Miracle on Aisle 10

It was a busy morning at Walmart. Christmas is coming and old people are shopping, a week before Christmas.  I am busily dragging my rattling old bones up and down the grocery aisle looking for candied pineapple for Miss Sheila's take on my Honeymama's fruitcake. I have described my grandmother's fruitcake in detail and posted the recipe.

Honeymom's fruitcake is unique in that it doesn't use citron, that pungent, sharp tasting heaven only knows what kind of fruit it originally was. It's a mild, gently flavored, dense fruitcake and every time Sheila makes one for someone, she has to add another fruitcake to the annual batch. Her brother-in-law told her he'd buy the ingredients if she'd make him a fruitcake for his birthday.One thing it does use is candied pineapple. Now I had ordered all the ingredients well ahead of time through Amazon.com.  But I was short on the pineapple, so I tried to find some at Walmart.

To my horror there was nothing on the shelves at Walmart in the way of fruitcake ingredients. I tried two Walmart employees and they couldn't help either. Finally, I tracked down a manager who told me that this particular Walmart had stopped carrying fruitcake fruit because it didn't sell well enough. "But," she said, following me out of the checkout line where she was running a register like the managers often do when it gets busy, "I'm really not supposed to do this, but try down at WinCo. They carry everything."  She looked around then whispered conspiratorially, "I shop down there a lot myself."

It was like Macy's Santa recommending a customer go shop at Gimbel's in the old movie "Miracle on 34th Street".   I've been a great defender of Walmart in the past because they do make my life easier and more affordable. I do, however, recognize the limitations of a big box store like Wally World and in those limitations lies opportunity for local mom and pop stores to fill in the gaps. They have lower overhead and with a little advertising they can make themselves available to customers by stocking things Walmart doesn't.

I was glad to see a Walmart manager willing to violate company policy to help a customer. Restored my faith in Walmart. They don't do everything, but if you're smart you can figure out how to best use Walmart to your advantage and there really are some lovely people who work there.

© 2019 by Tom King

 

Note to the Feds: Don't Mess With My Owls!

SEATTLE, WA — Students and staff at the University of Washington were surprised early Friday morning to find a tiny, gray barred owl sitting dazed and confused on the sidewalk near the Suzzallo and Allen Libraries. As academics will their first instinct was to summon someone in authority. Someone quickly phoned the UW Environmental Health and Safety department and next thing you know a helpful staffer had strung up enough yellow "caution" tape around the owl to clear a murder scene. Then, they erected some traffic cones for good measure. In addition to all that caution tape, EHS also put up a sign insisting passerbys not bother the owl.

By 11 a.m., a wildlife biologist from the U.S. Department of Agriculture was on scene to scoop the little owl up and tucked it in a red box . The owl was delivered to the PAWS shelter in Lynnwood, where the vet found the little fellow bruised but in fair shape. It was decide that he had likely flown into a window and stunned himself. It was demonstrative of the university's befuddlement over the whole thing (and just this side of miraculous) that the university agreed to use "he" as the owl's pronoun of choice.

The interesting bit of the report was that though this little owl lives here, it is not native to the Northeast. Barred owls appear to have migrated here only recently, probably having heard that spotted owls were dying out. The feds are in such a dither about the threat to spotted owls, having spent so many millions in programs to protect spotted owls, that in 2013, the federal government came up with a plan to hire hunters to kill barred owls in the Pacific Northwest to protect northern spotted owls. Apparently barred owls are hogging all the good hunting grounds.

We have a pair of barred owls that have made our 15 acre wood their personal hunting ground. It's a good spot. My neighbor, Dan, feeds the squirrels, swelling the population hereabouts. My landlady live traps the squirrels when they come over and attempt to settle in her attic - banishing them to the woods around the nearby Army base. Between the two of them they've achieved a kind of ecological balance - until the barred owls moved in. They probably ran off a couple of spotted owls if the Audubon Society is to be believed.

Since they moved in, the owls have reduced my landlady's squirrel relocation tally significantly and thinned the crowd around Dan's feeder. Dan's squirrel feed lot is located just below our bedroom window and the owls often sit on a nearby tree branch trying to decide which of the 10 to 15 squirrels circling the squirrel feeder at all times look the fattest. They sing owlish love songs outside of our bedroom window in the spring. During holiday weekends when Washingtonians engage in their traditional home fireworks extravaganza, Lucy the dog hides upstairs and the owls come sit very close to the house to ride out the whole neighborhood barrage. We love our owls.

