CURED

 A few weeks ago, I discussed my severe case of car fever. Well, I am healed! Yes, I took the dive and bought a new ”used” car. It’s my brother’s fault. He asked me on a Saturday to ride with him as he completed some errands. When I told him I hadn’t decided to by a car yet, he replied that there was no harm in looking.  

That drive to Rusty Wallace Nissan did me in. Upon arriving at the dealership, I immediately saw the vehicle in which I was most interested. Jim led me to the salesman with whom he’d dealt, and before long I was sitting in a cubicle talking about that car and the deal it would be. To be honest, the vehicle was spot on. It was the color I wanted, and it had plenty of bells and whistles, something my other cars never had.  

I drove the car home, but I called Amy to prepare her for what I was doing. She looked at the car and liked it. However, she wanted to know how we would pay for it. We had agreed to wait until April before shopping, but I told her that this car was a 2024 with only 2914 miles on it. That meant it was virtually new. Additionally, the dealership was running a sale, and the first payment wasn’t due until May.  

The salesman, David Bonah, made the experience the best one I’ve ever had. Usually, I leave car buying to Amy. She’s a tough negotiator and has no qualms about walking out if things don’t work right. David was forthcoming and helpful, and I felt that he was honest in his work with me. A few days later, he even helped me to sell my 2011 Pathfinder on the day it was listed for sale. David has also made himself available to answer questions that I have had.  

This new car scares me. I don’t like for things to be smarter than I am. However, this Pathfinder has heated seats and steering wheel, all sorts of driving aids, a wonderful sound system, and charging portals. Best of all, the car has Apple Play, which allows me to listen to my own music. Understanding how to set to door locks took some time, but I am a fan of how they work without fumbling with the key fob all the time. 

I’ve had a trailer hitch added and have hauled mulch for landscaping at the house. The muck from the mulch place dirtied up my new ride, so I cleaned it. The passage of time will be necessary before the “I can’t stand for my car to be dirty” feelings to subside. Of course, I dread the first ding from another car’s door hitting or a gravel chipping the paint, but once that happens, I’ll settle down. 

The first Pathfinder I bought in 1987. It was brand new, but the car had not back seat, radio, or air conditioning. Adding them afterward was more economical. The 2011 model that I was driving had some features that were nice. Now I have a car that’s smarter than I am, I don’t understand all the features that are offered, and I’m nervous about the first ding. Isn’t grand to live in this age? Maybe the best thing of all is that I bought this new Pathfinder before tariffs raise prices by several thousands of dollars. 

VACCINATIONS

 This year has already kicked the behinds of folks. The weather has been...wintry, complete with snow and endless rain. Around here, winter hasn’t been this rough in several years. We’ve also had to deal with some downright nasty viruses. One, in particular, leaves its victims struggling for as long as a month. A stomach bug has locked a few friends in their bathrooms, or at least they have been close enough to the water closet to avoid a terrible accident when the next cramp hits.  

We’re a sickly nation this year. I can’t imagine what our predicaments would be if many of us hadn’t been vaccinated. The thoughts of anything like the covid pandemic hitting spikes our anxieties. For some reason, debates are swirling about vaccinations, but I don’t understand the problem. 

At six-months old, Jim and I came down with cases of the chicken pox. Although our parents suffered through our outbreaks and itching and crying and even squalling, I am thankful that I wasn’t old enough to know what was going on.  

Before we were school age, the mumps hit us. This time, Mother also fell ill, and I remember the concern for her since adults don’t handle such illnesses as well as children.  

The measles came along during our elementary school years. I remember looking in the mirror at the rash that covered my entire body. What the differences are between the German measles and more serious red measles is mystery to me. All I remember is suffering with a fever and not being able to watch television for fear that our eyesight might be affected.  

The reason that we contracted these diseases had nothing to do with parent neglect. It seemed that as a child we were on the way to the doctor’s office for another vaccination every couple of weeks. On the first day of school, other first graders were rounded up and taken to the gym. They'd not completed all the vaccination necessary for attending public school. Some cried; others cursed their parents; but in the end, every child was protected from the spread of diseases due to those shots.  

Back then, we also had to have a TB test. We’d stand in line in the gym as health department nurses injected something into the backs of our forearms. Most of us feared the shot, but the ones who freaked out tested positive when the shot sites reddened and/or swelled.  

Polio vaccines were the most important back in the day. We all knew children who had been stricken with that disease, and it scared the hell out of us. Of course, we were overjoyed when the shots were replaced with sugar cubes.  

I don’t understand the hesitancy of folks to vaccinate their children. Parents would never allow little ones to play on a busy street, nor would they allow those youngsters to play with guns. However, too many people are now questioning the effectiveness of vaccination. Some declare they do more harm than good. The new Secretary of HHS has called the effectiveness and safety of vaccinations, but he did make sure his children received those protections. I’m not a scientist, nor have I spent time diving into the pool or information about vaccinations. However, I know that for years these shots have protected generations against diseases that kill.  

Yes, Americans have freedom of choice. At the same time, that freedom ends when it upends the freedoms of others from being exposed to dangerous diseases. Sometimes, the public welfare dictates the adherence to health guidelines set by folks who have spent their careers combatting harmful things.  

Let’s hope the measles outbreak makes a quick exit and that no more lives are negatively affected or lost. At the same time, let’s all think of what is best for the entire country in all disagreements. That includes immunizing children from life-threatening diseases.  

