Santa Went to Starbucks

 

SANTA WENT TO STARBUCKS

Everyone needs a good Christmas story for the holidays.  We all long for a tale that will warm the hearts and give us faith that there is hope in the New Year.  This is my Christmas story and I hope it spreads the joy for you like it did for me

It all started on a recent Saturday morning.  My wife, Denise, and I had decided to go to Starbucks for an early morning caffeine fix.  It was a cold day in November with leaves blowing in a frosty wind and everyone had the same idea.  The line at Starbucks was long, filled with Mercedes, BMW’s and the like.  I pulled my old Saturn up to the curb and Denise jumped out to go inside, no way was she going to wait in that line. 

    While she was inside I turned the radio on to listen to the latest news and to find out what the weather would be.  That’s when I spotted him.  He was a sharp dressed man sporting a leather coat over black jeans.  The jeans had an appliqué on the back pocket.  He sported a $100 haircut and walked with a certain don’t *%ck with me attitude.  Sorry ladies I didn’t notice his shoes.  As he passed me and my old Saturn he shot me a look that let me know that he considered his station in life to be several rungs above mine. He walked briskly and carried a large Starbuck cup with a beautiful Christmas design.  This might be profiling but this dude had Republican written all over him.

In one hand he was carrying an IPad that I imagined he used to make enormous stock trades while in Starbucks.  He arrived at his vehicle and started to fumble for his keys.  Why should such a fine gentleman be denied a third hand?  Without the extra appendage he was forced to set his Starbuck’s cup on the roof of his car.  He used the remote on his keys to spring the door and his IPad received a warning of e-mail or other electronic alert.  He glanced at his device and slid behind the wheel.  I witnessed him behind the wheel but his Starbuck’s cup remained on the roof.  Now I know it was the holidays and my Christian upbringing forced my mind to consider doing the right thing.  But that’s when I saw it.  “It” was that twisted horn logo of a foreign car company on the center of his wheel hub.  That’s right, the little son of a %^&$ was drivin’ a Toyota.

During the next few seconds many images sweep through my consciousness.  I saw my dad signing up for the Army the day after the Pearl Harbor attack.  I remembered all of my brothers and sisters who had been laid off or let go when the Japanese transplants were allowed into our country.  Finally I thought of Tennessee Republican, Jim Corker who even today stands in the way of the UAW organizing a Volkswagen plant in his state while carrying water for Toyota at every turn.  After these feelings had subsided, I looked through my window at the man in his Toyota, smiled and mouthed the words “Merry Christmas.”  Annoyed that a lesser individual would attempt human contact with such an advanced creature he jerked the Toyota into gear.

The cup held its place momentarily while he backed up from the parking spot but when he hit “drive”, and then the accelerator, the cup tipped and fell back.  The hot liquid inside bulged the cup and the white plastic top came unhinged.  His double caramel latte spread down his back window like a virus through a pre-school.  As he pulled out of sight the white froth had begun to collect in that space between his rear glass and the deck lid.  I hope the Toyota folks engineered that seal right and the kids on the line installed it properly or he will be cleaning that caramel smell out of his trunk until next summer.

Denise returned moments later with her usual non-fat Chi Latte and asked, “What are you smiling so big about.”  I said, “I think Santa brought me a little gift early this year.”  We continued on with our day and suddenly the holidays had new meaning.

Early Autumn

The sun is setting slowly

Creeping down the hall

Leaving splashes of color

Between summer and the fall

 

Only the highest branches

Hold the color of the time

Crispness of the evening

Holds yet another sign

 

Summer fights destruction

Like a fighter in late rounds

Holding off a strong opponent

With roots deep in the ground

 

But you can’t refuse the seasons

Fall won’t be denied

Colors pouring from the nature

Spill on the countryside

 

Autumn will have its moment

Like the worm before the swim

We all know what follows autumn

But then summer comes again

Brand New Deal

 

 

                     Life’s Lessons

I was absolutely horrified! My mom had just told me I would be starting Kindergarten in a few weeks.  She informed me all of the kids that I had grown up with; Bobby, Kenny, Michael and Ricky would be attending St. Patrick’s Catholic School while I would be attending Dublin Elementary, the local public school with my neighbor, Little Betty, who was a year older so she wouldn’t even be in my class. I would know no one and would have to make new friends.  This was not something I looked forward to and it was a huge stress in my young life for the next few weeks.

 I knew my friends went to a different church on Sunday but had no idea it would determine where we went to school.  I went to the Community Church where everyone was invited and each Sunday we sang “Jesus Loves the Little Children of the World.” I was sure I was one of those little children and hand painted a ceramic figurine for my mom saying exactly that.