The spotted owls seem insistent on becoming extinct despite the government having spent several fortunes defending them. Species come and species go seems to be the rule. It's the way of nature. I may not buy the whole Darwinian evolution deal, but there's some truth to the survival of the fittest model. Perhaps spotted owls are just a puny species whose time has come.  Besides! Like I said, I like our barred owls. I can even get them to hoot back at me by imitating their typical "who cooks for you" call. I've grown quite fond of the pair of them, even when they insist on singing love songs outside my window at 1 AM. Still the owls have become part of the ecosystem family around here. They are hard workers and without out them who would pick off the giant ship rats that get off the ships in Puget Sound and move inland. 

I'm rather a pacifist by nature, but if the feds send hired guns after my owls, I just may have to exercise my 2nd amendment rights to defend my homies.

I thought the leftists in the federal government liked illegal immigrants! Apparently, however, they don't mind exhibiting their blatant prejudice against the barred owl race. These undocumented immigrants to the Pacific Northwest are being oppressed by the Federales.  The Forest Service (ICE to the animal kingdom) are talking about hiring gunmen to stalk and kill these innocent refugees from the violence and oppression of the Northeast states, seeking freedom and sanctuary in Oregon, Idaho and Washington State.

Therefore, taking my cue from members of the Democrat party, I have declared our little patch of wooded wetlands a sanctuary city for undocumented barred owls.

Just be warned! I'm from Texas and I'll be armed.

© 2019 by Tom King

Having Lots of Stories

I come from a storytelling people. My Irish ancestors steal stories from every culture on Earth and make them their own. My Cherokee ancestors told stories around the campfire on long nights. My Scots, British, German, Scandanavian and Jewish forebears told their own stories and told them quite well if you check out any decent library. 

Not everyone likes my storytelling, however. Storytelling is a gift that can be powerful, especially in an argument.

A friend of mine once complained that whenever we argue, I've always got a story that proves I'm right. The implication is, of course, that I make these stories up to prove my point.

Not so!  By the time you get to be as old as me, you've collected thousands of such stories. They shape how you think and what you believe. We call that experience. It's the best way I know to discover the truth.

If you've managed to do things in your life, if you've stepped out of your comfort zone regularly, if you've heard God's still small voice and said, "Here am I, send me," then you probably have a lot more interesting and illustrative stories than most folk.

© 2019 by Tom King

Truth, Lie and the Observant Farmer

I saw a meme the other day that told the old story of the time Lie dressed itself up as Truth. Of course, it had been transmogrified into a parable about how wicked Donald Trump is by someone I've seen post the most outrageous balderdash to defend his progressive vision of the future.

In the version I heard many moons ago, the story went something like this.
Lie Steals Truth's Clothes:

One hot summer day, Truth was walking in the woods and came upon a pond. Truth being overly warm, decided she'd take a little swim. She hung her clothes on a nearby bush and plunged into the water. Meanwhile, not far away Lie was lurking as he always does, looking for a way to deceive. He heard Truth splashing around in the pond and went to check it out. When he saw Truth's clothes hanging on the bush, a wicked, naughty, evil plan just popped into his nasty little mind.

He would steal Truth's clothes! Then he could tell all the lies he wanted, but because he would be dressed up as Truth, people would believe him. Quick as a flash he grabbed Truth's clothes, slipped them on over his own and ran for it. Truth saw him just then and despite her lack of clothing, she set off in hot pursuit, for Truth knew what sort of trouble Lie could cause running around dressed as herself.

Lie Tells Some Whoppers:

As Lie quickly put some distance between himself and his angry, wet, naked pursuer, he met a man coming down the road. "I might as well try out Truth's clothes and see how they work," he decided.

Lie went up to the stranger and told the man a pretty good lie. The stranger said, "You know that must be the truth because he is wearing Truth's clothes."

Smirking at his own cleverness, Lie went further down the road, where he soon met a second man. "Hello, sir," said Lie and proceeded to tell a big fat lie this time. 

The second man scratched his chin and said, "You know that sounds like a lie to me, but he's wearing Truth's clothes so it must be the truth."

Lie Employs Statistics:

By this time Truth was gaining on Lie and was just minutes behind. Lie, unaware of this, spots a third man, an old farmer, approaching. "This time I'll try a real doozy," he thought and proceeded to tell a lie so incredible that he might not have got away with it at first, but he used a lot of phony statistics and fake stories to make the lie sound even better and the farmer looked for a moment as though he'd bought Lie's story.

"You know," said the third man. scratching his head. "That story you just told there Sonny, sounds like a great big whopper of a lie." Then he looks off down the road and turns back to Lie. "But just because it sounds like Truth, don't make it Truth. You may look like Truth, fella. You may sound like Truth. You may even wear Truth's clothes, but mister, you ain't Truth." He points back along the way that Lie had come.

"You certainly ain't Truth, mister Lie," the farmer shook his head, "No sir, because yonder comes the nekkid Truth!"

At least that's the way I heard it.

© 2019 by Tom King