On Being Called a "Curmudgeon"--Part 1

When I turned 65 recently, on November 1, 2009, I entered the ranks of senior citizens without question. And I suppose I became a full-fledged curmudgeon in the minds of some people. I really don't like being called a curmudgeon, which by definition is a bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person. I prefer to consider myself a kind, considerate and thoughtful person. But, I am a kind,considerate and thoughtful person who doesn't abide stupidity easily.

I recently had some leg problems which deteriorated rather quickly. In a day's time I went from hobbling to walking (or shuffling) with a cane. The next day I was barely moving with a walker and when I finally was able to get in to see the doctor, I had to use a wheel chair. We don't know what caused it, but we treated the symptoms and made improvement. (There are still times I feel more comfortable with a cane in hand.)

A few days later I was back moving ever so slowly with a cane. My wife had tickets for a concert by the musical group, U-2, at the football field at the University of Oklahoma in Norman. I wanted to go and it was important to her, so we, with a couple of friends, set out. They drove me as close to the field as they could and then, like others ahead of us, we turned left and stopped so I could walk the three blocks or so to the field while they parked the car further away.

I struggled to rise to a standing position from the car as a young police officer watched me. I then used my cane to shuffle to the trunk where I was getting my coat. As I raised the trunk, the young officer said, "You'll have to move that car."

I turned toward him slowly, looked him in the eye and with deliberation, said, "Officer, I'm moving as fast as I can." Then I remained silent and kept staring at him. It was a pregnant pause.

I thought he might want to say something like, "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't notice you were barely able to walk even with that cane. Is there anything I can do to help you?" Or, "I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't ask about your physical capabilities, I simply want you to know you have to move that car." Or, even, "I'm sorry, sir, but I was born with mental deficiencies and it has caused me to have a lot of feelings of inferiority but this badge and this gun make up for it."

To my surprise he didn't say anything at all. I should have let it go, but I took my cane and hit the car and called to my wife loudly. She got out of the car and asked me what was wrong. I said, "You can't leave the car here." She allowed as how she wasn't going to, to which I replied, "Well, me and this young officer thought you were going to park here all night. And we just wanted you to know you'll have to move that car."

She got in the car and drove off and I hobbled past the young officer commenting on his intelligence, or lack thereof, and probably commenting on his parentage. I also expressed my hope that he would be old someday and unable to walk well and I hoped he remembered this. To his credit, he still had nothing further to say.

Perhaps I am a curmudgeon after all.

Halloween

I love Halloween. Always have. When I was a kid we lived in a rural community near Erick, Oklahoma, a small town of about 1,500 people. At that time, the late 1940s and 50s, there seemed to be a young family living on each quarter-section of land, a young farm family usually with 2 to 4 children. It was a good life and the proximity to Erick made it all the better.

Erick was our town. It was where we went to church and where our family and friends lived. It was where we went on Saturdays to sell cream and while we were there we visited with other farm families. Erick was a social gathering place.

Halloween was a special holiday in Erick. A block of Main Street, where the primary businesses were situated, was roped off and limited to foot traffic. The businesses all stayed open late and the various school classes set up booths on the street. It was all innocent fun, intended to provide something wholesome for the children who took over the town. It was a large number of children, all the kids in town and all the country kids who came to town for the carnival

For the kids, it was a glorious and innocent time. We dressed in costume, usually something we made with maybe a store-bought item such as a ten cent mask, and were there by the time the sun went down. We ran in small groups throughout the town to trick-or-treat every house we could find. I don’t remember ever leaving a house empty handed. We got some candy, some fruit, some homemade items. It was all special to us.

We worked a section of the town and then went to the carnival. We usually had just enough money given us to participate in some of the various booths. Then we would hit another section of town. Back to the carnival and then trick-or-treat each business. There was always another section of the town to go to. We could eventually cover the entire town and only slow down when someone asked if we hadn’t been there earlier. It was time to go back to Main Street. A half-block over was Cal’s Café, opened in 1946 after World War II had ended. Cal was my uncle and he was usually there. I don’t know what he gave the other kids, but he always gave me a soft drink and a sandwich, along with the candy.

Halloween was fun. Masks, costumes and stalking through the night. People were kind and sharing. There were enough respectful screams and terrified looks to keep us contented that we were doing our share to carry on the spirit of the holiday.

All of this was a great time. Why was it so good? In part it may have been because we had so little that this was a special time in which the cornucopia was exposed to our view. It would happen again at Thanksgiving, my very favorite holiday. Christmas, probably most people’s favorite, has a uniqueness all its own. It is a religious experience, not a secular holiday. Thanksgiving is a time of memories of family in the harvest time of the year, the great and joyous time of an agrarian society. Halloween, to me, was closely related to the season of harvest and it provides memories of community.

Followup of August 20,2009 Post

On August 20, 2009 I filed a post regarding emails. This is a followup of that original posting.

My friend responded to me that she was disappointed I had abandoned Christianity and had become a Marxist and Leninist. That response was a little over the edge. I can only imagine what it might have been had I actually commented on her original email.

One Dog's Story

I recently published a small book entitled One Dog's Story. It is the story of a dog as told by the dog itself. I began writing it as a children's book, thinking it would be an appropriate book for Middle School age children. Thus, there were small words, short sentences and such. It also had to be written this way as it was being told by a dog, an old and wise dog to be sure, but, nonetheless a dog. As I continued to write the story got away from me. It took on a life of its own and by the time I was through it was no longer a children's book. Children could certainly read it and enjoy it. They could easily get the central message of the book. (I believe that "central message" will change with each different age of the reader.)

It is simply the story of the dog's life, as told by the dog.

The reader can communicate with the me about this book and may order copies via the internet. I can be reached at

hfranklin@littegoatbooks.com

Email Trash

I recently received an email from a friend, a dear friend, which was attributed to David Kaiser. It was factually innacurate and was basically a hate-filled document written by someone who resents that they lost the last election when Barack Obama was chosen to be president of the United States. Normally I just allow this kind of thing to pass. It stops with me and I send it no further. I used to respond to all such publications but that was some time ago. I have discovered that people who send out this type email correspondence really have no interest in honest and civil dialogue and no interest in the truth. It is always possible to find someone who will support your positions regardless of how outlandish they may be. But, I was disappointed with this particular one and needed to debunk it.

I wanted to debunk the email, not because I found it offensive and infuriating, but, rather, because I care for the friend who sent it out. She stated that it stated her position perfectly. I began researching in order to debunk what was said in the otherwise well-written article. I began where many people would begin their research, I simply googled the name of the author. It was amazing to see the first thing that appeared was a blog post by this author denying that he ever wrote the thing, disclaiming it and then discrediting it. I found his article to be well-written and very enlightening. I then went on to read some more of his posts in his blog and found all of them to be quite informative.

I responded to the e-mail and included a link whereby my friend would be able to read for herself what David Kaiser had to say on this subject. I hope this does some good.