Well the first day of school came and we loaded in the old Chevy and headed for the school, several miles away. Dad drove with mom in the passenger seat and me between them.  Mom had dressed me in my best shirt with the little boats on it, jeans with cuffs and my new leather shoes. My mom wore a long skirt that day that draped to her ankles. These long skirts were special for me.  You see my dad worked nights at General Motors so I was home with mom in the evening.  Sometimes she would let me stay up late to watch “Shock Theatre” which was the classic horror movies of the time.  When this happened, Mom would sit on the couch and I would sit on the floor between her feet watching TV and when the scary parts came I would pull that long skirt over my head until just my face was sticking out.  This is how I felt safest. It seemed like the trip to school took about 20 seconds and before I knew it I was walking in the door with mom while dad waited in the car enjoying a Lucky Strike.

The hallway seemed to be a mile long and filled with kids and parents all signing up to be run through the U.S. Education System.  It was scary to me.  Mom took me into the principles’ office where I was sure my demise would take place.  The principle was a scary man.  He was heavy set with thick glasses and a brown suit. Most of his hair was missing and he had a very serious look about him, no smiling allowed. While mom made the arrangements for the hand-off I found a back door to the principles’ office and made a run for the car.

Upon arriving at the car my dad said “boy, you better get back in that school.”  Realizing she had an escapee, mom wasn’t far behind and lead me back to what I was sure was the gallows.

Going back down that long hallway I spotted a woman.  She looked much friendlier than the principle.  I didn’t know it yet but Mrs. Franklin would be my Kindergarten teacher.  Her smile lit up the whole building.  About halfway down the hallway my mom pulled me aside and bent down to talk to me.  She told me one of the most important things I would ever learn in my life when she said “just be nice and people will like you.” The way she looked at me I could tell this was very important and needed to be something that I could do.  Then she took me on down the hall and passed me off to Mrs. Franklin and her big smile.  I watched and wiped my eyes as her long skirt and my childhood safety swayed down the hall.  Somehow Mrs. Franklin already knew my name and welcomed me to the class room. I had never seen so many kids my age in one place but now I knew the secret; just be nice and people would like me.  So, I did and they did. 

I got through that first day and even saw Little Betty when we went outside for recess.  This made me feel more at home.  Mrs. Franklin was a lot like my mom, kind and loving, down to earth and authentic.  The day went by fast and soon Mrs. Franklin walked us to the buses and somehow she knew my bus was #6 where I sat next to Little Betty and headed home.  The bus let us off in front of Little Betty’s house. I was amazed how all these adults seemed to know where we lived and when to stop the bus.  The bus stop was a short jog to home.  My friends and I met in the ball field next to my house to tell the stories of our first day at school.  My buds told me they said prayers and were afraid of someone called nun.  It sounded scary to me.

As time went by I started to enjoy school and looked forward to going.  I made many friends and realized how important my mom’s words were to me and what a huge impact they had on my life. My mom could give a good lesson to people of the world today.  “Just be nice and people will like you.”  It seems simple but what a better world we would have if everyone would practice my mom’s life lessons.

Thanks for listening . . . Tony

 

Porkie and Friends

It was the 60’s in Union Lake, Michigan.  My dad worked at the General Motors Truck and Bus Plant in Pontiac on the grounds that the M1 Concourse now occupies.  I was a fifth grader at the Dublin Elementary School where we were learning the essentials of becoming productive members of society. Things like teamwork, sharing and respect for our elders were at the top of the agenda.  I lived on Cooley Beach Drive and life was good on our 2 acre mini-farm.  You see my dad was originally from Arkansas and my mom from Missouri; they had come north for the security and work of the auto industry.  My dad had always wanted to be a farmer but had to leave school in the 10^th grade to help support his 12 siblings.  He was officially an autoworker but still had a lot of farmer in his veins.  That’s how the rabbits showed up.

On our little farm we grew corn, tomatoes, green onions and even peanuts.  Every day after school my job was to work the crops, feed the chickens and eventually we had rabbits.  My dad built fine cages just behind the garage and under the Weeping Willow tree where the rabbits lived.  Each rabbit had their own cage complete with water and food dishes.  They were the cutest most loving little creatures I had ever seen.  They all had names, provided by me, that described each of them.  I don’t remember all their names at this point but I remember one little guys’ name was “Porkie”.  He was the hefty dude with a nose that wiggled adorably when I walked by.  He made me smile and I was sure he loved me like I loved him.  His coat was shiny black and white and his dark eyes shone with a depth that you could see far into.

As the summer wore on; the crops came in.  The corn was picked and shucked and the peanuts were dug up and stored. The hound dogs were safe and sound inside their houses fashioned out of old refrigerators.  My dad made these dog houses with a door cut out of the bottom and the big door on the frig. became the roof of the house that made an easy access for fresh straw.  Porkie and his buddies were looking good; fat and happy with shiny coats, clear eyes and happy lives provided by yours truly and my efforts to feed, water and clean their hutches.  I never noticed the dark clouds moving in.

