Category: MyHistory

My grandpa Riga had Alzheimer’s toward the end of his life. My aunt Rita was a good and dutiful daughter who visited him every day and ensured he received the best medical care.

One day, he was told that that his son was finally coming to visit. Suddenly, he perked up and exclaimed Oh my son, my son. A son is a true blessing. My aunt asked what about your daughters? My grandpa’s response was a daughter? Well … a daughter is … just a daughter.

Needless to say, that did not go over well with her and her 2 sisters.

One day I went over my grandma Seiler’s house and found her upset over something. I asked for details and she told me she got a ticket for speeding and crossing the double yellow lines. According to her, it was total bullsheet.

Now, understand that my grandma was in poor health and had a seriously bum foot. She could not hit the brakes in a hurry, even if she wanted to. It turned out that she was traveling behind a cop and decided he was going to slow. She was on her way to the doctor’s and didn’t want to be late. She crossed the double yellow and lapped him.

She stated it was rude and impolite to give a ticket to an old woman. LOL. What a great story grandma. I miss you dearly.

hen I was a kid, I saw a poor man in a sorry state walking on the street and laughed. My grandpa Riga chastised me and asked how I knew he was poor and not just another man who had no money?

I asked him what’s the difference? He said In 5 years, a man without any money will have something. In 5 years, a poor man will still be broke.

Many ages ago, when I was in the Army we were constantly sent out in the field for training maneuvers. We were required to eat a hot meal everyday. I had to drive an hour to the other side of the base just to pick it up. I decided that was inefficient and was not going to do it.

Instead, I came up with a brilliant plan to swipe several loaves of bread and jars of peanut butter and jelly. For the next 30 days, I happily ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

As it turns out, that is an extremely bad idea. You see, I got a VERY painful case of constipation. After 2 days in hospital I was relieved when I successfully delivered a homemade PBJ loaf to the staff.

Unfortunately, when I returned to base I got 30 days PX duty for damaging Army property (ie. myself).

When I was a kid, my friend Jimmy H. and I decided to play cowboys and Indians. We found a toy pistol, a bow, but no arrows. Jimmy said that his brother had some arrows in a locked cabinet in the basement. Fortunately, he knew where the key was.

After an hour of shooting razor sharp hunting arrows at each other, we became bored. We decided that we would shoot the arrows up in the air to see how high we could make them go. Our very first attempt was a disaster. The arrow came down and stuck in his roof.

Not wanting to get in trouble, we went to retrieve it. Jimmy’s dad came home to find his son dangling out a third story window, wildly flailing a yard rake around, trying to knock the arrow loose. Meanwhile, his idiot friend was holding by him belt to keep him from falling.

More proof that young boys need to be supervised.

My older sister Bonnie reminded me of a story when she was learning to drive a stick shift. Now, my parents were not the type to provide guidance or training. So, my sister had to learn to drive by herself.

One day, she stalled the car in the middle of a busy intersection. After several stressful minutes, she simply got out of the car, announced that she can’t do this anymore, and proceeded to walk home. I was left sitting in an abandoned car, with the driver’s door open, cars honking all around, and people yelling at me to move it!. Yeah right.

To this day, she still can’t drive a stick.