Friday, October 28, 2005
Because my brain continues to be fried, in lieu of a post about myself, tonight I shall present a snippet of conversation with a co-worker.
The snowblower was the worst gift my wife had ever given me. On the one side is an 87-year-old who fought in World War II in the Pacific Theater and in the Korean War. I told him, "They couldn’t get you at Inchon and they couldn’t get you on Pork Chop Hill, and I’m not going to let you die from shoveling snow." On the other side of me is a woman who came from my mother’s village in Scotland. I can’t let it get back to them that I’m not shoveling Mary’s driveway. Across the street is Texas Betty, who’s 87, and twice a year she knocks on my door and in her big Texas drawl asks me to shovel her driveway. So now I don’t even let her knock anymore. And next door to her is a guy who has rinkside Rangers tickets, and he flips me eight or 10 a year when he’s down in Florida. He just leaves them in my mailbox. So I gotta shovel his driveway too.
The snowblower was the worst gift my wife had ever given me. On the one side is an 87-year-old who fought in World War II in the Pacific Theater and in the Korean War. I told him, "They couldn’t get you at Inchon and they couldn’t get you on Pork Chop Hill, and I’m not going to let you die from shoveling snow." On the other side of me is a woman who came from my mother’s village in Scotland. I can’t let it get back to them that I’m not shoveling Mary’s driveway. Across the street is Texas Betty, who’s 87, and twice a year she knocks on my door and in her big Texas drawl asks me to shovel her driveway. So now I don’t even let her knock anymore. And next door to her is a guy who has rinkside Rangers tickets, and he flips me eight or 10 a year when he’s down in Florida. He just leaves them in my mailbox. So I gotta shovel his driveway too.
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That anecdote goes along way towards disproving the stereotype that all old New Yorkers move to Florida. And perhaps it presents a good argument for why they should.
You know what they say about Florida... God's waiting room.
I said this in part of a random conversation to a clerk at the Publix the other day and she looked at me and said, That was so sweet, how you put that. And then she *got* what it meant. The look was priceless.
That brings me to another point - I have been warned to to strike up conversations with the natives here because they are well equipped to tell you everything AND MORE than the subejct at hand.
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I said this in part of a random conversation to a clerk at the Publix the other day and she looked at me and said, That was so sweet, how you put that. And then she *got* what it meant. The look was priceless.
That brings me to another point - I have been warned to to strike up conversations with the natives here because they are well equipped to tell you everything AND MORE than the subejct at hand.
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