Granny's Song

Music is often a significant component of my family get-togethers, as a look at some of the photos in my Flickr account will tell you. My Pops plays fiddle and there are also guitar, piano, and harmonica players among us. (I have nothing about which to brag in this regard, as I've never attempted to develop any musical talents.) A recent family get-together was no exception and included a song that's becoming a standard at such events, Granny's Song by Sheila Kay Adams, a North Carolina story-teller and folk musician. I have reproduced here the lyrics with their author's permission to do so. Believe me; there are few dry eyes by the final chords of this song! :J

Granny's Song

In my mind I see her there,
on the porch sitting in her chair,
with her arms thrown wide to welcome me,
as I walked up the road past her cherry tree.

And with blue-veined hands she taught me how
to plant new corn, milk the cow
and she taught me songs of ancient lore
about kings and queens and love and war.

Chorus:
So Granny get your stick and come walk with me
we'll go digging ginseng in our dreams.
And we'll climb the hillsides over home
as we close our eyes and set our thoughts to roam.
And my heart, my soul, my spirit flies
as I walk with Granny one more time.

"Granny loves you," she says to me,
and "the very best of life is free"
as we rolled our britches to our knees
to wade in the stream beneath the buckeye trees.

And what priceless gifts she gave to me;
the love, the songs, were all for free.
The thoughts I carry in my heart
she helped to plant there from the start.

Repeat Chorus

Well, she reached back down through all those years
and touched my heart and calmed my fears.
She is my Granny and my best friend;
my love for her will never end.

And she takes my little ones on her knee.
She tells them tales she once told me.
With a gentle touch she wipes their brow
as she says, "come walk with Granny now."

Repeat Chorus

Tough Neighbourhood

A conversation this past weekend reminded me in a totally random way of something that happened in my neighbourhood last autumn (2005).

I returned home one evening to find my neighbour's van parked in front of my house, which seemed odd. As I neared the van, I noticed that it appeared to have been hit by another car, so I knocked on my neighbour's door (I'll call her Suraia.) to tell her. Suraia and her husband came out and confirmed that they were aware of the accident and that they were at home when it happened, then they told me the whole tale.

Suraia and her husband were at home, minding their own business, when they heard a great thud and crash in front of their house that drew them outside. They came out to find that a large car had crashed into the back of their van as it was parked on the street in front of their house, pushing it 50 feet (15 metres) or so in front of my house. Mind you, Suraia lives in the second house on the street, so the driver of the car that hit her van somehow built up enough speed in the 160 feet (50 metres) after he rounded the corner to knock her van this distance. Further inspection revealed that the impact had dislodged the drinks holder from its slot in the dash and jettisoned it into the back seat!

Not only had the van been hit with such force and pushed this distance, but also the offending vehicle was locked to the van by its bumper and the driver had the car in reverse, trying to dislodge himself. Suraia's husband ran into the street to stop the driver, but he escaped, though not before Suraia noted his plate number.

Several minutes later, Suraia had called the police and was sharing her outrage with another neighbour, when a twenty-something approached her in a large SUV. He said that he'd seen the accident, had pursued the offending driver, and had noted his plate number. Suraia was glad for this witness to come forward and she asked him to stay and make a statement to the police. He declined to speak to the police and said that he'd tell only her the plate number for $50! This outraged her further and brought out the Bronx in her, so she told the witness to be gone in the probably the least diplomatic way possible.

As the witness drove away, Suraia noted his plate number and handed it over to the police when they arrived. The police confirmed that they'd caught up with the driver that crashed into her van at an adult establishment on a nearby thoroughfare and had already taken him into custody. The witness' offer to sell the offending driver's plate number to Suraia was news to the police, but they recounted to Suraia how the witness had already extorted $30 from the driver to NOT reveal his plate number!

This tale has a mostly happy ending, as the police were presumably able to catch and prosecute both the driver and the extorting witness. Suraia's van was repaired, though it's not quite the same, and she and her husband enjoyed driving a rented Lexus during the month that their van was in the repair shop.

