Distracted

As per my usual routine these days, I was up early. The old barn with its passel of drain snakes awaiting repair harkened. Time to make the donuts.

But as I sat on the edge of my bed tying my shoes, I was distracted. The TV was on, tuned to an early morning cartoon show. Up next, the host announced, was the classic Warner Brothers short What's Opera, Doc? 

Opening the Shop would have to wait seven minutes. A man's got to have his priorities in order. Kill da Wabbit! 

In Droves

I think many if not most of us have remarked at times how things seem to happen in bunches. The old saw death comes in threes comes to mind. The truth is I find that idea generally accurate.

I haven't needed a certain particular reversing switch in about eight or ten weeks. Today I need three. There's a part called a gear shaft which comes out of the motor of an Electric Eel Model C. We will literally go months, maybe as long as a half a year, without needing any and then bam - we need four.

Why is that? An friend of mine who is a math teacher once explained to me that statistics actually prove (or at least strongly indicate) that a given thing or things will as a matter of course happen in bunches. The trouble is we tend to think, or want to believe anyway, that even what would be considered random events (those shafts wearing out for example) happen in a nice, linear timeline. A, then B, then C and D and so forth, all nicely spaced. As we typically replace 12 in a year's time we should replace one of them a month, we expect, rather than two in January, none in February or March, four in April and so on.

Yet things don't happen that way. Or I suppose more accurately things over which we have no control happen over an evenly spaced time. They will happen as they happen, and statistically that means in droves. Usually: there will be singular events of course. Yet that too is covered by statistical theory. Sometimes things just happen and that's that.

Another teacher friend of mine is fond of saying math is life. I think she's right. And I think that even more each time I need three reverse switches all at once.

More Can I Do

I was quite happy this morning to find this review of my first collection of blogs, The Sublime to the Ridiculous: Family Lore:

The Sublime to the Ridiculous is a delightful collection of short stories that captures the ups and downs of family life. The tales are fun, relatable, and often quite touching, making it a great pick for light reading. While I enjoyed the mix of humor and heartfelt moments, some stories felt a little too brief, leaving me wanting more detail or depth. That said, the writing style is inviting, and it’s easy to pick up and enjoy a few pages at a time. A lovely book for anyone who appreciates family anecdotes with a mix of laughter and nostalgia.

Well, a little too brief, eh? That can be easily remedied. I can become more elaborate, more verbose; I can inject a great deal more detail into my stories. I can talk a lot. Quiet, Ron.

Seriously, isn't it good to leave them wanting more? And if you want more Sublime to the Ridiculous, here's the link Thank you!

Easter 2026

Alleluia! Alleluia! Blessed Jesus make us rise,

From the life of this corruption 

to the life that never dies.

May we share with Thee Thy Glory

When the days of life are past.

And the dead shall be awakened

By the trumpet's mighty blast!

Happy Easter!

Zeke's Nightmare

Me Uncle John who we sometimes call Zeke worked with me Grandpa Joe in Grandpa's welding machine rental business. At times the pressure of the job got to him.

Zeke came into work one morning looking frazzled. "You okay, John?" my Dad asked him.

"I didn't sleep well," he answered. "In fact I feel like I worked all night."

"How can that be?"

Uncle John explained, "I dreamed I was ill, so I called in sick. But we were so busy that Joe knocked out a wall to my second floor bedroom and had a ramp built up to it, so you guys could bring me welders to work on anyway."

Me Pops just shook his head. "You really need to separate your work and private life better, Zeke."

The Last Words

On Good Friday, it might be instructive to remember the last words of Christ as he hung from the cross. They are:

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." This is our wonderful hope, that God's mercy is greater than His judgment.

"Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." He says this to Saint Dismas, the good thief. I pray he says it to me one day.

"Woman, behold your son; Behold, your mother!" Christ signals that Mary, his mother, is our mother.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Some take this as Christ despairing, yet he was actually praying the 22nd Psalm, a lament which ends in triumph, and proceeds the more famous 23rd: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

"I thirst." He thirsts for God's redemption upon us.

"It is finished." Christ signals his work is completed.

"Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." Christ gives himself up to his God and Father, as we should.

Wild Cards

I've established that me Pops liked to play poker and that he held regular Saturday night games way back when. I asked him once whether he ever held a royal flush, the AKQJ10 all of the same suit. It's the highest poker hand possible, typically. He held royal flushes twice. Yet he lost one time with one anyway.

The games were almost always at his house, and his house rule was that the dealer called the game they were to play while he dealt. Typically it was a standard round of poker and only varied by whether it was draw or stud (don't worry about what those are as it's not important to the story). But he had this one friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who liked to do things differently. Cloyce invariably introduced wild cards into the game.

He might call the well known deuces wild, where twos could be any card you needed them to be. Or it might be one-eyed jacks and suicide kings were wild. He would sometimes call baseball, where threes and nines were wilds. Dad hated such variations. But he felt that in fairness he had to allow them.

Once when Cloyce called for wild cards, me Pops ended up with a true royal flush: 10 through ace, all hearts. No wild cards. Yet he lost to someone holding five sevens: three actual sevens with two wild cards.

That grated him, and I understand why. I think you ought to play the cards true myself. But fair is fair, and at least it wasn't Cloyce who held the five of a kind.