What You Discover When Wearing a Mask to the Grocery Store
Wearing a face covering when I venture out has been educational. Thanks to habit and instinct, it's a learning curve often steeped in embarrassment.
The first time I sneezed wearing a mask occcured while picking out Roma tomatoes at Hy-Vee, and it was a great deal of fun. My knee-jerk reaction was to sneeze into the bend of my elbow, but I doubt a single visible droplet made it that far. There I stood, a tomato in each hand and a face mask full of sneeze blow. That was a pleasantly disgusting trip to the store.
Trying to open one of those thin, film-like plastic produce bags is one of the many daily miseries God has inflicted upon us for being a largely disobedient lot. (There's a pun in there if you know what to look for. Again, they come out of me like gas.) I've historically sidestepped this particular plague by discretely spitting a few drops of saliva on my fingertips to help with the friction. It's the same principle used when wetting one's finger to turn the page of a book. It also makes one feel like an idiot when it's attempted while wearing a face mask. I managed a little spittle that my mask conveniently prevented from spreading any pathogens. The next ten minutes were spent frantically rubbing the top of the bag between my dry, frictionless digits until my thumb cramped.
I loathe conspiracy theories, but there's something not right with the idea that we can send a remote-controlled buggy to Mars, but we can't make a plastic produce bag that can be easily opened without spitting or risking injury.
One thing a face mask does not prevent from escaping is the voice. For some reason I completely forgot about my face mask while sneezing and spitting, but as soon as I decided to curse the uncooperative produce bag I somehow became conscious of the mask. As well, I also somehow managed to assume it would sufficiently muffle profanity. It doesn't, and the startled Hutterite ladies standing nearby ignoring social distancing rules can attest to that fact.
I have never been good with faces, although a person's golf swing is like a fingerprint on my memory. I was watching some people play golf the other day from a distance of at least 400 yards. I couldn't possibly identify any of them until they started swinging the club. Then, I recognized every painful attempt to violate the laws of physics that these men used to try to send the ball somewhat in the direction of their target. But for some reason people's faces don't seem to stick with the same degree of permanence.
And during a pandemic where most people are wearing face coverings, I have virtually no idea who the other shoppers are in Hy-Vee. This has created a couple awkward encounters where people said “hi” with noticeable familiarity, yet I had no idea who they were. “Oh, hi. Say, um, would you mind taking a swing at this potato with this broom handle?”
Random Funny
Here's a random funny that happened to me when we lived in Omaha.
Orange is one of my favorite colors. I have orange shirts, underwear, golf shoes, socks, skin rashes, etc. I once wore one of my orange t-shirts to Home Depot, without giving a thought to the fact that all of their employees also wear orange shirts. Within a couple minutes my orange shirt caught the eye of a fellow shopper who asked me to help him find something I've never heard of that had something to do with either a septic tank or window glazing. I couldn't really follow what he was saying. He kept describing what he was looking for even after I told him I not only didn't work there, but that I had no clue what he was talking about. The same scenario played out a couple more times. One was with a customer who just spoke louder when I told her I didn't work there. It was like in the movies when some idiot who's trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak English decides that speaking louder will somehow shatter the language barrier.
I decided to leave the store without managing to shop for myself after the third encounter. A couple I estimated to be in their sixties came up to me and asked if the patio furniture was still on sale. They quickly continued before I could disappoint them with my non-employee status. They said they were out of town while the sale was ongoing, but was hoping to we would give them the sale price since they couldn't get to the store during the sale period. The wife was particularly miffed about the injustice. She actually told me Home Depot should communicate upcoming sales to their customers to avoid this sort of thing happening again. (So, there are people who would actually schedule their trips based on the timing of Home Depot sales?) I'd had enough by this time. As well, the absurdity of the lady's complaint stripped away my last shred of compassion or helpfulness. Instead, I very politley told them we would indeed honor the sale price, plus another 20% off that price for the insensitivity of not letting them know in advance the patio furniture was going to go on sale. All they had to do was go to Customer Service and ask for the manager on duty, Mr. Pidd, and that he would happily atone for the inconvenience Home Depot caused them. I told him Mr. Pidd's first name was Stu, and please make sure to use his first name when asking for him. They were absolutely thrilled with my exceptional customer service. I thought the wife was going to cry.
I wanted desperately to spy on them as they went to Customer Service asking for the non-existent manager Stu Pidd. But, as you might have guessed by now, there was no way I could do that without breaking out in virtually uncontrolled laughter.
I drove to Lowe's to do my shopping. And quite frankly, I didn't feel at all guilty about my prank, even though I probably should have. That's probably what happens when one deals with too many ridiculous complaints like that from golfers.
Next time I'll tell you about the time I pretended to be Willie McCovey once when I was in college. My future best man in my wedding, Jon, almost wet himself that time, as it was completely spur-of-the moment and he wasn't expecting it.
Who Said That?