As I moved along the line of hutches one day making sure all was well with my bunny buddies my dad walked by and said “pretty soon it will be time to skin em’ and eat em’.  My heart dropped to the area near my shoes.  The vision of Porkie and the others being killed and eaten’ was more than my fifth grade mind could absorb.  My course of action was swift and decisive.  I headed for the house at a full sprint screaming for the one person I knew would understand…my mom.  Mom met me near the back door having heard the incredible racket I had made over the proposed demise of my rabbits.  Now, I am sure that I had previously eaten’ wild rabbit that my dad had brought home from hunting trips.  These were not wild rabbits; this was Porkie and his siblings.  They were my friends.  After a hard day at school they were there to cheer me up and give me a sense of responsibility and accomplishment having given them food, water and love.

The solution was quite easy.  Mom simply opened the back door and yelled “Charlie, don’t you kill that boys’ rabbits.”  I knew mom held the veto power and Porkie and friends would be safe; completely covered by my mom’s loving force field.  Dad was not happy but he knew it was not a fight he could win and didn’t give me a hard time about it.  Porkie and friends lived out their lives under the Willow Tree behind the garage where they eventually died of old age and were provided proper funerals in the garden near the peanut patch.  I learned an important lesson about how valuable mom’s are in our lives.

The Payment

 

                     My Aunt Ruby

I grew up in the 50's and 60’s in Union Lake Michigan.  Around me were a lot of great people who helped me grow in every way that was important. Go to school, work hard, treat others the way you would like to be treated and help those who had less or were going through hard times.  No one actually talked about these things much; all you had to do was watch what these folks did and do that.  They were the perfect examples of how to live your life successfully.  Everyone in the neighborhood looked after each other and was ready at a moment’s notice when someone needed help.

My Aunt Ruby was one of these people.  She was my dad’s sister and a good friend to my mom.  She and Uncle Claude lived nearby so I saw them a lot and there were always cookies at Aunt Ruby’s.   Aunt Ruby is no longer with us but we will always keep her in our hearts and try our best to be like her.  You see, for many years she nursed people back to health at the Oakland County Tuberculosis Sanatorium in Union Lake. It was a job that required incredible patience because it took a long time, sometimes years, to recover. After World War II Tuberculosis broke out worldwide and the U.S. had many cases.  With the vaccine that was developed in 1921 in Paris, France by Albert Calmette and Camille Guérin at the Pasteur Institute many folks got the vaccine and then some treatment drugs became available in the 50’s. This one – two punch finally overcame the disease and by 1964 the Sanatorium was sold to Oakland Community College.  Aunt Ruby had worked herself out of a job after helping many folks recover from this deadly disease. I would later take some college courses in the same building where Aunt Ruby worked.

We now enter a time where science is questioned by non-scientists and treatments are questioned by those with a non-medical agenda, TB is making a comeback.  There are approximately 170 cases in Michigan and TB has crept back up to the 13th leading cause of death worldwide.  Many funds for medical research have been halted recently.

The photo included with this story is the current OCC Building that sits on the site where the Sanatorium was.  The property was sold to Oakland County in 1964 and the old Sanatorium was demolished in 2013.

Oakland County is attempting to repurpose the property again with Waterford Township. Hopefully we will not have to turn it back into a Sanatorium.  A smart person once said that history repeats itself.  I hope this isn’t one of those times.  Thanks for listening . . . Tony

An Early Christmas

 

                                             

AN EARLY CHRISTMAS

Sometimes I think things happen for a reason.  Recently I noticed that a local radio station has started playing Christmas music much too early again this year.  Don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas music as much as the next person but it’s hard to get in the mood when it’s 60 degrees plus and the sun is shining bright.

On this particular day I had gone to lunch with my wife at a local restaurant that we had eaten at many times before.  The only strange thing was the restaurant had moved over one street since the last time we had been there and had opened in a brand new building.  I admit the food was still good but the atmosphere left something to be desired.  Maybe it was just too new, I don’t know.  Anyway, back to the holiday story.

So we had our lunch, paid and left the restaurant.  When we walked across the parking lot we spotted an elderly woman, about my mom’s age (early eighties) who was sitting in a 70 something Red Oldsmobile station wagon with what could have only been all of her worldly possessions in there with her.  The Olds was full to the windows with all of the things that made this woman’s life complete but when she hit the key the engine made that clicking noise.  You know the one that says “you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”  My wife and I looked at each other and without a word we knew we had to help the lady in the Olds. 

But running through my head was the fact that without my dad’s, union won, pension and survivor’s benefit this could be my mother!  Without the UAW health care benefits this could be my mom; stranded behind a restaurant.  A place she had probably come to get a warm meal . . . out of the dumpster, with all her worldly belongings and an easy target for those who would take advantage of her situation.

Well, we pulled around the restaurant, hooked up the cables and jumped the Oldsmobile.  The old wagon leaped to life and with a little smoke and rattle she was off.  Before she left she thanked us and blessed us but we already had all the blessings that we needed.  That feeling you get when you help someone out, especially when it’s someone young, old or in a bad way.  Our holiday season was complete. 

As we drove off I looked for that station with the Christmas music.  I guess it wasn’t too early after all.