Ready, Set, No.

The 8 foot long drain cleaning cables I sell come in barrels of 20. At just about a pound a foot, that's 160 pounds each. At 66, I appreciate help lifting them into the new old van. Indeed, it's almost a necessity, though I can manage it if I must.

Wednesday last I went to Electric Eel (Electric Eel: for all your drain cleaning needs) and was happy to have me brother Phil along. But I did learn that when you ask a question, it's really important to wait for the answer.

I rolled a barrel up to the side door of the van and leaned it backwards for us to lift. As we each bent down opposite one another and began to take hold of the barrel I asked, "Ready?" and immediately started to lift.

"No," Phil replied. Consequently, I nearly heaved myself into a hernia. Fortunately, my hands just slipped off the barrel, and I was able to regain my balance with one backward step.

Have a question for someone? Wait. For. The. Reply. Your back will appreciate it.

Less Healthy

"You ever had deep fried Twinkies?" me brother Phil asked me the other day.

"Can't say I have."

"I was going into a restaurant one day and there was a sign which said, We have deep fried Twinkies," he explained. "So I bought one."

"Was it any good?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Why'd you try it? Curiosity?" I asked.

"I suppose," Phil answered. "But mainly I wondered, how can they make something unhealthy even more unhealthy?"

Yeah, you do wonder if there was a brainstorming session for that.

Insult to Injury

Tony's Restaurant in Birch Run, Michigan is known for the pound of bacon which comes with it's breakfast entrees. Me brother Phil is known to eat ravenously. Indeed, he takes a certain pride in that.

The two of us were in the northern part of the state making an early delivery yesterday. On the way home I said, let's stop at Tony's. We have time. Full disclosure: maybe we didn't really have time, we've been so busy. But dammit, you're only near Tony's every now and then, so, priorities.

We ordered a platter each of scrambled eggs, a heap of them, a ton of hash browns, and toast with Tony's strawberry preserves. I'm not huge on strawberry but their homemade preserves are fan-bloody-tastic. Of course, the pound of bacon came with it all.

About halfway through our meal the waitress came by to check on us. She left us, of her own volition, take home trays. We didn't request any.

"I am personally insulted by that," Phil said indignantly.

"Huh?"

"Like I can't eat this whole platter at one sitting. But maybe she doesn't know me."

Your reputation doesn't proceed you everywhere, bro.

Nah, Nobody'll Notice

Several years ago me brother Phil had the opportunity to repair a drain snake cable. I don't recall where me or me Pops were that day, but so it goes.

The man brings in a large cage type snake to have an end installed on a cable he had broken. It's important to know that the unit was cage style, because that means you could see approximately how much cable was in it. The particular machine Phil dealt with had a capacity of 100 feet of 3/4 inch cable. This too is important to understand.

There was around 20 feet of cable in the machine, me brother guessed. "I can put an end on that, but it's really not enough to work with on main sewer lines," Phil advised the guy.

"But you can do it?" he said. Being told it can certainly be done, he instructed Phil to do it. So Phil did, and the man paid him.

Me brother went outside to help him load the machine onto his pickup truck. Then the man let the truth come out. "I rented this from a place and lost over 80 feet of cable in a sewer, so that's why I wanted you to put an end on it. Do you think they'll notice?"

Phil had to stifle a laugh. "I imagine they will," he opined, in as kindly a manner as he possible

What do you think? I bet you'd notice it was missing. Things like that are pretty obvious.

Lightning Fast

Me brother once bragged facetiously, "When I have a hammer I'm like lightning. I never hit the same place twice!"

A buddy of his, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, responded, "Well I'm not lightning then. When I'm hammering a nail I can hit the same place two, three times."

"That so?" Phil asked.

"Yep. It's usually my left thumb," explained Cloyce.

Oh, that Cloyce.

Mom Knows All

Mothers know everything. The old eyes in the back of the head? Moms. They have them. They even have an uncommon foresight which isn't always appreciated.

Me Mom passed away, sadly, in 2022. To me brother Phil came the task of clearing our her things. Oh, we all helped to one degree or another, but the bulk of the job fell on his shoulders. Even Mom seemed to anticipate that.