In the world there is no democracy better than our democracy. Such a thing has never before been seen.
I have built my organization on fear.
America’s health care system is second only to Japan… Canada, Sweden, Great Britain… well, all of Europe. But you can thank your lucky stars we don’t live in Paraguay!
I was born at a very early age.
I’m speaking with myself, number one, because I have a very good brain and I’ve said a lot of things.
A. Al Capone (Self-Made Gangster)
B. Groucho Marx (Comedian)
C. Ayatollah Khomeini (Iranian Ruler)
D. Donald Trump (Self-Made Perv)
E. Homer Simpson (Self-Made Oaf)
Answers at end of journal.
Cline & Cash
Johnny Cash woke country music from its self-imposed stupor, forcing Nashville to recognize the broader influences that ultimately helped shape the future of country, folk and rock & roll. The below recording of Girl From the North Country with Bob Dylan is one such example.
Johnny took some flack from the Nashville establishment for this recording, to which he characteristically gave the establishment the bird, both figuratively and sometimes even literally.
Johnny Cash wasn't the only force of nature stirring up country music in the 50's and 60's. Party Cline isn't often viewed in the same rebellious light as Johnny Cash, but she too created her own gravity, and in the process brought country music to a wider audience, which in turn helped change both country music and rock & roll.
There's no better example of Ms. Cline's cultural gravity than the Willie Nelson penned Crazy. There's also no better example of the term masterpiece.
Ya Missin Sumpin
Many of you will recall the Lieuwen's Hardware fire around Christmas of 1978. Listening to paint cans, aerosol cans and ammunition explode in the midst of a large fire is hard to forget, particularly when you witnessed it as I did.
We lived directly across the street from Lieuwen's Hardware in the apartment above our cafe. I don't recall exactly how we were startled awake the morning of the fire, but I do recall at some point seeing thick gray smoke billowing up from the entry way of our restaurant, completely obscuring the view out the windows facing Main Street. Assuming the cafe was on fire below us, we immediately scrambled down the stairs and out onto Main Street.
Running panicked out of a burning building is not something most people ever experience, and so as I burst out the doorway onto the sidewalk I don't know what I expected to see. Perhaps I expected to see firefighters or more thick smoke. Perhaps I had no expectations; I just wanted as far away from the fire as I could get. So, I probably wouldn't have been surprised to see elephants blowing water out of their trunks onto the fire, or even dozens of monkeys using pickle jars to throw water on the fire. Any scene involving any species of animal using any method possible to extinguish the fire consuming our home and business would have been met with relief and gratitude. What I actually saw as I stumbled to safety utterly dumbfounded me.
Instead of firefighting monkeys, or even firefighters without tails frantically dousing the flames, I was gobsmacked to see the backsides of dozens of people, all of whom were staring across the street, away from the fire consuming our home. I must have said something, or otherwise made noise of some sort because a few people turned to look at me. They all made a puzzled face. They seemed like they wanted to laugh. Then, one of them elbowed someone and that person turned around, immediately generating the same puzzled expression, as if the monkey firefighters were behind me with their pickle jars. Several people were now gawking at me. That's when I noticed a massive fire across the street, and yet several people chose to watch me instead of the fire.
My feet were suddenly ice cold, as I'd dashed out of the apartment without socks or shoes. Looking down at my cold feet I realized why a small group of people found me temporarily more interesting than the four alarm fire just across the street: I was the only person in the vast crowd of pyro-spectators standing there in a pair of Aquaman underwear. It's possible others in the crowd were also wearing Aquaman underwear, but everyone else was wearing pants, so I couldn't discern the Aquaman fans from the Superman or Batman fans. I was a devout Aquaman fan, but this wasn't precisly how I'd envisioned professing my allegience to my superhero of choice. Nevertheless, a select group of pyro-spectators were now firmly of the understanding that Aquaman was my favorite superhero, and that I was so proud of it that I'd come out to watch Lieuwen's Hardware engulfed in flames in nothing but a pair of Aquaman briefs. Sensing how impressed my spectators were with the front of my Aquaman briefs, I immediately turned tail and made haste back to the apartment, showcasing the snappy backside in the process.
The rolling blankets of thick gray smoke that chased us from our apartment were, of course, from the fire across the street. The breeze that morning pushed some of the smoke into the entry way of our cafe. Having nowhere to go, the smoke curled back out of the entry way, up the front of the cafe and ultimately covered the windows in our apartment. That's why we thought our cafe was on fire.
And that's how I came to let my fellow townsfolk know that Aquaman was my hero.
Thoughts While Standing in the Shower Drinking Irish Whiskey From a Shampoo Bottle
If at first you don't succeed, your widow's second husband will likely never utter the words, “Hey Honey. Watch me kick this bull in the nuts.”
You don't have to be smart to ride a rocket to the moon, unless you want to return.
Stay safe, distanced, connected and well.
Sluggo
Answers: A2-B4-C1-D5-E3