BREAKING RULES

 Rules are hard things for some people. They have a tendency to rub them the wrong way. At the same time, something rebellious inside makes us want to test the limits to see how far they can be stretched. Most of the time, such actions lead to bad consequences for individuals, as well as others who are affected by those rules.  

Small children learn to follow rules set at home. I remember some of the worst whippings I received were for daring to flout them. On one occasion, Jim and I crossed Ball Camp Pike to visit the neighbors. Mother was terrified that we’ made such a move, and a switch reinforced the rule to stay in our own yard, at least while she was home.  

A few years later we were back at it. This time we were following the Cheek boys, who were our neighbors. They were much older and prodded us into several act of rule defiance. We traveled behind our house to Boss Road. Once there, we hiked to the top of Baldy, a good-sized hill with its front covered in hay and it top thick with woods. On another occasion, we tried cigarettes, but that didn’t last too long because Daddy caught us and set out your behinds on fire. Other than that, Jim and I followed the rules that had been set for us with only a few more exceptions. 

High school brought changes. Daddy had died the year before, and for some reason, doing forbidden things became a way of life. I used to enjoy lighting cigarettes for Mike Mier, another neighbor, as we walked down the road to the store where the bus picked us up for school. Before long, the senior in high school grew weary of my slobbering all over his smoke. He gave me a cigarette and told me to light my own. With that, my “official days” of smoking began, although I’d smoked some since I was about 6 years old.  

I smoked in the pit at the school, and Mr. Nicely demanded that I have Mother sign a form so that I could obtain a smoking permit. She was not at all happy about having to give her consent to something that she knew was bad for me, but she also knew that I would eventually be suspended from school if I didn’t have the permit.  

It was also during those teenaged years that I broke the rules about drinking alcohol. Cousin Charlie and I spent nearly every weekend together, and we rode from hot spot to hotspot with a case of beer in the trunk. Mind you, I didn’t like the taste of beer, but being cool was just too important to not participate. I only became intoxicated once. It was one night when I was to paint the acoustic tiles on the ceiling at the Burger King, where I worked. I worked on the ladder for a ladder for a short time before the world began to spin. The world began to spin, and the rest of the night I spent on my knees as I threw up my guts and made that infamous promise to God that would never drink again if he just stopped the world from spinning.  

In those days, the law was changed so that 18-year-olds could drink legally. That took most of the appeal out of the activity. The thrill came from breaking the rules, not from the drinking. I think that people who zip down the highway now do so for the same reason. There’s no other reason for taking one’s life in his own hands as he barrels down the interstate at 100 mph. 

These days, I am a rule follower. I especially follow them when I drive. Those who speed or rocket to the front of standing traffic and then try to cut line infuriate me. That seems to believe that their lives are far more important than mine, something I won’t accept. I won’t park in fire lanes, I don’t “do” drugs, and I pay bills on time. I’m wired that way, but some say I’m just a fuddy-duddy. Yes, I am, but rules are made for a reason, and those who break them are acknowledging that they feel superior to the rest of us. That attitude breaks a few rules stated in the “good book.”  

QUIETING A SCRUFFING VOICE

 I flipped through videos on You Tube the other day, and up pops Jimmy Buffet singing with Zac Brown and Mac McAnally. The trio did a fine rendition of “A Pirate at Forty,” one of my favorite songs of Jimmy’s. After shuffling through several other videos, I found one of “The Midnight Special” from 1972. John Denver hosted the show, and a whole bunch of artists from my youth performed. I was 20 that year, and oh how I sometimes miss those days.  

Back in those days, I could carry a tune. After spending three years in high school choir, madrigals, and barbershop quartet, I wasn’t too bad. Most of the time I sang bass, but on some selections, I was moved to the baritone parts. It made little difference to me because all that mattered was the singing. Many of the best times of my youth were spent in those choral groups, and I made life-long friends. Singers took every occasion possible to sit around and break into parts for a handful of songs.  

I kept on singing during my college years. I spent as much time in the music department as I did in the English classrooms. My brothers and their wives and I sang at Dal’s apartment. We even sang at church during a couple of services. One time we sang acapella but started on the wrong note; it was an excruciating time that embarrassed us all.  

Any singing I did after college was confined to the car or shower.  During the last years of my teaching career, my voice began to fade. Some say that my problem with reflux had affected my vocal cords. All I know is that I could talk for a while, but my voice would suddenly cut out. Singing was a thing of the past; I was more concerned with making it through the day just teaching classes.  

A little over a year ago, I agreed to sing in the church choir for the Christmas cantata. I’m still in the group, even though my voice isn’t strong. I began taking lessons from the director, and those sessions helped some, but not enough to make me great.  

Since high school, I’ve wanted to sing in front of people. I was going to major in vocal music in college, but I would have been forced to take advanced French since I’d had two years in high school, even though I struggled to pass those classes. The hard, cold truth is that I don’t have the talent to sing in solos. I can blend in with a choir, but I still hit plenty of “clunkers.” 

At this time in my life, my singing is a bit painful to hear. I’ve recorded some voice lessons and can attest to the fact that I am not close to being entertaining. I cappy with croak more than I sing. I suppose I should be happy to listen to others who have the “chops” for singing or again return to the shower or car for any attempts at carrying a tune. If I make it to heaven when my time here is done, I’m looking up my favorite singers and ask them if I can hum along as they make beautiful music.