, by the way, but that hasn't made the news yet.

Have a good weekend.

-Wakefield