Talking to my New Ukulele

My friend Jim is a ukulele player—actually a pretty good one. A few days ago, he decided he wanted to upgrade and get himself a better one.

He gave me a call. He said he didn’t want to be the kind of person who starts to “collect” ukuleles. He wanted to know if I wanted his old one.

I haven’t owned or played a ukulele in years. I’m mainly a mandolin player, but I said “sure” to Jim. I always liked the way his ukulele looks and I like the fact that he gave it a name. Pearl.

When Jim brought Pearl over, he took a picture of me and her with his cell phone. That’s the photo you’re looking at in this post.

The next day, I sent Jim a message on Facebook. . .

Jim – Ms. Pearl Ukulele is getting familiar with her new surroundings and getting used to me too. At first she was reluctant to be tuned like a mandolin, said she was trying to be something she’s not. I told her this is the only way I know how to play her and she likes being played. Ms. Pearl came to her senses.

I think this is gonna work out. See ya on Thursday.

(Photo taken by Jim)

A Quad Cane

My son visited me last Sunday afternoon. I had been in my new apartment for a little over three weeks and had yet to stock up on groceries. Living here in Covington, Kentucky and just off Madison Avenue, Kroger is six or seven blocks up from me. I don’t drive anymore and stocking up on groceries is a bit hard if you try to do it taking the bus. My son has a car and on Sunday, he had the time.

On that Sunday, he also had a gift for me. A new cane. A quad cane—you know, a cane with those four ferrules at the base of it. I was a bit taken back at first. I resisted. I didn’t need something like that. My old cane was keeping me on my feet just fine. I thought about telling him to take it back to the store where he got it but I never got around to doing that.

During our grocery store run, I tried the cane out. I had to admit, it was giving me more support walking. I felt steadier on my feet and found myself walking a little faster.

I made quick work of the grocery store. I’ve been going to that Kroger on Madison Avenue for almost two years now and know the layout pretty well. I had a grocery list with me but didn’t need it. After I write down what I need, it’s pretty much in my head.

When we got back to the apartment, my son helped me put away the groceries. After that, we visited for quite a while. When it was time for him to go, I gave him a hug, thanked him for taking me grocery shopping and thanked him for the cane.

At least the quad cane is black and not silver and it makes me feel good that my son is looking out for me. I always tell people that I don’t really need a cane—that it’s a fashion statement—but people aren’t buying that anyway. I’m going to use the quad cane.

So now it’s official: I’ve turned into Frasier’s dad. That’s OK. I’ve always kind of liked that guy.

(Image from WordPress)

Fish Sandwich on Rye

A few nights ago, I got a phone call from my ex-wife. She was on her way home from work and wanted to swing by Covington and drop off some vitamins for me. These are multivitamins for men over 50. She knows I’ve been trying for much too long to get over a bad cold and she thought the vitamins might help. I said “sure, I’ll take them.” She said she would be over in about 20 minutes, would call when we turned onto my street.

She called and arrived a little after six o’clock. It was already dark outside and the outdoor light to my apartment building is out. As I don’t see all that well in the dark anymore and also walk with a cane, I carefully made my way down to the steps that lead to the apartment building.

My ex-wife not only had the vitamins for me but also dinner. She had stopped at a Frisch’s to pick up some dinner for herself, was having a fish sandwich on rye along with a salad, and she got me the same.

We talked for a little bit—talked about our kids which is always a fun topic for us. Both daughter and son are doing well. She listened to me complain about the outdoor light to the building being out for weeks. I thanked her for the vitamins and for the sandwich. I told her to be careful going home—something I also always tell our kids.

An hour or so later, I put that fish sandwich on rye in the microwave to warm it up. I had some poppy seed dressing that I would put on the salad.

As I ate the sandwich and salad, I thought of my ex-wife and our relationship. After the divorce, there were some rocky times between us but all things considered, not all that much. I think our basic approach with divorce was that we still had two kids to watch over. Now our daughter and son are adults but parents still tend to look out for their children. This is a bond we’ll always share—plus, we still like one another. We make better friends than spouses.

Tomorrow, December 3^rd, is our wedding anniversary. If we had stayed married, we would be at the 35 year mark. Instead, we were married for 17 years and now have been divorced for 18. 17 and 18 still add up to 35.

I’m taking the vitamins she gave me. Also, that fish sandwich on rye tasted really good.

Kindness Shouldn’t Come with a Price Tag

I’ve known Kevin since I moved to Covington back in July of 2011. I consider him a good kid despite the fact that he’s able bodied but doesn’t seem to want to work. Laziness is his big flaw.

Another flaw he has is smoking and I share this flaw with Kevin. The big difference here is that I actually pay for my smokes. Kevin doesn’t want to.

I’ve written here before how so many in Covington started to consider me their free cigarette dispenser. It got so bad; I had to take drastic steps to correct it. Now, nobody approaches me for cigarettes except for Kevin.

With Kevin, I made an exception. Sometimes he would take my trash to the curb on garbage day and when the cataracts in my eyes made it difficult for me to get out, on occasion; he would run errands for me. In return, I would give him a few cigarettes.

