Intersections, part two

You might remember Mike, the inmate who worked for me for a few years. If you want to refresh your memory, the story of why Mike found himself in prison can be found here. Day to day fun with Mike can be found in several places such as here and here.

Mike served out his sentence a little over a year ago. I expected to hear from him in the first few months but I never did. In the mean time, I've changed jobs and really haven't thought much about him.

A few weeks ago in the late afternoon there was a knock on the door. Who should be standing there but Mike. Mike went through some effort to find me, too. He didn't have a phone number. In the phone book there is another person with the same name as me while I'm only listed under my wife's name. He called my namesake but of course that wasn't me. So the phone book was a dead end. Having a general idea where my house was, Mike went door to door asking for me until he found my house. We shook hands while I inquired what he had been doing with himself.

Mike spent a the first few months working for his dad on a boilermaker crew, mostly in Texas. The money was very good but he was living out of a motel room and his coworkers went out drinking and partying every night. Mike said that life just wasn't for him. He came back to the area and got a job as an operator at a water plant in a town near here. So all the time training him and helping him study for his water plant licenses wasn't a waste of time after all.

The reason Mike went to all the trouble to find me is the town that he works for needs a superintendent for their water and wastewater plants. He knew I was no longer at the penitentiary and wondered if I'd be interested in the job. He recommended me to the City Manager. I interviewed for the job and it went very well. The City Manager told me during the interview that Mike had told him that he guaranteed I would do a good job for them. Mike told him that if he hired me and wasn't happy with me, the City manager could fire us both. City jobs like that are very political though so I'm not holding my breath. I'm OK doing what I'm doing right now. I actually like it in a prideful "throw everything you got at me, I can take it" sort of way. If the new job eventually comes through that would be great though. If not, that's cool, too.

I was really touched that Mike thought of me. He said he was in a position where he might be able to help me and it was the least he could do for all the help I'd given him. I must have been a pretty good boss if he wants me to be his boss again.

Intersections, part one

I've been hearing about Eddie for a year and half now. Eddie is my wife, CK's line supervisor where she works. Invariably Eddie comes up in daily conversations about her day (night, actually) at work. CK never has had anything bad to say about Eddie. According to her, Eddie is fun and a fair supervisor. Of course she never has much bad to say about anybody.

Until recently, I hadn't met Eddie. I pictured him as a man about my age, about my size. I often forget how old I am. I met Eddie while CK and I were shopping at WallyWorld not long ago. He walked up and spoke to CK. She introduced us. First, I noticed how young he looked. Later, I was able to piece together his probable age. He is in his early thirties, give or take, but he's small in stature and baby-faced. He could pass for late teens, early twenties. While shaking his hand another thought occurred to me. I know this man from somewhere. I could see by the look on his face that the same thought was going through his mind.

Eddie said, "CK talks about her husband, Tom, but I never made the connection. Do you remember me?"

Still trying to piece the puzzle together I said, "I know I should know you. You look very familiar."

"You were my Youth Minister." He mentioned the church where I had served in another life. It clicked. It clicked into place. Eddie and a brother and a sister lived with their mother in a small house near the church. Their mother worked long hours and the kids were often alone. I visited with them and soon Eddie was one of the most faithful members of the youth group. I was quite attached to young Eddie. His family was poor and were unable to pay Eddie's way on most of the trips and activities of our group. When I couldn't get the church to pay, I paid his way myself. Of course he never knew that, nor did his mom.

That night at work, Eddie talked to CK for a long time. He told her how much I had helped him when he really needed stability and direction. He had never forgot me and wondered what had become of me. Now we've been reacquainted and Eddie has started attending at my current church.

I've often thought of myself as more of a bad example than a positive influence. It came as quite a heartwarming surprise to find out that I had a positive, lasting influence on the young man. One never knows, I guess, what happens when lives intersect.

To the tune of "Happy Birthday"

Happy Birthday to me.
I'm a blogger absentee.
I have thngs to write
Soon as I get time free.

Love Y'all...

Just a Conversation

I sat in the breakroom by myself at 4am reading, enjoying my oh so generous 20 minute unpaid lunch, when in walked Amber and Lisa. I looked up and smiled at them and then returned to my book. Recently clean-shaven, I wore a new Boston Red Sox cap I bought. I felt eyes on me and I raised my head to see Amber, a 20 year old attractive young lady intently looking at me. She said, "You know Tom, you look like somebody."

