Dumb, dumb, dumb....

Back in the early 70s my wife Sue and I were in a piano bar in Honolulu, and for no reason other than that's what I was into back then, I got absolutely blitzed.

As luck would have it, the mens room door happened to be held open by several stacked boxes, which turned out be cases of liquor. As I left the facilities, I reached 2 feet over my head into the top case and extracted a bottle of Chivas, my favorite Scotch!

I was in a tank top and shorts and God knows how but I managed to exit the bar without anyone, including Sue and the couple we were with, noticing what I'd done!

The next day my conscience and the hangover meant forJudas gnawed at me with a vengeance. By early evening I could no longer stand it. I returned to the scene of my crime, the piano bar.

Having already cracked the bottle, I couldn't return it but I asked for the manager, told him what I'd done and praying he wouldn't kill me, handed him a fistful of bills. The guy was a giant Samoan and I was sweating bullets as he came around the counter.

I really thought I was about to die but he gave me a huge hug, thanked me for my honesty and said, "That's great brah, but you grabbed a 12 year old bottle of Chivas. You owe me another eight bucks!"

Sue gave the bar manager a twenty and we were gone. As we litertaly ran out the door, we could hear everyone behind us roaring with laughter!

5 years later, we had an overnight layover in Honolulu on our way to Maui. Upon our arrival, Sue was tired so she took an early evening nap and I went for a walk. Imagine my surprise to find that same little piano bar, right where we'd left it! I decided to check the place out.

The moment I entered I was stunned to find little had changed. The bar and the staff appeared to be the same bunch as before. The manager recognized me immediatey and roared,"Hey, brah, how's it? Look at you! C'mon, have a Chivas on me....but stay the hell outta the bathroom!"

Confrontation, 2011 Style

Today I made my usual mid-week grocery run to Super Store. I pulled into a snug parking spot and realized I was too close to the car beside me. As I started backing up, I noticed a young couple walking behind me and stopped immediately. The man thumped the back of my car with his fist.

I was a little surprised to see him standing there as I exited my vehicle. Around 5'10" and 140 pounds, he had his wife and 2 small children with him. His little hands were balled into fists and the first words out of his mouth were, "Watch where yer goin', asshole!"

I responded, "I was watching. That's how you didn't get hit by my car. Why are you still here?"

The kid's face was beet red as he snarled, "I oughta kick your ass! That's why!" He wrenched free of his wife as she tried to pull him away. "C'mon Ed, can we just go?" she pleaded. One of his children began to cry. "Shut those goddamned kids up!" snarled Ed.

It was starting to look like this could escalate and 25 or 30 years ago, it may have. But that was then and this was now. I decided to be honest.

"I feel bad for you, I really do. Either way this goes, you lose. Beat up an old guy who then calls the cops, you lose. Get laid out by an old guy who then calls the cops, you still lose."

Ed began to advance, his angry little fists raised. "Let's do this", he growled.

"Ed, that's just stupid. You've been watching too much TV. Nothing's going to happen. Go home. Get some help."

With that, I turned and walked towards the store. I could hear Ed huffing and fuming but just as I thought he would, he'd started herding his family toward their vehicle.
I feel truly sorry for this young man. I keep imagining how badly his life will play out, particularly with the innate anger he carries. Maybe he was just having a bad day and I was the excuse he needed to lash out. I hope that was the case but sadly, I doubt it.

"Shoosh"?!?

 I thought I'd I found the perfect post-retirement, part-time job; stocking shelves in a bookstore. I worked Monday through Friday, from 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. This allowed me ample time to make a few bucks while maintaining a fullfilling home life. The job was a little more complex than I'd have thought; oddly challenging but fun. My co-workers were all very nice and for the most part, I fit right in. I had extremely positive responses to my work ethic and while my learning curve didn't feel as sharp as I'd have liked, things were progressing well.

After a year, I encountered a new supervisor who didn't like me. She said as much within a day or two of our meeting. This was a scenario I'd seldom encountered before. Very soon Supervisor Linda was on me about everything task I performed and within a week I began to dread coming to work. I knew instinctively Linda was trying to make me quit and at $10 per hour, my patience was running thin. It dawned on me I wasn't there because I still enjoyed my job. I was there because I couldn't stomach the thought of her "winning"; not a good reason to keep getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m.

