Gummy socks.  Gummy drawers. Gummy tee shirts.  Sweaty arm pits.  Oh it’s hard to be a dairy aisle worker on a muggy day.  Lord have mercy.  As you may know, I spend a good part of my work week in the dairy aisle of a local A&P.  It’s kept at a constant 33 degrees.  After eight years of working there, I could literally spend all day in the cooler and not even raise the tiniest of goose pimples.  33 degrees just seems normal.  So, today, with all this heat, sun, and humidity has been a tail whooper for me.  It’s kind of like when I moved from the central mountains of Pennsylvania to the flat lands of inland North Carolina.  That was a situation where I moved from an arctic 20 below zero in winter on a warm day to 105 in the shade on a normal tropical  day in the summer.  I moved down in the winter and the tar heel winter temps of 25 degrees at worst were almost shirt sleeve days for me.  I couldn’t understand what all the complaining was over.  I hardly needed heat in my bungalow.  I remember wondering why the Tar heels walked so slow.  They just told me to wait till summer.  By the way, summer they told me, would arrive in April.   April came soon enough and one morning, I walked out my front door onto the porch to greet the new Southern day.   Holy heck.  Friends, I’m not lying when I tell you that by the time I got from my door to the top step off the porch my clothes were soaked.  By the time I got to the car, I smelled really bad like an old gym sock.   In the car, I think all my sweat dried up and I got this awful headache.  My neighbor Mr. Brown walked by and noticed my head hanging out the car window with my tongue dragging all dry in the sand. ” How yuh doin Doc?  Pretty nice huh?  Hear tell it might get a bit warmer by noon.  Not too bad right now.  Hey, you all right?”   I tried to talk but I think my vocal cords had turned to ashes.  That was the first day of Summer.  It got worse but, after awhile, a fellow, even a Yankee, got  to kind of liking it.


Would have gotten to this blurb sooner but, I was busy saving mayonnaise.  We’re down to the end of a one quart jar here at the house.  I wanted to snag the last little bit of mayo from the jar for my tomato sandwich.  I like my tomato sandwiches on warm toasted white bread.  So, once the toast was done, I got out my butter knife and started scrapping the inside walls of the old mayonnaise jar.  Long story short, it took about four minutes to get enough spread to cover both slices of bread.  The toast got cold and a little crunchy.  I started calculating my actions.  I’m 68 years old and have probably scraped about one almost finished mayonnaise jar every six months.  That’s a close average I’d say.  Mom used to have me scrape the jars when I was a kid so I got started early.  Let’s say I’ve scraped 130 mayo jars in my life time.  That’s enough for about 260 tomato sandwiches.  There’s about 60 servings in a one quart jar, and it’s probably about 2 or 3 sandwiches per serving.  It took four minutes per jar times 130 jars.  That’s (Where’s my calculator?)  520 minutes to salvage 2 jars worth of mayo.  I can’t find my calculator, but, somehow this isn’t adding up.  It looks like I’ve spent around 9 hours of my life scraping mayonnaise jars and I’ve saved about five bucks.   Holy heck.   What was I thinking?


Just heard this story and have to share t with you.  I won’t name names but, you have to hear this.  I got it from a friend and I can’t release the identity.   He and I both know this person.  Bless his heart.  This guy I’m telling you about is a super market manager.  I’ve worked in his store.  He’s a great guy and pretty much very little gets his goat.  Where other managers would be laying on the floor clutching their chest gasping for the paramedics to hurry up, this guy lets whatever it might be NOT get to him.  No ulcers in this cat.  No sireee.  He even, if the situation is the right thing to do, invites the heat from the front office.   To do this, he carries a card.  It’s with him always.  He found it taped one day near the time clock at his store.  I guess some unknown wise guy made it to express his displeasure about being at work.    It was all expressed on the back of an old 3 by 5 inch sale sign.  On one side, it said butter $2.69 per pound.  On the other more important side was a cartoon rendering of the earth with a big crack running through the middle.  Under the cleaved mother planet were scribbled the words….”IT’S NOT A PERFECT WORLD’   The cartoonist came back later to see that his art work was gone from the pegboard and probably figured it would be best to lay low for a while.  Little did the perpetrator know that this manager saw the sign, realized it’s truth smiled, and took it off the wall and carefully folded it to fit in his wallet.  Now, whenever someone comes up to my manager friend with a complaint or a heated demand, he just smiles and gets that card out, unfolds it and holds it in front of the beet red face of his aggressor.  Once they see the card and he has them calmed down a bit, he just says.  “You see  It’s not a perfect world.   All is well.   Now let’s see what we can do to make things a little better.”  Most of the time this works very well for him.  When it doesn’t……well it’s not a perfect world.


