Today William and I sold Boy Scout Fair Coupon Books at the Kroger at Echo Lane and I-10. For a couple of hours in the frigid afternoon air, we greeted a steady flow of shoppers from all walks of life. One by one we asked them if they would be interested in buying a coupon book to support the Boy Scouts of America. The coupon book is actually a good deal--for $10 you get $400 worth of coupons to Kroger, Luby’s, McDonalds, James Coney Island, and several other Houston businesses. The three Scouts working this particular Kroger were quite anxious to tell the passersby that the coupon for free Blue Bell ice cream could be used immediately!
At some point during our afternoon sales shift from 2:00 to 4:00, we had a nice woman (though she bordered on obnoxious) donate $50 to William! She said she wasn't from Houston, but wanted to help the Boy Scouts. As she rambled incessantly about Boy Scouts, Kansas, and fast food, we thanked her for her generosity.
William was a coupon-book-selling machine. It didn’t matter who walked into the store--moms, dads, grandparents, college students, the security guard, the cashier on her smoke break...even the acne-faced teenager wearing his blue Kroger vest gathering the shopping carts from the parking lot--everyone was given an opportunity to buy $400 worth of coupons for $10! And it didn’t matter if William asked the person when they walked into the store...he asked them again when they walked out--just in case they wanted to buy a second coupon book!
William approached one particular older woman who was wearing a faded and tattered sweatsuit. A lace on her once-white shoes was broken. It appeared her green and orange wool socks had been in the washing machine many times.
"Excuse me?” William’s little voice called out her. “Would you like to support the Boy Scouts by buying a coupon book for $10? It has free ice cream!”
Her apologetic eyes met mine. I wanted to look away. I didn’t. I expected more of what I’d heard many times earlier, ‘Not right now.’
I even had my standard response ready, ‘That’s OK, have a great day!’
In a voice spoken soft enough for only me to hear, she said, “I’m sorry; I cannot afford $10.”
I watched her as she dug through her well-aged handbag. Seconds later, her age-spotted hand emerged from the bag clinching a one-dollar bill and various scraps of paper.
“Do you accept donations? Would it be all right if I donated a dollar?”
As I took the coupon book from William and slipped it into one of the plastic Kroger bags in her cart, I said, “That’s very kind of you, but you keep that dollar. And you keep this coupon book too.”
My hand had not even released the coupon book before tears were visible on her pale cheeks. The appreciative smile on her face said everything her voice could not. As she looked down at William, he smiled and said, “There’s a coupon for free ice cream in there too!”
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Chair
My appointment was for 2:00. As I glance up to look at the over-priced clock, I realize my ass hurts from the uncomfortable waiting-room chair. I also realize it's 2:48.
Interestingly--though no shocker to you--if I'm 48 minutes late to an appointment, I have to reschedule. Part of the rescheduling process involves me explaining that it's raining, and Houstonians suck at driving in the rain, and I shouldn't have to pay for a visit!
...but not today. No, today I was here at 1:55. Rain and all.
It's 2:51.
My doctor recognizes me as he casts a warm smile my way and calls "John Somethingoranother" to come back.
"Mallin. It's Bill Mallin." It doesn't even sound like "John Somethingoranother." UGH!
I cannot see the clock this time. I even leaned to the right to stretch my back. Stupid chair. I hate this chair.
Perhaps I should join the over-weight lady wearing black leggings and hoolahoop earrings. She's bitching at the emotionally detatched receptionist. She's also blocking my view of the clock.
I hate this chair.
I hate that the lady directly across from me is deaf. I know she's deaf because the volume of the Mexican soap opera she's watching on her phone cannot possibly be turned up any louder. I hate Mexican soap operas.
There are 27 lights in the ceiling. There are four speakers, eight A/C vents, three sprinkler heads...
Interestingly--though no shocker to you--if I'm 48 minutes late to an appointment, I have to reschedule. Part of the rescheduling process involves me explaining that it's raining, and Houstonians suck at driving in the rain, and I shouldn't have to pay for a visit!
...but not today. No, today I was here at 1:55. Rain and all.
It's 2:51.
My doctor recognizes me as he casts a warm smile my way and calls "John Somethingoranother" to come back.
"Mallin. It's Bill Mallin." It doesn't even sound like "John Somethingoranother." UGH!
I cannot see the clock this time. I even leaned to the right to stretch my back. Stupid chair. I hate this chair.
Perhaps I should join the over-weight lady wearing black leggings and hoolahoop earrings. She's bitching at the emotionally detatched receptionist. She's also blocking my view of the clock.
I hate this chair.
I hate that the lady directly across from me is deaf. I know she's deaf because the volume of the Mexican soap opera she's watching on her phone cannot possibly be turned up any louder. I hate Mexican soap operas.
There are 27 lights in the ceiling. There are four speakers, eight A/C vents, three sprinkler heads...