One day as he was sorting out stuff he picked up something, I don't remember what, and was just about to let it fall into the trash can. Yet a slip of paper caught his eye. Taking it out from its center in the object, it turns out that it was a note from Mom: "Phil, don't throw this away without giving the other kids a chance to see if they want it. Mom" 

I don't know whether to laugh or cry at that. But Mom, she knew he would toss it and didn't want that without a chance to see if it might be valuable to one of his siblings. I'm going to have to ask him what it was, and if one of us took it. 

Dial a Joke

It was at the end of a long, difficult week at the old barn. We sat around the coffee pot, me, me Pops, and me brother Phil as the clock hit 3:30, debating whether to wish the week sayonara and close early. We compromised. We'd stay at the Shop until 5 but would not answer the phone.

Those were the days before cell phones. We did not have an answering machine at work because we always, and I mean always before that point, answered the phone. That was to be the first time we would consciously ignore it. Honest.

Somewhere around 4 the phone began to ring. True to our vow the three of us sat in our chairs, sipping coffee and engaging in small talk. We let it ring.

And boy did it ring. If I had to guess I would say a couple of hundred times. Indeed, maybe several hundred. It went on for a good 15 minutes. Likely more. Eventually we were alternately laughing and then shaking heads at the caller's persistence. He was as determined to get an answer as we were not to provide one. "Can you imagine what the guy must be thinking? Man, Cosgriff gotta be busy not to answer their phone!" 

The thing is, no one ever owned up to the call. But it finally gave up the ghost and we finished our Friday in by then glorious quiet.

Printing Woes

On Monday after much hassle, I finally had current proof of insurance for my two cars. Yet it didn't stop there.

After finally getting updated insurance forms, my printer decided it didn't like me. It refused to spit the darn things out because, as it informed me politely, it did not recognize my computer.

An easy enough problem to solve, oui? Non. Non, non non at all.

Going to the settings file on my desktop, I located a window which said to type in a code which my printer would give me at my command. Lo and behold, it did. So the printer appeared to recognize my device.

It turns out that it was snickering with evil. I typed the eight digit number into the window on my screen and that spinny thing began which supposedly means something is happening. Great. My issue would be resolved.

Then I heard that evil cackle. The access window on the printer was flashing; it reported that the time frame to use the code had expired. What? It had not even been 30 seconds.

I tried again and was given a new eight digit number. The code expired almost as quickly as I entered it.

Third time's the charm, oui? Non. Non, non non non at all.

In desperation I emailed my cards to me brother Phil, who conveniently lives at the other end of the block. I had to have the cards or else Tuesday I could not legally drive my cars. He came to the rescue, printed them, and brought them down to me.

So, insurance problem settled. But me and that printer are going have a talk. Perhaps an attitude adjustment is in order.

Double Meanings

We all know that there are things we say which have double meanings. No, not those meanings. Quiet, Ron.

The other day at the old barn I told my brother that so-and-so could have his order because he's paid for. "He's paid for?" Phil demanded. No, the stuff is paid for; my bad grammar is just bad grammar.

Last week as we were driving to Electric Eel to pick up some stuff I told that same brother of mine that "We'll get loaded, then we'll go into the office and sign our paperwork."

"You want to get loaded before we get to the plant?" he asked, shock on his face.

See what I have to put up with? 

Like Riding a Bike

This morning me brother Phil and I towed a car which deigned not to start (how dare that contraption!) using my newer older van and a yellow tow rope. Sure, illegal. Damn that nonsense.

We drug it to our mechanic, about a mile away from the old barn. Humm-boy, we did a good job of it too, just like in the old days when me Pops and me Grandpa Joe and the rest of us did such with regularity. And impunity, not unlike this morning. We're devil may care, we Cosgriffs. 

I drove the lead car, Phil guided the tow. We kept that rope taut the whole way too. The trick to towing with a rope is that you let the trail vehicle carry most of the braking, holding back on the lead van just enough that the rope never goes slack. What you're trying to avoid are any herky-jerky movements which may dislodge the hook where the rope attaches to the cars.

