Monday, June 24, 2019

The Lamenting Long-Hauler

I had to take an Uber or Lyft back from the auto repair shop not long ago, and an older gentlemen picked me up.  He was exacting in getting my name checked as I got in and going over where I was headed.  I sensed that he was a retired man, yet wanted to make a little extra money and maybe even stay out of his wife’s hair for a few hours a day. 

He was slim, probably just about seventy years old, white, and dressed in denim pants and a white dress shirt.

When I was buckled up and ready for take off, we immediately started chatting, and somehow got onto the subject of driving long distances.  Knowing what I know about myself, and what I found out about him, the subject was inevitable.

Saturday, June 1, 2019

Oh Shit. It's June!


One of my sixth grade teachers at Dixie Canyon Elementary School, May Ambo, instilled fear in me about the month of June.

I was in her reading class, and we had been given the opportunity to choose from a selection of her small library of books at the start of the year.  I chose, “The Blue Man,” by Kin Platt.  From the cover, it looked like some sort of mystery.  And blue was my favorite color.  Apparently, my criteria for choosing book assignments at the time was based on loose association.  I really didn’t like reading much back then anyways.  Such a contrast to how I am now.  I am constantly reading.

I was part of the brighter class section.  Four home rooms rotated through four teachers each day…let’s see if I remember them…Ms. Zimmerman was our homeroom hostess and also our social studies teacher.  Ms. Trot was our history teacher.  She had a monotone way about her.  Ms. Bihn, a colorful southern woman, was our math teacher…and Ms. Ambo, English.