I hate this chair.
Hoolahoop ears is walking this way eyeing the chair next to mine...HOLY MOTHER OF GOD...IS THAT PERFUME? Please go block the clock again!
It's 3:06.
3:07
3:07:30
3:07:47
...
It's 3:12:13.
Stinky has just informed the deaf girl she has beautiful hair.
My nostrils burn.
Felix is apparently going to leave Maria (or so I gather from my limited Spanish).
John Somethingoranother apparently has a major illness.
Deaf girl does not have beautiful hair.
My ass hurts.
I hate this chair.
It's 3:06.
3:07
3:07:30
3:07:47
...
It's 3:12:13.
Stinky has just informed the deaf girl she has beautiful hair.
My nostrils burn.
Felix is apparently going to leave Maria (or so I gather from my limited Spanish).
John Somethingoranother apparently has a major illness.
Deaf girl does not have beautiful hair.
My ass hurts.
I hate this chair.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Some stats from my running...
This is some interesting information, at least to me...I've been using a Garmin GPS type watch to record a lot of my running…for my last 79 runs to be exact...
(here's where the engineer in my raises its head...)
Over the last 79 recorded runs, I've:
- covered over 313.40 miles
- ran a total of 48 hours, 54 minutes and 8 seconds
- climbed over 60,778 ft (and descended an equal amount, obviously)
- had an average HR of 166 bpm and an average maximum HR of 190 bpm
- burned 36,049 Calories
- averaged 3.97 miles on each run
- had a maximum run distance of 11.12 miles
- had an average running time of 37 minutes and 8 seconds per run
- and ran for 1 hour, 40 minutes and 55 seconds straight at one point.
If this link works, you should be able to see the all of the activities (running, cycling, etc.):
I'm surprised I'm not faster and healthier!
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Magnolia Marc's 1996 Proflex Attack
I helped my Buddy, Magnolia Marc, restore his old 1996 Proflex Attack.
If you like old bikes... check it out...
http://billsbike.blogspot.com
If you like old bikes... check it out...
http://billsbike.blogspot.com
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Juneteenth - Olivewood Cemetery
Special Ed, Magnolia Marc and I went on a photo safari this morning. Our plan was to shoot old abandoned buildings, which we did later in the day, but we started off at Olivewood Cemetery.
Olivewood Cemetery lies near a bend in White Oak Bayou, along the rail line to Chaney Junction, where the First and Sixth wards meet just northwest of downtown. The 6-acre cemetery is a historic resting place for many freed slaves and some of Houston’s earliest black residents.
In 1875, the land, which had previously been used for slave burials, was purchased by Richard Brock, Houston's first black alderman. It opened as a cemetery for black Methodists in 1877. When Olivewood was platted, it was the first African-Americans burial ground within the Houston city limits. The cemetery contains graves of both the well-to-do and those who died in poverty; therefore, the grave markers run the gamut from elaborate Victorian monuments to simple, handmade headstones. Burials at Olivewood Cemetery continued through the 1960s.
While we were out there, an archeologist showed up and said he was doing some historic research. He said there would be a crowd of folks out later in the day given that today is Juneteenth. He was part of a non-profit group called "Decedents of Olivewood." He told us that the site was supposed to contain 440 graves, but his research over the last nine years has revealed there are more than 800 graves at the site.
Even though the Decedents of Olivewood was established to take guardianship of the cemetery, decades of neglect and abandonment are evident. Water and vandals have damaged many of the graves, and at the back of the cemetery many of the graves are hardly visible because of the overgrowth and disregard.
Olivewood Cemetery lies near a bend in White Oak Bayou, along the rail line to Chaney Junction, where the First and Sixth wards meet just northwest of downtown. The 6-acre cemetery is a historic resting place for many freed slaves and some of Houston’s earliest black residents.
In 1875, the land, which had previously been used for slave burials, was purchased by Richard Brock, Houston's first black alderman. It opened as a cemetery for black Methodists in 1877. When Olivewood was platted, it was the first African-Americans burial ground within the Houston city limits. The cemetery contains graves of both the well-to-do and those who died in poverty; therefore, the grave markers run the gamut from elaborate Victorian monuments to simple, handmade headstones. Burials at Olivewood Cemetery continued through the 1960s.
While we were out there, an archeologist showed up and said he was doing some historic research. He said there would be a crowd of folks out later in the day given that today is Juneteenth. He was part of a non-profit group called "Decedents of Olivewood." He told us that the site was supposed to contain 440 graves, but his research over the last nine years has revealed there are more than 800 graves at the site.
Even though the Decedents of Olivewood was established to take guardianship of the cemetery, decades of neglect and abandonment are evident. Water and vandals have damaged many of the graves, and at the back of the cemetery many of the graves are hardly visible because of the overgrowth and disregard.
Sad.
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