Postings from Pop

Some years ago, my wife and I hosted a twenty-fifth anniversary party for the Captain of our fire station and his wife. It was held at our home on a Saturday afternoon, in Burlingame, located on a quiet and lovely street. For an anniversary celebration, it was a pretty darn good party. Twenty-something firemen and their wives were sucking down Les’ booze on a warm summer day. We used to have a saying about those kinds of events, “The booze was flowin' and the girls were glowin'.” It was a great time. A little later in the day, one of the couples had now crossed the compatibility line and stepped outside to continue with their connubial discourse. I could hear the verbal battle from my kitchen while amongst the festival continuum. I thought that this deserves some investigation so I went to my front lawn to witness the verbal fisticuffs going on. There they were, a formerly, happily married couple; now having a loud verbal, spirit generated drawdown on my front lawn

Although firefighters are innately heroes, their bravery is often balanced with a streak of devilishness which causes them to never pass an opportunity to inflict retribution for any prank or verbal missive directed at them; sometimes alone, sometimes in concert. The crew of one fire station had a prevalence towards buffoonery and tricks that had caused more than one embarrassing moment to others than just the firefighters therein. Buckets of water, flour, and confetti were just part of the tomfoolery tools engaged during moments of pause and with a priority for inclusiveness, no one was exempt. It seems that firefighter Bill had been serving out a full measure of trickery for an extended period.  While relentless on his engagements, he always appeared one step ahead of his pursuers.  It was time for some payback, thought his fellow members. Firefighter Bill drove a beat-up baby blue Volkswagen beetle. Judging by its condition, it may have been driven by Adolph Hitler himsel

My Dad taught me early on about the power of labor, free hands, and no pay. Whenever he was able, he’d use us kids to do all those little things on his worksite that made the project easy… for others. I was exposed to a lot of tradesmen in my early youth, most of them were related. In those days it was not uncommon to trade labor, favors or just a helping hand with your relatives and friends. In several instances of my childhood abuses, I was assigned as the plumber’s helper on many of my Dads projects. He had many projects as he and Mom kept cranking out kids. The plumbers were great guys all of them. They were also my uncles and while I loved them all.  In those early years I didn’t appreciate their craft as my assignments with them didn’t allow for it. “Don’t ask questions, stay ahead of their needs, no talking, no walking, run from place to place,” Dad would order. My uncles became spoiled working for my Dad, they had their own personal, adolescent robot each time they came o

Who would think that this current situation could happen with modern medicine, communication and high speed travel. But, here we are, staring at one another or hunkering down alone getting to those long lost tasks forever banished to a corner that now reveals itself. I am thankful for my departed wife's attention to the pantry inventory where I have enough Spam, tuna and bean dip for the next two years, chips not withstanding. Further, my skin conditioning is in no danger of advancing any further into advanced senior levels or as my grandson Quinn would say, "No more cracks in the face." I feel for all of you as well, as you engage your own kind of purgatory of confinement; how to keep everyone busy and wondering how to keep the family sustenance chain going. There was a movie from my childhood that has reappeared recently. It's called "The Day the Earth Stood Still." The situation today has that ring to it. We have to trust those in charge,