Batter Up

I am reminded today of why so many Beyonders are becoming foster parents.

You see, Charlie and I just finished working concessions at the state 13-15 year old Babe Ruth tournament in our small town. We are Lions. Charlie is in charge of getting crews to run the concession stand (which is our main club fundraiser) and I am in charge of keeping the stand stocked. WE are the default crew.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Other people worked the stand too. It’s just that we always worked with them, Pretty much. Mostly.

And some Lions said they couldn’t work because they were too busy. They had jobs. Their kids were playing in the tournament and they wanted to watch them. They couldn’t work because they had lives.

Young people today just don’t understand life. They don’t get it that you have to pay forward. Life is like social security. You pay in now to get back later. ----Okay, so life isn’t like social security. I mean, like I paid into social security for all these years and I won’t be able to retire until I’m 94, but some young punk is faking a back injury so he can get SSI and my money is paying his bills so he can buy a Mustang convertible with leather seats and a GPS. Uh—sorry about that. Life is like an investment. Yeah, that’s it. A long-term investment. And you gotta pay in to get out.

So we pay in, Charlie and I. And we argue.
Last night, I had a number in the “missed calls” message on my cell phone.
“Do you know what 854-2-5-0-0 is?” I yelled back to him from my place at the concessions stand counter,
“Yeah, it is slow, what inning is it?” Charlie answered flipping another burger on the grill.
“No. Not slow. What is that number?”
“Thunder? No, I didn’t hear any. There aren’t any watches out, that I know of.”
Someone in the stands asked us to be quiet. He couldn’t hear the announcer.
“They want us to be quiet,” I told Charlie.
“What about tonight?” he asked.
“Not tonight,” I said. “Quiet.”
“That’s okay, honey,” he said. “You’re real tempting, but I’m too tired for tonight too.”

Batter up.

I Feel Old---Real Old.

I don’t think of myself as old. Usually.
But last night, lying in bed, Charlie and I were pondering our aches and pains. I have a pinched nerve from wrestling with my 280 pound son-in-law. (Not bright, I know, but wisdom doesn’t ALWAYS come with age.) It hurts from my shoulder to my forearm some days.
Charlie played tennis on his lunch break yesterday. In 100 degree heat. Then he stood on a ladder to help me wash the outside of the kitchen windows. After work he pulled weeds, cleaned the leaves from our rain gutter and washed the siding. He was complaining about being stiff last night. ( Well duh…)
See, when I look in the mirror, I see what I believe I will see. Me. But it’s the me I was 15 years ago. I don’t notice the wrinkles and the added gray in my hair. I see the rolls under my chin, but what the heck…it’s just baby fat. And the bags under my eyes are because I stayed up past my 9:30 bed time. Aren’t they?
Coming face-to-face with my age is scary.
I am only 7 years away from traditional retirement at 65. At restaurants, people routinely ask if I want the senior discount or would like to order off the senior menu.
And I have a nine year old. What the heck was I thinking?
Anyway, I found this “real age” test on the Internet and thought other Beyonders might be interested. Turns out, I’m not as old as I thought!
I’m younger. A lot younger. Okay, only two years younger. But in two years, Liz Taylor could go through 5 husbands. (I’ll bet THEY feel old.)

http://www.oprah.com/health/lifestages/realage/health_real_main.jhtml



And science has proven that, on the whole, Beyonders are more satisfied with their lives. That keeps us younger, too. We have GREAT memories.

1)Remember Howdy Doody? Okay, so what was the name of the human partner of the famous dummy?
2)Who was The Lone Ranger’s Indian sidekick? What did the name mean?
3)Who was Rudy Gernreich?
4) What did Beaver’s dad do for a living?
5) How much did a gallon of milk cost in 1960?







1) Buffalo Bob 2) Tonto --One story is that it is Potowatomie for “Wild One.”
3) inventor of the topless swimming suit 4) he was an accountant 5) 49¢


Okay. Enough fun for today. I have to go remind the nine year old to be quieter in the house. The kid is a real loud breather.

Values: Love and Hat

Okay, so I'm old.
People age. Values don't.

The Fourth of July has always been a family day to us. Until about five years ago, it was a big day for our town, too. Then some idiots decided to use the money Holyoke always spent on kids races and a "town feed" on something they call "Dandelion Daze." the Chamber of Commerce thought it would bring some money into the community. Yeah. Money. That's what it comes down to. They have a semi-well attended car show ( mostly the same cars every year, but some of us are old enough we forget and it's like all new. ) There is a cruise-in, which only the car owners enjoy ( and most of those are from out of town) and sidewalk sales ( but most of us "townees"already have sidewalks)

The point is, the town does nothing to celebrate the Fourth of July except the fireworks in the evening. So our family has its own celebration. There are usually 18 or more of us and we have kids games, water balloons, volleyball, tennis and baseball. There is always plenty of good food and we enjoy the privelege of family.

And family is a privilege. That's what the kids we foster get...that not everyone has family.
the park is full of people who do not get that: punk kids, boys in gangsta attire--pants down below their butts ( I guess if they need to go, all they have to do is squat) and girls in skin-tight tops that bare bulging bellies with stretch marks and navel piercings and shorts that bare their butt cheeks on one end and their thong underwear on the other. ( there is a reason they call it UNDERWEAR)

I don't want to deal with that when I am celebrating family. I want to provide a healthy alternative to that kind of lifestyle--and that lifestyle is where many of our foster children come from.

Society is coming around to values again. Much is being made of the WWII generation ( which is before my time, thank God) and the contributions thay made to the world. So why don't people speak up and let these park punks know that THEY ARE NOT AMERICA? Why allow that
culture to slip into our kids lives through its music and fashion (???)

I held an interview in my head the other day, sitting in the park, admiring some hot 200 pound chick in her shorts and green thong underwear. I asked the kid why she wore clothes that showed her cleavage in front and in back. She said it was to attract the boys.

"All boys, or just plumbers?" I asked.

And our foster daughter has issues as well. She is sixteen and has a three month old son. The other day she dressed for church in a sweet skirt set. She pulled the waistband down so that her belly button was visible. I pulled it back up. She has a baby-flab belly and a navel piercing.

"I'm not wearing it like that," she said.
"Yes. You are."
She huffed but left the skirt at her natural waist.
"And another thing, What is that on your knuckles?"
"It's a tatoo," she said. "Well, not really a tatoo. I drew it on with ink. It says love and hate."
"It says love and hat," I corrected.
"I know. The pen stopped working."

So there you are. What kind of values can this generation have when they wear love and hat tatooed on their hands? The answer is " the values we give them."
That's where we Beyonder" parents come in. Values are our specialty.