"Cool," I said. "I always wanted to be somebody."

"No. I mean you look like somebody famous. Somebody on TV or in the movies. Somebody like that."

"Probably Tom Selleck. I get that a lot," I teased.

"Tom Selleck? Who's that?"

Lisa, a woman about my age, sized me up and said, "If you grew a mustache...maybe." Then to Amber she said, "You know Tom Selleck. He did those Westerns with Sam Elliot."

It didn't ring a bell with Amber. "Who's Sam Elliot?"

In my best Sam Elliot voice I quoted the commercial featuring his voice, "Beef. It's what's for dinner."

Amber looked oblivious.

Lisa said, "He can bring the beef to my house anytime. His voice is soooo sexy."

Lisa took her lunch and went outside to eat at one of the picnic tables. Amber lingered a moment longer still looking at me, still looking puzzled; a look given to me by women of all ages more often than I'd like to admit. Finally she said, "Really. Who is Tom...what was his name?"

"Tom Selleck. Generally considered to be a good-looking man by women...uh, at least women older than you. Does Magnum P.I. ring a bell?"

"What's that?"

"Oh, never mind. If you think of who I remind you of, let me know."

She joined Lisa outside. I was left feeling very, very old. I bet it was Steve Buscemi she was thinking of.

-----------

I took some flak for my last posting. I didn't exhibit the proper grandfatherly attitude. Seriously, I didn't really make the "Yoda with hair" comment. I was fibbing to make a joke. I've been known to do that. If I'd really made that comment, the consequences would have been severe. To show that I do have the proper grandfatherly attitude, I'll show you a picture from my virtual wallet. Isn't she the most beautiful girl in the world? And smart, too. She can already recite the alphabet and dabbles in differential calculus.

Changes

Whoowee! It's been a busy and hectic couple of weeks. First of all, I got a new job at the plasticine factory. The new job is still busy but not as boring and I get to move around. The best thing is it is not running a press. With the new job I had to go to day shift for a week which was good but of course my internal clock is in permanent malfunction mode. I go back to the vampire shift tonight.

On Friday, BF became a grandpa for the first time. Whitleigh Cadence ________ weighed in at 7 lbs. 9 oz. and is 18 3/4 inches long. She has thick dark brown hair, much more than her dear old granddad. She hardly resembles E.T. at all. I went to the hospital after work Friday and got to hold her. Somebody in the room asked, "BF, who do you think she looks like?" I thoughtfully looked at Whitleigh sleeping peacefully in my arms. Then I looked at her mother, the Princess. I stared back at Whitleigh for awhile then looked at her father, BD. Finally I looked up and answered, "Yoda with hair." I was nearly run out of the room.

Miscellany

Although my attitude about my new job at the plasticine company ranges somewhere on the scale, depending on the day, between grudging acceptance, reluctant acquiescence, and veiled hostility, apparently I am doing a great job. We are divided into teams or groups. My normal group leader, Kathy, has gained confidence in my abilities. She feels free to assign me to all the harder and faster machines because she knows I can keep up. Most of the other operators in our group are either slower, lazier, and perhaps smarter than I, so they tend to get the easier slower machines.

Due to call-ins, I have on occasion worked for another group leader, Gretchen. Gretchen has went to the big boss to try and get me permanently assigned to her group. Kathy wasn't having any of that and went to the big boss to fight for me. I went into the break room yesterday and Kathy and Gretchen were sitting at the same table talking. When Gretchen saw me she said, "Hi, BF. I've been trying to get you assigned to my group but somebody is standing in the way." She nodded her head toward Kathy.

Kathy said, "That's right. I'm keeping you."

I smiled at both of them and said, "I love it when women fight over me."


Changing the subject. I've told you about my dog, Precious. How she sleeps all night while we're at work then sleeps all day with us. Now Precious has decided that she knows better than I do when I need to get up. When she feels that I've slept long enough she starts walking on me, nudging me with her nose, and licking my face. So I grouchily get up and go sit on the couch. Precious promptly jumps into my lap and goes to sleep. I find this irksome.