You watchin', Joe? You watchin', Pops? We still got it. Like riding a Bike.

Small Change

Me brother Phil has a reputation for being tight. Just how tight, well, it would hardly qualify as family lore if the accusation wasn't blown up beyond reasonable proportions now, would it?

Yesterday he drove me to the mechanic to pick up my new old van. The total for the repairs was $694.55; not bad really, considering the muffler, blower motor, and turn signal assembly were replaced.

I handed the cashier seven one hundred dollar bills. She opened the till and gave me back five singles, but then looked up in embarrassment. "I don't seem to have any coins," she told me.

"Ah, don't worry about forty-five cents," I replied. At that point from behind me came an audible gasp, so loud that it quieted the entire room. It nearly took the air out of it.

The love of money, dude. The love of money.

Lack of Planning

I'm not the only one who walks. Me brother Phil affords himself regular constitutionals. Yet unlike me he tends to hike in the late afternoon or early evening. 

One Sunday afternoon a bit after 4, he went out. While getting his exercise he figured to check out the Shop, the old barn where we work, just to see it was secure. 

He was just a bit surprised to see a plumber waiting by the door. "Man, I'm glad to see you Cosgriff. I need my machine worked on."

"Well, you're really lucky to find me. We normally aren't here this time of the week," Phil explained.

The man said, "Oh, I know. I just hoped someone might come around eventually."

So you came late on a Sunday afternoon? Did you intend to wait outside my door until Monday? Still, me brother offered, "Well, since I'm here, let's open up and take a quick look at your snake."

The plumber stammered, "Uh, I don't have it with me."

So you came to the Shop at a time when you didn't think that anyone would be there, and you didn't bring your machine, thought Phil. And, you didn't see a flaw in that plan?

Yet he said, "We'll be here tomorrow morning at 8 then sir."

I don't think we ever actually saw him though. That may he just as well.

To Be Too Late

There was this very helpful and concerned fella who used to come into the old barn, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who really cared about our well being. Indeed whenever we might face peril, he'd call out a warning. Trouble was, his warnings were always just a tad too late. Or at least, late enough that they'd have been no help at all.

"Watch it Phil!' he'd yell to me brother just exactly one instant after Phil had lost his grip on something and it fell to the floor, shattering. 

"Watch it Marty!" he'd scream at me the very moment after the tool I was using under pressure had slipped and was flying across the Shop.

"Watch it Bill!" Cloyce would belatedly warn me Pops precisely when a red hot fitting he had been heating had already popped out of the bench vise and just missed falling into his boot. 

To this day whenever I have narrowly averted catastrophe I can hear Cloyce's panicked yell, "Watch it Marty!"

Cloyce's warnings were truly just in time to be too late. Every. Single. Time. But I suppose he meant well.

Something Borrowed

Me brother Phil would regularly chauffer me Grandma Cosgriff or me Grandpa Joe around, for whatever reason. One day for whatever reason he was taking Joe out, but they had to borrow Grandma's car. She gave them a list of cautions about how to drive her vehicle.

The roads were a little dirty that day, causing specks of dirt to form on the windshield. Phil wasn't paying much attention to them as they weren't really obstructing his vision.

Apparently, however, they were obstructing Joe's. Yet in his own quaint manner, rather than asking me brother to use the washer he instead barked, yea demanded, "Did your grandmother tell you you couldn't use the windshield washer?"

Phil cleared the window.

The Christmas Movie Debate

The past weekend at the Old Redford Theater was Christmas movie weekend. They offered Scrooged, A Muppet Christmas Carol, and Home Alone along the way. The Sunday matinee was billed as a mystery Christmas film. 

"Is it a mystery surrounding Christmas?" me brother Phil and definitely not Cloyce asked.

"No, It's a mystery what the film is. They won't reveal which movie until opening curtain." Yes, they still have a curtain at the Old Redford.