My cataract operations happened back in March and almost immediately, I started to see better. The eye surgeries enabled me to take my own trash out and run my own errands. Still, remembering what he had done for me, I continued to give Kevin cigarettes. It started to get out of hand.

Over the past four months; he has knocked on the door to my apartment building two or three times a day. Sometimes I would lie to him and tell him I was out of cigarettes. Other times, I simply gave in and handed a few over.

One morning two weeks ago, Kevin knocked on the apartment building door again. I went to the door and handed him two cigarettes and told him “this is it.” I told Kevin that he needs to buy his own cigarettes just like I do. I told him I can’t give them away anymore.

Since that time, on my daily walks in Covington, I see Kevin fairly often. I say hello as I pass him on the sidewalk. He looks the other way—I guess pissed that he can no longer count on me for his cigarettes.

Do I feel bad about this? Not really. I still think Kevin is a good kid, but what I’ve learned here in Covington is if you give people an inch, they’ll take a mile. I don’t know if it’s the economy or the neighborhood that brings this to the surface so much here but I’m not going to let myself be used, even my people I like or have helped me in the past.

To my way of thinking, kindness shouldn’t come with a price tag. If this ever becomes the norm in our society, and that includes Covington, then we’re all in for a lot of trouble.

(From this point on, I’m thinking about not doing a photo with every post. Let me know what you think)

Sometimes it’s Nice to Get Rather Than Give

Since moving to Covington, Kentucky in July of 2011, I’ve written many posts here about how people have considered me their own free cigarette dispenser. It was turning out to be such a problem that I now almost totally refuse anybody a free smoke.

Now, when I’m out for my walks and when someone approachs me, I have four standard answers that I give.

1. “I don’t smoke anymore.”
2. “I bummed this from someone.”
3. “I didn’t bring them with me.”
4. “No.”

But there’s this one guy that I sometimes see who always appears down on this luck. I can tell that it’s hard for him to ask me for a cigarette and I simply don’t have the heart to give him one of my four standard answers.

Having not seen him for a few weeks, I ran into him this past Saturday morning when I was out for a walk. He seemed glad to see me.

“Hey,” He said. “I’ve got something for you.

He reached into his coat pocket and handed me a pack of cigarettes. It was even my brand.

“Finally got a little money ahead,” he said. “Time to give you a little payback.”

I shook the man’s hand, thanked him and continued on my walk.

Starting to head home, I thought to myself that no stranger has never done this for me before, just giving me a pack of cigarettes. Sometimes it’s nice to get rather than give and like I’ve said many times before, acts of kindness need to be shared.

(Photo of Larry found on the internet)

Maggie needs to be Employee of the Month at Walgreens

I realize I write about going to Walgreens up on Madison Avenue here in Covington too often. I truly hate their high prices (if you follow me at all, you already know that), but living so close to the store and getting to know the cashiers and the other people who visit there and/or who sit on those bus benches in front of the store, has become a part of my life. I asked Maggie, one of my favorite cashiers, if I’m now considered a regular at Walgreens. Shyly, she nodded her head yes.

Maggie’s a little short lady with big glasses and black hair. She’s nice to all her customers—the most consistent cashier at Walgreens.

About three months ago after I bought a few items and before giving me the receipt, Maggie wrote her name on it and placed a smiley sticker under her name. I asked her what she was doing. She said there was a phone number on the receipt that I could call and could vote for her to be “Employee of the Month” at Walgreens (I’m not using Maggie’s real name here—just so you know).

I got home and called that number. I got a recording, of course, but I left a message suggesting that Maggie should be rewarded for her excellent cashier work and being nice to customers. I felt proud of myself for doing it.

Now why would I want to do this for Maggie? Because she would win a great prize for being Walgreens employee of the month. She would win a $10 gift certificate from them. She could spend it on anything in the store—anything at all!

Many weeks have gone by since I made that phone call. I see Maggie every so often and I always ask her if she won the award. She finally told me yesterday that the “Employee of the Month” award hasn’t changed in months. Basically, the management at Walgreens isn’t taking the time to even pay attention to it.

I wish I could use Maggie’s real name here but I don’t want to get her fired for what I’m about to say.

To the management at Walgreens—especially the management at the store on Madison Avenue in Covington. . . you suck. Your $10, in house gift certificate is an insult. Still this cashier would like to win it, but you, the management, can’t even pay attention. You can’t even remember it’s a monthly “award.”

Maybe this is why a lot of Walgreens cashiers seem unhappy in their jobs, because you, the management, can’t take the time to enforce even your shity incentives. You take your employees for granted.

I’ll keep going to the Walgreens on Madison Avenue, not because of the so-called management, but because of the “little people” who actually run the store.

Maggie needs to be employee of the month at Walgreens. Those in management need to pay attention to those who deserve to win this thing and not simply forget all about them.

