The Man In The Mirror

Yesterday afternoon I had a surprising conversation with someone who was blunt and to the point. Apparently he (and he claims others) find me to be a very negative person.  He used the phrases "back-stabber" and "whiner" among other things.

He refused to identify the "others" who were part of this group with a poor opinion of me, but it doesn't matter.

I know I have a sarcastic personality.  When I'm frustrated I tend to spout off, probably saying some things I shouldn't.  Probably saying things that could be taken the wrong way.

Honestly, I'm at a loss when it comes to the back-stabber reference.  I tend to have a big mouth and tell people face-to-face when I think of them.

I'll take the comments with a grain of salt, considering the source. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't take a look at myself in the mirror.

While I'm not a fan of Michael Jackson, his hit "Man in the Mirror" hit the nail on the head:

I'm Starting With The Man In The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change His Ways
And No Message Could Have Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place
Take A Look At Yourself, And Then Make A Change

Make That Change.

Read all my posts at BareNakedBill.blogspot.com

It's a love-hate thing

I'm in a Love-Hate relationship.  Sometimes it's all about love love love... others it's just hate hate hate. It's been going on for years and I sometimes wonder how I've tolerated it this long.

As Charles Dickens said in A Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

That's how relationships go when one of the people is more than twice the age of the other partner... And before you think I'm come kind of letch, I am the younger of the two.

My love-hate relationship is with my hometown, Pigeon, MI.

It's amazing how the community can come together for someone in need, pitching in to help. We're fortunate to have our own hospital, seven churches of various denominations, several large employers and plenty of civic clubs.

Of course there are many more things to love about our 109 year old town.

But sometimes hate creeps in... like when I need a loaf of bread at 7:59 pm and the grocery has already locked the door -- and placed a bagboy to stand guard.  I also hate that on warm summer night, before it even gets dark, all the restaurants have closed.  I also wish my movie choices were not limited to the two-screen theater 15 miles away.

Someone once asked why I never left.  My family is here and I've always had a good job here.

Another reason to love this town.

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Tuesday Tally: Tips for Servers

I'm going to start by saying that waiting tables is NOT an easy job.  I understand that.

Being a good server (the politically correct term for a waitress), takes a little skill.  Being a GREAT server takes a LOT of skill.

A friend and I used to say we wanted to open a waitress school to teach people how we thought the job should be done.

With that in mind, here are few lessons I would teach:

• Don't call me Hun.  I probably don't know you and if I do, I don't know you well enough for you to use a term of endearment like that.
• Bring the menus with you.  Don't come to my table and ask if I need a menu.  I may not, but your employer would probably appreciate it if you promoted all the items you have to offer.
• Know the menu.  If I ask questions, "I don't know" is not the answer I want to here.  I don't know either. Go ask someone if that what it takes.
• Never assume that the cook won't prepare my meal different than normal. I was once in a nice restaurant and ordered the perch "pan-fried." The waitress told me it was served deep-fried. I asked if she could check with the cook.  She refused.  I ordered a dish of cole slaw.
• Another assumption that shouldn't be made is that two people dining together are a couple. I was out with a friend for dinner when she ordered a bowl of soup.  The waitress turned to me, assuming I was her husband or boyfriend, and said, "She can order more than that, can't she?"  My reply: "Does she look like she needs more than that?"  I'm pretty sure the waitress slipped her the number for a safe house to escape her abusive relationship with me.
• Don't make me ask twice for something I want or need.  I don't care if it's ketchup, more coffee, the side order you forgot... the tip I leave on the table depends on it.
• Don't make me wait for my bill.  When I'm finished, I'm finished.  If you ask if I want anything else and I say no, that's the clue to bring the bill.  If I want to sit there any longer I will.

There's much more.  Maybe one day I will start that school.

Read more at BareNakedBill.blogspot.com

Monday, Monday

Monday, Monday, so good to me
Monday mornin', it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday mornin', Monday mornin' couldn't guarantee
That Monday evenin' you would still be here with me

I don't mind Mondays.  That's probably because I'm really a create of habit. I like my routine.  My sanity remains, in part, because of the consistency of the routine.

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday mornin' you gave me no warnin' of what was to be
Oh Monday, Monday, how could you leave and not take me

Even though I'm a create of habit, Monday usually throws something at me that is completely unexpected. Maybe that's what I don't mind it much... it's a routine with a twist!

Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
A-you can find me cryin' all of the time


Many of us dread the end of a weekend.  I live for the weekend, which is a contradiction to my need for routine.  But my weekends are pretty planned, but not scheduled.  Sometimes when Monday comes, I am sad that weekend is gone.

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day
Monday, Monday, it just turns out that way
Oh Monday, Monday, won't go away
Monday, Monday, it's here to stay
Oh Monday, Monday
Oh Monday, Monday

Monday is Monday.  I can't change that, so I'll face it head on with a smile, looking toward the weekend.

Read more at BareNakedBill.blogspot.com

Goodbye Art

"The past actually happened. History is what someone took the time to write down."   -A. Whitney Brown

I think I've always had an interest in history.  Years ago, in my personal history, my high school American History teacher, Tim Anthes, made history come alive for me.  It was one of my favorite classes.

In 2003, our little community celebrated it's centennial with a large festival. I chaired a committee devoted to publishing a nearly 400 page historical account of the families and businesses in Pigeon. My involvement was from a graphic design side for this event fundraiser.

It was a thrill reading the historical accounts of so many families as I worked on the page layouts. It added to my knowledge of our community's foundation.

Art Woelke

But my local historical knowledge is pale in comparison to that of Arthur J. Woelke.

Art, as he is known to everyone, has roots very deep in Pigeon.  He was born here at the family home in Pigeon, December 4, 1927. I think the only time he lived away from Pigeon was when he attended Capital University in Columbus, Ohio.

He spent a lifetime in healthcare administration, but he had a love for history.  The Pigeon Historical Depot Museum is filled with volumes of three-ring binders loaded with page after page of hand-typed accounts of events, families, businesses and building. There are hundreds of photographs of houses and other buildings with notations to the locations and occupants.

I cannot image the hours of time spent on this collection.  It's impossible to put a value on the information he amassed. I don't want to think about the information still in his head.

Today we say goodbye to Art.  He died peacefully this past Tuesday.

As a charter member of the Pigeon Historical Society, Art was honored by the Historical Society of Michigan with an Award of Merit for his extensive collection of local historical documents, photographs, newspaper articles and artifacts now on display at the Pigeon Historical Museum.

He took the took the Historical Society's mission to preserve history very seriously.

We are all blessed to have known Art and to have called him friend. His life is now history.

"Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it."
-- Oscar Wilde

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My Socks Suck

For about the past year, I have been on a quest to find the perfect pair of socks.

I so often find the socks I buy either stretch out and slide down around my ankles or they're so snug that I lose circulation.

I'm a little weird about my socks. No, I'm a LOT weird about my socks.

I prefer something with a little weight to them yet not super heavy. They should be made of cotton or at a minimum a cotton blend.  I prefer something in a crew length rather than those that come up to my knee. I'm not crazy about argyle or any other pattern, just your basic solid color will do. The basic black, navy, and brown is the best.

It's nearly impossible to buy a single pair of socks. At least where I shop. They're usually packed three-pairs together with two of the same (great) color and one color I'll never wear.

A few weeks ago I thought I found the perfect socks.  They felt right to the touch and came in a three pack of all black. I wore them for the last three days. I have an ring around my lower calf from the elastic and my foot felt like it was in a cast.

Perhaps I need to take up knitting my own socks? Until then, I'll keep searching for the perfect socks.

Then I can move onto finding non-strangulating underwear.

BareNakedBill.blogspot.com is where you can find all kind of goofy blog posting just like this one.

Happy Birthday Chuck!

Chuck with two of his daughters, Julie and Gina.

Today is a special day.  It's my brother Chuck's sixtieth birthday.

It's special because, honestly, I had serious doubts he would make this to this birthday.

I don't think I told anyone that before.

See last fall, he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. I've never spoken to him about it, so I'm not sure if he fully understands how serious his condition was at that time.  He spent three days with a ventilator breathing for him.

I generally keep my cool with this kind of stuff. I've been around it enough to understand what's going on and how to deal with it. With him, I was scared shitless.

But that was then, and now is now. He's much healthier and his condition has improved greatly. He's lost 70 or 80 lbs, mostly fluid where it shouldn't be, and he's taking better care of himself.

So this birthday is special for him, for his family, for everyone who loves him.

Happy Birthday Chuck!  Hopefully there will be many more.

BareNakedBill.blogspot.com