4 thoughts on “May 25, 2017

  1. if i’m not mistaken…. for awhile you did not include your new secret symbol (O2) in the count, but it seems that now you do. happy days. :-)

  2. Your watch repair strip caused me to post this to my Facebook account:

    When I was a kid in Borger (Texas) the only way I could make any money before I was old enough for a paper route was to clean my father’s store on a Sunday morning. When I got there he would let me in after I knocked on the door. He got his business from Andy Powers when Andy retired. The front third of the store on Main Street was a jewelry store. Then there was a dressing room and then a photography studio. Dad used a huge 8 x 12 inch view camera with cut film sheets. The back third of the store was his dark room and storage.
    I would start by emptying the trash cans and finish with spreading saw dust on all the linoleum floors and then using a big wide broom to sweep it into a dust pan. Dad always had some religious program playing on the AM radio. For this hour of work I got 50 cents. Unfortunately on my way home was a bookstore which sold paperbacks and some of them were 50 cents each. I collected the complete Tarzan of the Apes set one book at a time, one week at a time.
    The dark room was a mysterious place with trays of chemicals on the counter, a huge enlarger which could project the negative on the wall. The only light was from a couple of red light bulbs. Some of his portraits were huge, big enough to hang above a mantel. Since color prints faded with time, he would make a B&W print which my mom would sometimes tint with color.
    Along with selling rings and jewelry, he also cleaned and repaired clocks and watches. Back then watches were expensive and it paid to maintain them. (I have stored away a pocket watch presented to my Great-Grandfather when he retired. My oldest grandson is supposed to inherit this someday.)
    Occasionally someone would bring a watch in and fail to pick it up. After several attempts to contact the customer for payment, he would assume the watch was abandoned. Then he would let me wear it on a trial basis. No other kid in school had such fine watches as I had. They might have a Mickey Mouse watch but that was about it.
    And the watch so so finely adjusted I could tell to the second when the school bell would ring. This was hard to do before the age of digital watches, which was just around the corner. The Pulsar watch (very expensive) was just being introduced. I was big man on campus (grade school, that is) for having such a fine watch. My favorite was a military wristwatch with big numbers, a bulging face crystal, and everything glowed in the dark because of the radium paint. It was probably radioactive.
    So if you’ve read this far, I need to tell you the end to this tale. One summer I was with my Little League baseball team (Claude Robinson was our team’s sponsor. We called ourselves the “Claude Hoppers) practicing on a new baseball diamond near where the aluminum dome now is. There was also a new swimming pool nearby. I had showed my coach the new watch I was wearing and he said he once had a watch just like it when he was in the army.
    The field was incomplete as there was a roll of fence out in right field which had yet to be installed. I was day dreaming out there in right field that afternoon when the coach hit me a long fly ball. I held up my glove, began backing up, backing up when I backed into the roll of fencing and went over it on by back.
    When I stood up, I knew something was wrong. My left arm did not look right. It was a little crooked near the wrist. I had broken my arm.
    I held up my arm, glove still attached, as well as my treasured watch, and said, “Coach, I think I broke it.”
    Coach yelled back, “Don’t worry, Kenny, your dad can fix it.”

    • Fun story, thanks. With all your dad could do, I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a crack at fixing your arm. :^}

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