I can't remember if I've told this story before but since I'm old and senile I'm going to tell it anyway. CK and I took my step-daughter, the Princess, and her boyfriend out to dinner. (Additionally, the boyfriend can now be referred to as the baby daddy (BD). The Princess is due to make BF a grandpa sometime this month. It has been decided by someone or someone's other than me that I will be called "Pappy.") Anyway, back to the dinner. I don't want to say that BD is a sheltered mamma's boy. I'll let you decide. So we're at the steakhouse and the waitress is taking our order. When the waitress gets to BD, BD orders a steak, baked potato, and salad. The waitress asks BD how he would like his steak cooked. BD looks at the waitress, puzzled, then finally says, "Uh...in a skillet, I guess. That's how momma cooks 'em."


There aren't too many things in this world that can't be fixed or endured.
---The Meaning of Life and Other Attrocities--

TP

Probably the most useful and versatile item for the average inmate is toilet paper. Besides its more mundane uses as butt-wiper and nose-juice receptacle, innovative inmates take advantage of its abundance (every inmate at my former institution is issued two rolls of toilet paper per week) and find numerous creative ways to put it to use.

In a formula unknown to me, inmates are able to combine toilet paper, toothpaste, water and possibly other ingredients to make what I call penitentiary papier-mache. While soft and moldable when wet, the conglomeration dries rock hard. One inmate made a full-size Kentucky Wildcat out of the stuff then painted it with dilutions of coffee. I've seen fairly elaborate chess sets made out of the same mixture. For those inmates not inclined to arts and crafts, the same substance makes a dandy knife handle. I've seen more than one made with custom finger grips. While I write this I'm wondering why I've never seen someone make a fake gun out of the stuff.

Most county jails are now smoke-free facilities. Of course this doesn't stop the inmates from smoking. It just means cigarettes are harder to come by; and expensive. At the smoke-free institutions, matches are as rare and expensive as the tobacco. So another use for toilet paper was invented: fire-starter. All that is needed is some toilet paper and a pencil. One end of a square of toilet paper is torn into thin strips and the lead from the pencil is removed by any means available. A piece of the pencil lead about and inch long is inserted into one side of an electric outlet. Another similar piece is inserted into the other side of the outlet. Then a third piece is arced across the other two, creating a spark, which is caught on the shredded toilet paper, creating a small fire. A tightly rolled piece of toilet paper is then lit from the first piece and Voila! the inmate can light his contraband cigarette. When tobacco is scarce, dried spinach or dried greens of any kind can be rolled in, you guessed it, toilet paper and smoked.

At my former institution inmates were allowed to have quart-sized electric "Hot Pots" for heating water for coffee, tea, etc. Some used them to heat up cans of soup, ravioli and other foodstuffs available for sale at the inmate canteen. One inmate even tried frying up a hamburger stolen from the kitchen on the bottom of his "Hot Pot." At a large regional jail in the area, all of the "Hot Pots" were confiscated after one inmate emptied a couple jars of Vaseline in his "Hot Pot" and threw the boiling oil on a passing officer with which he had had an earlier disagreement. The inmates at that institution had to figure out a way to heat up water for their coffee. Once again, toilet paper came to the rescue.

Take some toilet paper and wrap it around your hand about twenty times, give or take. Take that toilet paper and fold and roll in the edges until you end up with a tight "donut" of toilet paper about three inches in diameter, an inch tall, and about 3/4 of an inch thick. The inmates would then set the "donut" on the rim of their stainless steel toilet and light the donut on fire. Depending on how tightly the "donut" is made, it could burn for 15 to 20 minutes and heat up to four soda cans full of water. Amazingly, the toilet paper "donut" burns virtually smoke free until it is put out. If "the man" comes around, the inmate could just sweep the burning "donut" into the toilet and give it a quick flush. Evidence gone.

There is only one problem with the "donut" hot water heater and an impatient inmate discovered it painfully. In a dormitory style cell, the eight residents were heating up some morning coffee. The first "donut" burned and smoldered for about twenty minutes, allowing four of the inmates to heat up some water. Then a second "donut" was lit and the remaining inmates heated their water. When the last of the water was heated, an inmate, feeling the call of nature, went to the toilet and swept the still smoldering donut into the toilet saying, "About time!" He promptly dropped his drawers and sat down on the toilet, burning a nice ring on his posterior; stainless steel being a wonderful conductor of heat.