(Photo found on Google)

Cornerstone

I walked over to the Cornerstone Project mostly out of curiosity. Having lived in Covington for almost a year, I’ve walked by it several times not knowing exactly what it was. Formerly a Madison Avenue storefront, it sort of looks like a makeshift church. It has a wooden cross in the front window. Inside, there are tables and chairs all around.

To read “Someone Wants to Meet You at Cornerstone,” click here.

I’ll put up another new post on Sunday. Have a great weekend.

(Photo from Article 25)

Nice Guys Finish Last

After I typed the title of this post, I did a Google search on this old saying wanting to know who first said it. It came from baseball manager Leo Durocher in 1939. Now Leo was talking about the game of baseball, but those words he said also apply now to men in general that are too nice.

Actually, what should be said is that “Nice people finish last.” There are plenty of nice women out there too that try to help others and get taken advantage of. Yes, that’s what I think sometimes when I’m just trying to be helpful, trying to be nice to someone. Those people who aren’t so nice see “niceness” as a form of weakness—something they can use to their benefit.

That piece I wrote here last week about not loaning a neighbor a spatula is sort of an example of trying to toughen up with some people around me who always want something. It’s like being approached for a cigarette when walking down the street. People know I’m nice about it. They’ll take advantage of that fact over and over again.

This constant giving away of cigarettes or neighbors wanting forks or spatulas aren’t the only examples of me wanting to do away with this nice guy image. Let me tell you about three encounters I had last week with some tenants in the building where I live in downtown Covington, Kentucky. I swear to god this is true.

Monday, 10:30 p.m. An upstairs neighbor knocks on my door.  He’s a big, mean looking “kid” and knows it. I was just getting ready to go to bed. That was of no concern to him. He wanted me to give him my password to my internet service. Yes, he wanted this password to get his internet service for free and to let me pay for it. Lying, I said I wasn’t sure what the password was—that my son had set everything up. There is no doubt in my mind he’ll be back at some point wanting to know if I’ve found out my password.

Wednesday, 1:40 a.m. I’m in bed when I hear someone knocking on my door. I asked “Who is it?” It was a tenant on the third floor. I opened my door. She wanted to know if I had a pair of scissors she could borrow. Like an idiot, I gave her the scissors. She still hasn’t given them back.

Saturday, 3:30 a.m. Of course I’m in bed when I hear a knocking on my door. It was another upstairs neighbor, a young girl very drunk smoking a cigarette. Know what she wanted? The minutes on her cell phone were up and she wanted to use my phone to call her boyfriend. Yes, Mr. Nice Guy let her do it.

Again, I want to be the nice guy but I’m realizing if you don’t set limits, you’re going to get walked on and used. Changes are in order.

To the tenant here who wants the password to my internet service, I’m going to say “pay for your internet.” If this big, mean kid wants to get physical about it, I can always use my walking cane as a weapon.

After I get done writing this post, I’m going upstairs and pay a visit to the lady who wanted my scissors. I’m getting them back.

The next time that drunken young girl wants to borrow my cell phone; I’m going to tell her to go find a phone booth. There has to be a few left up there on Madison Avenue. If there’s not, she can always send a letter.

I’m gonna try and stick with this, folks. It’s time to get a backbone.  No more Mr. Nice Guy.

(Photo from eatyourcareer.com)

Amazon Isn’t Always the Beast

When it comes to Amazon—you know, Amazon.com—very often I consider them the beast. They’ve run too many bookstores out of business because bookstores, especially the smaller ones, can’t match their prices. Also, as a writer, when someone purchases one of my books through Amazon, in comparison to other online bookstores, I make less money. I’m just saying.

But Amazon isn’t always the beast. I consider it an act of kindness that they’re getting into the textbook business and are going to help college students with those high prices. Click here to read more about it.

I remember going to college and having to pay for those textbooks which were way overpriced.  I’m sure it’s even worse now. Of course when I returned those books, I got a fraction of that money back. It didn’t seem fair.

Amazon is leveling the playing field on this. Maybe it will reduce those overpriced campus bookstores and I think we need to thank “the beast” for that.

(Photo from hpb.com)

Kate Christensen: Novelist, Soup Kitchen Worker

I have admired Kate Christensen’s writing for a while now. She’s an award winning novelist who knows exactly what she’s doing. I could write a post about this, but that’s not what’s on my mind today.

My communication with Kate isn’t really real. I mean, we’re Facebook friends but, for the most part, I don’t really know her. Let’s be honest: How many Facebook friends do you actually know? Don’t get me started on this.

Anyway, I’ve always suspected she’s a person with a good heart. I found this out for real a few days ago on her blog.

Kate lives in Portland, Maine. Now, not only is she an award winning novelist, she also works in a soup kitchen, donating her time to those less fortunate.

How many novelists do you know who also work in a soup kitchen? She’s the first one for me and those women going to that soup kitchen in Maine are going to be in for a treat. Kate is quite the cook also.

It does my heart good to suspect that a person is good and kind and have it confirmed. Acts of kindness always gets to me.

We’ll be back on Sunday with another post.

(Photo from papermag.com)