Well, it turns out that Phil was kinda right (he never is more than kinda of right, and at that rarely). Imagine my delight when the movie turned out to be The Thin Man, a delightful comedy drama murder mystery with Christmas as a backdrop. It has William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles, the wonderfully bantering married sleuths. Great, crisp writing, fine acting, smart and funny quips between Nick and Nora; it's one of my all time favorite films. It was a satisfying surprise for me.

But is The Thin Man a Christmas movie? Along the lines of Die Hard I suppose it is, as the action occurred over the Holiday. That said, you figure it out. I have my opinion (I typically do) but today I'm just going to be the guy throwing the bomb into the room and running away.

Toddlers Being Heard

One fine summer day a few years ago a neighbor woman stopped by me Mom's house as she, me self, and me brother Phil sat on the porch. It was a nice, friendly visit. I'll call her Mrs. Cloyce just to give her a name; she had her toddler son in tow.

"We're just coming back from his first protest!" Mrs. Cloyce was explaining in great excitement. "I was so happy to have this experience with him. I hope he'll remember it the rest of his life." She went on to coo and ahh and gush over the event as if the child had just said Mama or Dada the first time or had taken his first steps. In her opinion apparently this was a great thing for the boy. She sure was making that big a deal out of it.

Okay, fine, I guess. We all expose our children to what we think important, even early on. Yet the best observation of the whole thing came after Mrs. Cloyce and her son had left to go home. "So that's the trouble with our world," me brother Phil remarked when they were out of earshot, "The lack of a social consciousness on the part of our nation's two-year-olds."

I personally believe it a rather apt interpretation.

Lost Art

This morning, with the help of me brother Phil, we towed me new old van with me newer older van to the mechanic about a mile and a half away. We used a simple tow rope. We've done it before, and much more spectacularly. 

The trick is coordination. The lead car decides when to stop, when to proceed, and controls the timing. The towed car keeps the rope taut. For example, I drove the newer older van while Phil guided the new old van. While on 14th Street I purposely slowed us down to stay in between traffic lights so that we'd make the greens and avoid the reds; we wouldn't have to stop entirely any more than we had too. At the same time Phil would apply brakes to affect a drag on my 'pull' vehicle. We managed it with a minimum of jerking either van. Consequently, the tow was smooth.

We kept to the side so as not to impede traffic. Indeed, we use sparely travelled streets when we tow for that same reason. You should be considerate of others.

Granted, it doesn't always work well. Ask Zeke. But if you pay attention, cars can be safely towed with ropes. It's just a dying art. But we Cosgriffs do what we can to keep it in vogue.

Anybody Home?

Adrian is a small town in Lenawee County Michigan, about 90 minutes southwest of Detroit. It's the kind of place I wouldn't mind making a home: small town living close enough to the big city for big city conveniences. I was just there yesterday.

The profusion of cell phones means that cities such as Adrian are very close. Close enough that customers can easily reach you, as one did me late yesterday afternoon. He wanted to drop off his machine for repair. "I'm sorry, but no one's there. Me brother Phil has the day off, and I'm in Adrian. Bring it to my shop tomorrow," I explained.

"Oh. Well, could I bring it now and you check it tomorrow?"

Oh-kay. I re-explained (in little words with a very precise cadence) that I was an hour and a half from the old barn and Phil was not available, so that there was nobody there to leave it with. What I did not ask (although I wanted to) was, what part of  'I'm in Adrian, bring it tomorrow' was not clear in the first place?

I'll give you a dime to a dollar he doesn't show after all.

Yard Sales by Phil

Me brother Phil has the right attitude towards yard sales. If you have something you think is worth $20, put a 10 dollar price tag on it, be ready to take 5 to 8, and as little as 2 or 3 when it's near closing time. Mark it to move, and throw out or give the Salvation Army what's left. Everybody wins.

I do like how he thinks.

Water For Safekeeping

Me brother Phil is going through a degree of organizing lately. He's taking it quite seriously too. Last Saturday he was showing me a few new containers he had bought for storage. "They're just what I need," he explained. "They're thirty gallon size."

"That is plenty large," I agreed. "But why thirty gallons? You don't need to store water. In comes in from the tap."

I'll show myself out. Just like he showed me out of his house last weekend.