One morning Linda asked me why I was doing something a certain way. Midway through my explanation she shoved a stubby index finger in my face and "shooshed" me! I lost it. I'd never before had a derogatory word for Linda but in my mind, she'd stepped over a line. I think my little rant went something like this.

"Are you insane? I'm a 62 year old, grown assed man and you just SHOOSHED me. What're you, 40 something (she's 34)? You've been here, what, 20 years (more like 5)? You've advanced as far as you ever will and really, how pathetic is that? Do you realize the income tax taken off my pension check is more money than you'll ever see in a month? Why would I give a damn what you think or how you feel a task should be done? Seriously, get bent."

By this time the other 3 staff on duty were staring at us, open mothed. Flustered and beet red, Linda mumbled something about my not being allowed to speak to her that way and then, for the first time ever, I quit a job on the spot. It was glorious.

In the end I probably made Linda a very happy little supervisor but I couldn't have cared less. Over 40 years of pent up workplace frustration evaporated in a nano-second. I'd never been so happy with a snap decision in my life and given the circumstances, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

The Origin of the Hamilton Family Motto

In Scotland of the early 1300's, the three Hamilton clans joined Robert the Bruce in the revolt against King Edward the 1st, also known as "Longshanks". They were basically thieves and thugs, yet this revolt all but legitimized their activities.

On one ocassion they were pursued and eventually cornered in a forest by a contingent of Longshanks' forces. Thinking on their feet, they immediately "borrowed" axes and appropriate garb from the locals and posing as what we refer to as lumberjacks, began frantically chopping down trees.

Back then workers hollered "Through!" instead of "Timber!" when felling a tree and the Hamiltons followed suit.

Thinking these fellows were legitimate, the soldiers blew right by them and the Hamilton Family Motto "Through!" was born.

Jack Semple

Canadian guitarist/singer Jack Semple recently played a charity to rebuild the roof of the ancient United Church in dowtown Edmonton. My brother Bruce volunteered he and I to work the door.

Semple was brilliant; very skilled, versatile, funny - the whole package. After his first startlingly intricate number he took the mike, thanked everyone and asked, "Just curious. How many of you play guitar?"

There were over 500 people there and not a hand went up. Bruce whispered, "Raise your hand!" and I just glared at him.

Semple came back with, "Let me put this another way. How many of you OWN a guitar?"

Amid a roar of laughter more than half the people there, including me, raised their hands! It's likely an old bit but I'd never heard it before and I thought it was hilarious!

"Top of the Marnin' To Ya!"

Back in my AGT/TELUS days, one of my best friends was a gruff, grumpy expatriate Brit, Steve White. Steve is an intellegent, interesting guy. An associate engineer, he excelled at his job and he also happened to play guitar like the proverbial "ringin' bell".

Quick witted and always ready with a joke, Steve's humor can be a little raw for some, but he's a charmer nontheless.

One particular recollection captures Steve White perfectly. We were having post-work drinks with a few guys when a pal of ours, Jerry McKenna, announced he was out of money and headed home. Steve offerd to lend Jerry $20 and his offer was readily accepted.

A few days, then a few weeks and finally a couple of months passed and Jerry still hadn't repaid Steve. Jerry's a good man and to this day I'm certain he simply forgot. We'd see Jerry almost every day and Steve would complain and grumble to me every time.

One day Steve and I were on the "up" escalator to work when we spotted Jerry coming down. "There's that cheap son-of-a...", muttered Steve. "Look", I said. "He's obviously forgotten. Just ask him for the money but for God's sake, show a little class. Be subtle."

"Subtle. Got it" mumbled Steve. Seeing us coming, Jerry flashed his usual smile and called out, "Hey guys, how's it goin'?"

"Top of the marnin' to ya, Jer'" responded Steve. "WHERE'S ME FOOKIN' MONEY?"

An ashen-faced Jerry fumbled with his wallet as we passed on the escalator. Steve grinned wickedly, subtle to the end.