I took my brother Ed to a local physical therapy center the other day.  It’s the same one I went to after getting stents put in my heart a decade ago.  They did a great job on me and, it looks like they got Ed’s sore foot on the mend.  People come and go at these places.  It’s sort of like boot camp.  While I was there, one guy was shaking hands with everyone and thanking one and all for all their help.  He was done with his months of visits and exercise routines and, was ready to get  back to normal life.   He was promising to come back and say hello when he could.  He was all smiles as he left for the world.   Then another guy came up to the desk with a whole bunch of forms in his hands.  He was wearing loafers and, was short of breath.  I figured he’d just had a heart procedure.  There were blood thinner bruises on his arms and the back of his hands.  He went into a side room with a trainer for an indoctrination.  Soon, he’d be doing very short and, very light work outs on the different training machines.  It’ll wear him out at first but, he’ll get better at the routines.     Before he knows it, he’ll be chugging along and, the little old ladies will be hollering at him to quit hogging the machines.  Eventually, he’ll be addicted to going on hikes and stuff.  Right now, on his first day, he was all nervous and a bit apprehensive.  He’ll be fine.  Fifty years ago, whatever was wrong with his heart would have probably killed him.  That rehab is a great place.  An assembly line of good habits and good health.


I don’t get it.  But, for some reason bumble bees have me in their sights.  It seems that no matter where I go, there’s a bumble bee taking notes.  You remember the bumble bee that hovered just off my left ear when I was fixing our bungalow roof.  I’d climb the ladder to the eaves and, next thing you know, zzzzzzzz!   He’d be there about six inches off my neck, just watching.  The other day, I was driving down Route 57 next to the river.   Guess who was sitting on my drivers side window post bracing against the wind?  That’s right…zzzzzzz!  I had no way to get off the road and no way to stop.  Moving the window up or down would have shifted the wind direction.  Wind going one way would blow the bee out of the van.  Wind going another way would put him down my tee shirt.  Luckily, the bumble bee jumped for the open air and flew home.   I was walking Millie the other day and what does she do.  She piddles right on a big old bumble bee resting on a dandelion leaf.  That kind of made the bee sore and all that saved Millie was that the bee’s wings were too wet to fly.   Of course Millie wanted to sniff the critter.  Good thing she was on a leash.  Then, yesterday, I was up at the Deleware Watergap with my brother Ed.  Some bicyclists stopped in the parking lot to rest.  They were riding from New York City to San Francisco.  We were all talking when a huge bumble bee flew right past my ear and landed on one of the cyclists tee shirt.  It got stuck in the sweaty fiber somehow.  The bee and the cyclist were both freaking out.  That’s not a good thing.  I told the guy to pull his thin sweaty shirt away from his skin as I pulled the lid off of my coffee cup and carefully scooped the bee away from the shirt.  It wasn’t hurt and flew off in the breeze.  Yet another close call.  I don’t know what’s going on.  Maybe I smell like a hive or something.  People say that bumble bees can pack a real wallop and I’m not ready to find out if they’re right.   Maybe I should wear a fly swatter on my hip.  Keeping my fingers crossed.   Front Porch Show tonight at 5:30 pm.  Enjoy the day and don’t tick off the bees.


