Saturday, August 27, 2016


 A young man's parents drive him to college. It must be all of 2.8 miles away. I've frequently walked there from the house next door.

He may be the smartest of the 3 nephews in that abode.

Nobody now, except his new room mate, will take note of the time his girlfriend shows up or leaves.
He won't be asked to mow the yard.
Or clean the grill.
He won't be asked to shovel snow*.
He won't be asked to water the mosquitos.
He will, all of a sudden, no longer be the stoop labor when his dad sees a job needing to be done.

I was very careful with the young men next door. I paid them a lot of money when I asked for their help and was careful to limit such requests to no more than once a year.

College is the restful alternative for young men who are tired.

I employed the other bunch who also willingly left home and joined the navy.

Where there was plenty of grass that needed to be mowed but not by me.
Ships to be painted but not by me.
Mosquitos needing taming
and Stoop labor.

To be brutally honest here, I was an Engineer and then Ops and I had different requirements but I used to enjoy the second hand stories of men who found the rare shore jobs entertaining. I still remember the one who had two women who worked for him at Norfolk where they were GENDET and did things like mow the grass. He said the one young lass complained that mowing the grass atop her riding mower bothered her tits and she wanted some other job and his solution was simple and brutal and he told her to swap with the seawomen pushing the mower. To be honest, these were never my problems.

There was also the young lady who was able to heave around on an 8 inch mooring line without displacing the coffee cup in her right hand or the cig in her mouth. You don't find young women like that everywhere. Admittedly, that was when I pulled into Alameda and to be honest, most men should run when they come across the local dames there. There were no young ladies at Blossom with that kind of nautical bent. I mean, honestly, 3 quarters of them were wearing cowboy boots. Who knew MetroParkCentralis had so many young women with boots?

We went to a Darius Rucker concert last night with another couple at Blossom. It has been a very long time since I noticed so many young women. Srsly. You'd be amazed. I was amazed. I was a sailor as a youngster and I honestly don't think that I ever went out with a girl that wore cowboy boots. There is absolutely nothing at all wrong with girls who wear cowboy boots. I just want to know where were they when I was a young man growing up in places like Huntsville and Penn State?

I think I can honestly report that a good time was had by all. I certainly enjoyed it.

Somehow, those young men that worked for me got lucky.  It almost never snows in the Middle East or in Southern California. So, at least they were spared the shovel.*

* you have to pay close attention or you'll just think I'm a rambling madman.


The Old Man said...

As a local (closer to Big Met than Manikeekee) I definitely enjoy your musings. Perhaps we should arrange to dine at Mabel's....

HMS Defiant said...

Absolutely. Friday night? Around 1830 or 1900?

OldAFSarge said...

Stoop labor, been there, done that.

HMS Defiant said...

I think everyone in our generation has. Somehow the 21st century did away with it altogether except, you know....those people.

You might be familiar with it. Carmel Valley there by the Del Mar Race Track. When I first moved to Solana Beach the realtor told me they were going to build 50,000 houses in that valley leading down to the sea. I laughed out loud. As it turns out, Lex lived in one of those houses.

I was showing off. I took the woman I love to look over the bluff at that valley where every couple of months 2.2 million sticks are stuck in the ground so that the awful plants and vegatables growing up there can grow straight and tall. Farming is not my thing. Anne Bonny and I stood there atop the mesa looking out over the fruitfull valley and heard a very quiet radio and some young voices coming from right below us. There were very hard working migrants living in a hole in the cliff below us.

There are some people, politicians, who appear to hate immigrants. When I wasn't abroad I spent 30 years working and living in CA and much of that time commuting back and forth between San Diego and San Francisco. Outside the Engineering Department on the ship on my masthead, those immigrants are the very hardest working people I've ever seen.

I'm not talking about just the ones you see driving up the I-5 corridor. When I drove to MetroParkCentralis I didn't discern that the hotel maids were not swastika wearing whip weilding vixens with an out of control sex drive until I reached Peru which is somewhere west of Chicago.

Every now and again, I wonder if people read the comments on my blog. I could probably use blogger's analytics but why not have fun and live dangerously.