I'll wrap up this entry by sharing a few interesting side-notes to this story. First, A friend from out-of-state was visiting me the week before the accident with Suraia's van and had parked his expensive, European sedan in the street in front of my house, directly in what was to be the line of fire. More recently, a womon fleeing the police rounded the corner at the opposite end of my street and crashed into another neighbour's car, pushing it into their front yard and slightly damaging their carport; that was the twelfth car that those neighbours had had damaged while parked in front of their house; the police suspect that she crashed in order to effect her escape on foot and it worked because they didn't catch her! Since these two incidents, I've noticed the police aggressively stopping and ticketing drivers on my street. Ah, life in a city. :J

Customer Disservice

Following is an e-mail message that I sent to some friends just after Christmas 2005, chronicling a misadventure at one of my favourite restaurants, Captain D's (admittedly, a guilty pleasure). The nearest Captain D's is a 45-60 minute drive from my house, so I seized the opportunity to drop in as I was passing it on the way home from an out-of-town trip on which my dog, Pepper, had accompanied me. Enjoy! :J

From : Justin
Sent : Monday, 26 December 2005, 22:36
Subject : Captain D's

So, here's my adventure in customer disservice.

I had parked the car; walked, fed, and watered Pepper; and used the bathroom myself when I stepped up to place my order. There was a very large and round fellow (I'll call him "Tiny".) taking drive-through orders and dressed a bit manager-ish and a fellow with long braids, cooking (I'll call him "Rasta".). A skinny, middle-aged guy in a satin jacket was taking walk-up orders; the name on my receipt is "George" and is printed next to the time of my order, 11:45 AM, above the amount of my purchase, $8.50. The restaurant wasn't busy the whole time that I was there; there was never more than one coherent group of customers waiting to place an order.

George took my order and told me my total, then was distracted by another customer who walked up, plate in hand, to report that his fish was a bit over-done. "Over-done?" I thought, "where does he think he is, Bert's!?" [Bert's is an awesome seafood restaurant in Greensboro.] So, George took the guy's fish into the kitchen and handed it to Rasta, who shook his head with a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and ennui that seemed to ask the world in general "why couldn't McDonald's have called me back first?"

George reappeared and reassured the other customer, THEN turned to take my money and make change. He said that it'd be a moment because the crab had to cook for 4 minutes, so he'd call my number if I wanted to go ahead and take a seat. I slid into a booth near the earlier complainant and his family, which happened to be next to a window from which I could watch Pepper and my car.

I sipped satisfiedly on my tea for five minutes or so, anticipating the taste sensation that awaited me. I sipped for five more minutes. Pepper was sitting erect in the back seat, looking toward the door of the restaurant. Five minutes more passed. The complainant, who had since received his recooked fish, looked in my direction and said, "you'd better go and check on your order; I think they forgot you." I nodded and mumbled a casual agreement and proceeded to the counter.

George greeted me as cheerfully as before, "Welcome to Captain D's! Can I take your order?"

"I'd like to check on my order... number 9."

"Order number 9!" George exclaimed happily as he spun to check the order-up ledge, the order wheels, and, finally, a stick file on the counter below, out-of-sight of the kitchen. "Oh, shoot," he whispered. He took a slip of paper from the spindle and shoved it under one of the springs of the order wheel, which he then turned to face the kitchen. He leaned in and looked into the kitchen. Rasta was nowhere to be found, so George made his way into the kitchen himself. I saw him open a refrigerator and throw some things into a fry basket. Tiny and Rasta then came through the front door of the restaurant, presumably returning from a break. George and Rasta exchanged some words; Tiny seemed unconcerned and resumed leisurely filling drive-through orders.

Taking all of this in, my eye casually landed on a stack of laminated, pink slips of paper that said "If an order has been waiting more than four minutes, place this card behind it on the wheel. LATE." I decided to stand and wait at the counter instead of returning to my seat.