I don’t know if this is true or not but, I was slicing a tomato for my morning tomato sandwich back on Saturday.  I noticed that the tomato had like a low flat cone shaped knob on it’s bottom.  My wife sandy was nearby waiting for me to hurry up. We don’t have that much space on our kitchen counter.  My record collection and Sandy’s antique business and her auction finds take up way too much space in the house.  So, pretty much there’s about one square foot of food prep area in the kitchen and I got to it first.  I pointed out the tomato’s bottom to her saying, “Ain’t this an odd shape.  Look!  All the tomatoes you got me are shaped this way”  Without batting an eyelash, Sandy said, “Yeah, that’s cause they’re Jersey tomatoes.  That’s how you tell they’re from Jersey.”  So, I guess Jersey tomatoes have knobby bottoms.  Somehow, it seemed like that’s how it should be.  Sort of like outies instead of innies.  For all my many years I didn’t know that.     Now, later, I was walking the hound down our lane.  Millie was sniffing and piddling as usual.  It’s one of her favorite things to do.  Being a Basset Hound she takes her time on a walk.  Glaciers move faster.  So, I use the time to notice stuff.  (It’s better than yanking on her leash and screaming)  I was checking out the many varieties of poison ivy that line the lane when, all of a sudden it hit me.  There were holes eaten into many of the poison ivy leaves.  Some of the poison ivy was suffering from a beetle infestation.   It’s hard to believe, but somewhere out there on our lane, and maybe your lane, there’s a beetle that can eat poison ivy.  Now that’s some serious evolution.  I get itchy just thinking about it.  What a stomach that critter must have.  If he landed on you and strolled around a bit, you’d get the rash…right?   Heck, now poison ivy flies.  I’m staying inside.  We’re going to need bug spray with added Calomine Lotion now.


Hi friends.  I want to do a Pop Pop  show about encounters with Angels.  I’m certain that I’ve met them at times but, my stories might be getting old by now.  So, I’m asking you, my listeners, if you’ve ever been in a situation where an Angel has somehow made his or her presence known to you.  I’d like to know what you saw and heard and, anything else you can tell me about the encounter.  I’ll be very glad to keep your identity hidden unless you specifically say it’s OK to use your name.  Angels, I think, are proof  that the world is some kind of learning process or training ground.  The more we share about what they have said, the better off we’ll all be.  The many ways they have helped us, may show us how to help each other.  Send what you can to my email address or message me on facebook.  This should make for a great show.


Here’s a few.  First, I woke up breathing.   That’s always a biggie.   At work today, we we’re all treated to a nice pizza party for good effort and plain old sweat.  (Though in the 33 degree dairy section we don’t sweat that much.)  I ate half a pizza and when I got home Sandy noticed that my stomach was as flat as a board.  Millie the hound about a half hour ago came over to my computer desk and laid her head down on my feet and just sighed and then fell softly asleep.  She’s snoring and drooling on my left foot right now.  I got a nice nap earlier today.  Now, I’m ready to do a Front Porch Show at 6:30 or so.   Hope your day was just as nice.


Was talking on the phone just a few minutes ago when I heard happy conversations coming from outside and behind our home.  Couldn’t quite tell who or what it was all about.  The noise was happy and maybe moving slowly and heading my way.  I stayed on the line and walked out to the back deck that overlooks the river behind us.  There was my answer, in the form of a few  teenagers floating downstream in tubes and rubber rafts.  They were dressed in bating suits, eating, snacks, splashing each other and bouncing off of rocks.  They had the right idea for today.  That’s happy scene number one.  Second happy scene goes to Millie the Hound.  Last night she discovered that she could sniff out and eat wild berries in the dark.  Walked her last night and she cleaned us out below the knee cap level.  She’s one happy hound with purple teeth.  Third, place goes to me …Sandy got enough fresh tomatoes at the flea market yesterday that I can now have two tomato sandwiches per day for at least a week.  Yessir….life is good.    Somewhere between 7:30 this evening and 8:00 pm I’ll be starting a nice one hour show for VRadio Nashville featuring great love songs.  That’s bonus hit for four Happy Scenes.