Friday, May 27, 2016

Why Be Ordinary?

I have had some interesting jobs throughout my life.  Interesting and fun to me.  My father-in-law however once asked me, "Where do you find all these strange jobs?"  He was a Naval aviator his entire life.  While I have had job diversity.

Before I got married I had been employed as a receptionist for a group of pediatricians.  I suppose my favorite father-in-law considered this a normal respectable job.  Then I got married and the fun began.

While living in Japan I taught English to children.  This may not seem particularly odd.  Some mothers just wanted their children to come and play with my kids and they would pay me.  Others wanted me to come to their doll sized apartments so the children could hear my accent.  (FYI:  I did not have an accent.  They did.)

Back in the States I would occasionally entertain the idea of going back to work.  I delivered biweekly newspapers the old fashioned way-walking.  That was a great gig:  exercise for pay.  Until one dusk I came face to face with a black masked bandit.  Mr. Raccoon.  I was convinced there were other creatures hiding in the shrubs waiting to pounce on me as I scooted from house to house.  That was the end of that job.

I jumped for UPS one Christmas.  That was another exercise for pay job.  The driver would slow to a snails crawl.  I hopped out of the truck, sprinted to the door, gently placed the package down, and raced back in the truck.  I was able to down many cookies that Christmas without a worry of holiday pounds.

One Valentine's day I worked for four days delivering flowers.  Such a fulfilling job.  People are so happy to see you carrying bouquets of sweet smelling beauty.   Well, most are pleased to see you.  There was always that one person, "There's none for me...?"

Then all my children started school and I got a "real" job in my father-in-law's eyes.  I became a preschool teacher.  He couldn't understand, though, why it was two year olds I taught.  The secret is they are really, really sweet.  Nothing terrible about them.  It's a bad rap.

That was ordinary.  I do not like to be ordinary.  So to spice up life, my unordinary friend talked me into doing a flash mob at the San Diego Fair.  We took lessons and learned how to dance to Michael Jackson's Thriller.  It was exhilarating to dress as a zombie and entertain/scare people.

Fast forward to Iowa.  I again felt the need to be something other than ordinary.  While cruising through Craigslist I found my next paying gig.  The mall needed an Easter Bunny!

What fun!

Children love the Easter Bunny.  All children.  Although some can not get within 30 feet of the Bunny before turning to butter and screeching "No!  No!  No!"

Others professed their love for the bunny.  One four year old felt the need to pray with me.  Some children had to be pried off my lap their love was so great.  And some tried to make off with my extra large Easter eggs.

The oldest "child" I saw was 98.  He didn't even ask for anything special in his Easter basket.  He just smiled for the camera.

A couple of grandpas came to have their pictures taken with the bunny for grandchildren far away.  It must have been a delight for these children to get a picture of Grandpa being brave and sitting beside the Bunny.

The strangest visitors were a couple in their forties on their first date.  He pulled her into my springy compound.  "We must have a picture with the Bunny.  It will give us something to laugh about in 20 years."

He was pretty confident for their first date.  What I really wanted to know is why their first date was at the mall?  This mall had no restaurants or coffee shops.  What were they doing?  Did they have a second date?  I may never know.  I'll have to ask Santa.  He keeps tabs on people for his nice or naughty list.

Now I'm back to being ordinary.  Working at school and mowing my lawn.  I'm on the lookout for my next adventure at being odd.  If you have any suggestions or want to come on an adventure let me know!




Wednesday, May 11, 2016

An Iowa Concert

Jack, my brother-in-law,  was visiting Iowa in winter.  Besides constructing snow men and throwing around balls of frozen water, I wanted to entertain him.  Iowa style.  I asked if he would like to go to a concert?  He would.  I informed him we could have supper there also.  "Great!  We have places like that in Houston with outstanding new bands," he replied.

"Yeah.  Just like that."  Sort-of.

I told Jack the name of the place we were going was called The Corn Crib.  He came back with, "I don't want to go there.  I don't want to eat outside."

Outside?  What was he talking about?  This was Iowa in the dead of winter.  It was 7 degrees outside. Did he think I would eat outside?

Then my light bulb came on.  There is a spot on my acreage we call the corn crib.  It is a cement slab in the middle of the property with a fantastic view of the river and fields and tractors rambling down the road.  This is the spot when work is done and relaxing is called for.  It's also where the corn crib used to stand.  This Texas boy thought anything called the corn crib was for relaxing outside.  I've been called crazy many a time, but not that crazy to eat a full meal outside in near subzero temps.

After clarifying this was indeed a restaurant with heat and indoor plumbing, he was in for the adventure.  Jack dressed in his best blue jeans and a fine looking shirt.  He was in for a surprise!

We hurried out of the icy wind into The Corn Crib.  Jack took the place in.  Informal restaurant seating on the left, a convince store on the right with random tables scattered through out.  A large circle was cleared by the windows with chairs around the perimeter. The band was warming up in them.

"Look!"  I cried.  "There's a table right next to the band."

Jack squeezed into his chair.  "This is it?  This is the band?  I don't think there is a person under 80 in it.  And the instruments...That lady has a...What is that anyway?"

"Well, it's a...I think it's a...."  I had no idea what it was.  It appeared to be a large cane with a cowbell, a bicycle horn, a metal box, some jingle bells, and another kind of bell decorating the top.  She was armed with a drum stick ready play it some how.

There were a few guitars scattered around the chairs, a banjo, several harmonicas, and a man with two spoons.  A couple the chairs just held people sitting and smiling.

Jack inspected the menu.  "What do you recommend?"

I informed him The Corn Crib had won an award for it's hot beef sandwich.  I had not actually tried it.  This was going to be the night to indulge in an award winning meal.  Jack agreed.

The band began to warm up.  An elderly man was sitting at a table with a suitcase at his feet.  What appeared to be the band's spokesman inquired of this man if he was playing tonight.  He shook his white head no.  My curiosity was aroused as to what was in that suitcase.  I supposed I was to never find out.

Our meal arrived as the band started to play.  Steaming tender roast nestled between two soft pieces of bread.  Mashed potatoes adorned the rest of the plate.  All was drenched in brown gravy.  Our server bet I could not eat the entire thing.  I proved him wrong!  Jack had to roll me out the door!

Everyone in the chairs took turns choosing songs.  The mike was passed around the circle so all the participating band members could sing.  The lady with the musical cane used her drum stick to tap the cow bell or the metal box.  One man strummed his guitar while simultaneously blowing his harmonica.  The man with the spoons thumped them against his knee.  It was loud, too loud for a conversation.

Jack did manage to yell at me.  "I suppose the spoon man has a sore knee by the end of the night."

I supposed the man had a calloused knee from playing those musical spoons.

Six songs into the concert the man with the suitcase rose and joined the band.  The mystery as to what the suitcase held was soon to be solved.

Slowly he opened the lid and pulled out an ordinary board cutting saw.  Was he the resident magician?  Was he going to saw someone in half?  Was I sitting too close to the band that I would be volunteered?

I started to rise to sprint out the door when the white haired man began to play a tune with the ordinary saw.  That was a musical instrument?

Yes it was!  He played a couple of solos.  It was easy to recognize the song.  The saw laid across his legs as he bent it to and fro.  I have no idea how the tune was actually played.  I decided it was just talent.  That or he had goofed off many times when he was supposed to be actually working with that saw.

Everyone in the band had a genuine smile on their face.  There was ice and a bitter wind outside.  But inside The Corn Crib everyone was warm, toasty, full, and having a grand time.  Jack suggested we come again some time.  Next time we should bring Claudia.  I suppose that will happen when the temperatures rise above 80.