Rasta caught my eye from the kitchen and assured me that my order would be ready without haste. I nodded.

George returned from the kitchen and said that my order wouldn't be another moment. I thanked him.

At about this time, a short fellow with a sparse moustache, dingy high-top trainers, a mullet, and a trucker's cap walked in -- very much a north-eastern Guilford redneck. I noticed that his threadbare jeans fit his behind quite well, so I'll call him Levi. I thought that he looked like the sort that would typically eat at Captain D's, until I realised my own purpose for being in the restaurant. George offered to take Levi's order; Levi said that he'd like an application. This half-way flustered George, perhaps because he couldn't find "application" on his cash register menu keypad. He looked under the counter, then went into the kitchen for a moment. He returned to report that the person who accepted applications wasn't in today, so Levi would have to return later. Levi left, looking dejected.

Rasta caught my eye from the kitchen and said "two seconds!" I nodded.

George briefly turned to Rasta, then turned to look at me and said, "two minutes, sir." I thanked him.

"It'll be fresh!" exclaimed Rasta.

Somewhere between two seconds and two minutes later, George presented me with my tray and wished me a good meal. Rasta waved at me from the kitchen.

I returned to my seat and ate. The complainant and his family commented on how long I'd had to wait and asked me if the manager had comped my meal. "You shoulda got that for free!" I replied that he'd not; there were tisks all around.

The fish was plenty hot and the shrimp were tasty enough. I noticed that the deviled crab was made with artificial krab and stuffed into a real shell. The fries, though not cold, were well on their way cooling off. I finished eating and hurried out of the restaurant, but not before I got big smiles, waves, and farewells from George and Rasta. "Hurry back!"

After all my anticipation, the whole experience was very disappointing. The next time that I crave such a meal, I'll stick to Long John Silver's, which is actually located in my same city.

Happenings Update

Things have been chugging along well enough lately. Things are going well between Chris and me in our budding relationship; Jeff and I are getting along well; the finances are holding steady (knock, knock); and though work is still a stressor, that's even taken a turn for the better!

Chris and I have rather gotten into bowling. Since he and I have been dating, we've gone bowling on more occasions than I ever did in my entire life before. I bought a pair of bowling shoes and there's talk of joining a league in the fall, so I suppose that I'm officially a bowler now! It's fun and rather like writing application code -- you examine the problem, determine a suitable solution, set up everything (your code or your throw), see where the pins fall, and try again.

Speaking of writing code, I recently received some very good news at work. My manager was exploring an opportunity to make a career move back to his hometown in another state; all of my colleagues (not just those in my department) were concerned about how this would affect our organisation in general and my department in particular. My department is a great team; we work well together; and we enjoy an innovative environment -- all important factors for an IT shop that has as diverse an array of responsibilities as we (Web site management, applications development, hardware and software deployment and support, server management, vendor relations, user account and permissions management, data integrity, reports management, etc). Many of us in the department were making contingency plans in case of our manager's departure and many others in the organisation were freaking out about the possibility of losing their in-house support and development. We'd been on these pins and needles for about four months when our manager called us together earlier this week to announce that he'd reached an agreement to stay! Yay! This has been one of the top two stressors in my life this year, so I'm very glad to have it resolved in the best possible way.

An on-line friend from Iowa (Fredrick) will be in town next week, visiting another of his on-line friends. I've invited them to dinner at my house on next Saturday (20 May), so I have a menu to plan, groceries to buy, a house to clean, and food to cook. I'm quite looking forward to this, as it'll be the first time that I'll have met Fredrick, as well as the first dinner party that I'll throw basically on my own. I do enjoy entertaining and I've been told that I'm a pretty good cook. My ex and I made a good team in this respect; several guests at a bridal shower that we attended recently asked us if we were caterers. I'll be interested to see how well I do on my own.

There are many changes still ahead, but I think that I'm holding my own for now and maybe even making a bit of progress. :J