Scooter's Blog

Behind the Cobwebs of Scooter's Mind

Random Thoughts From A Real ~~Stink~~ Thinker

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Monday, October 27, 2008

Happy Birthday Pumpkin

My youngest child, and only daughter, celebrated her third birthday this past weekend. Roselynn (or Rosie as we call her) is the happiest little girl I have ever known, and I believe that is because she is surrounded by cheerful, positive people every day of her life. Mostly, though, it’s just because she is loved so very much – and she knows it.

The power of love. It is in every smile she shares with us.

In so many ways, Rosie is a lucky little girl. She has four big brothers –and I mean big. Her 18-year old brother stands about 6-foot-6. Her 23 and 21-year old brothers are about 6-foot and 6-foot-3 respectively, and her youngest brother, who is 16, is about 5-foot-7; he is my stepson, so he didn’t get the Fortney “tall genes.” Suffice to say, Rosie will have more than her fair share of defenders. That makes a daddy happy.

Rosie was also blessed with a very intelligent and loving mom. While pregnant with Rosie, my wife studied all the diet experts to be sure that she put nothing in her system that would harm our baby; she also made sure that she ate all of the right things that would benefit our little girl. I have never witnessed such thoughtfulness and caring. The result was a very intelligent, healthy baby girl.

Rosie was singing her ABC’s and counting to 20 before she was 1-year old. She knew at least half the states in America by the time she was 30-months old, not just by name but by sight on a map. She has been holding conversations with full sentences since before her second birthday. Rosie sings and knows the words to many children’s songs every day. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. And I believe it is mostly because she has such a caring and intelligent mom.

So yesterday, as we celebrated Rosie’s third birthday, I toasted not just the third anniversary of the day of her birth – but also her wonderful, beautiful mother, Stacy.

Happy Birthday Rosie.

Oh, How Rude! Listen to this blog-->

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Are you old enough to remember when kids were taught manners?

No, seriously.

When I was growing up, my three brothers and I learned manners from the time we were old enough to talk and in to our high school years. Yes, we stumbled and forgot to say 'thank you' or 'please' from time to time, and we were reminded (“What do you say?”), and then we corrected ourselves (“Thank you!”) My parents knew that all they had to do was keep reminding us as we grew up, and we would grow to be polite, respectful, courteous adults.

I've helped raise four sons myself, and used the very same technique. The amazing thing is that most people today are so surprised when a young person has manners that they don't seem to know how to react (“Duh… what’d he say?”). That's both a compliment to my kids' parents and a gloomy note about our society.

How many times have you moved out of the way for someone in a crowded store aisle only to have them walk by as though you were invisible?

How often have you come through a grocery store checkout line, and your 'thank you' to the clerk results in a blank stare?

Recently, I noticed some stores are putting up signs (next to where the clerks stand) that read "Did I greet you nicely today?" What the--?! How sad is that?! The store managers are now teaching kids manners!

I, for one, will continue to say 'thank you,' 'please,' 'you're welcome,' ‘excuse me,’ ‘pardon me,’ and so on, and I don't care if it's greeted with a look of confusion.

I will move when I am blocking someone’s path, and ignore the temptation to kick the rude bugger in the butt when he, she or whatever fails to say a simple “Thanks.”

I will still hold the door for others when I see that they are approaching as I enter a building – and ignore the blank stares and that gut sarcastic reaction to bow to them as if they are royalty.

My wife and I are also raising a little girl who will soon be three years old. We've been teaching her manners since before she turned one. Hopefully, when she grows up, she won't get discouraged when people give her a blank stare when she speaks "nicely" without a sign reminding her to do so.

Thank you for reading my rant.

If I haven’t treated you nicely today, please contact my manager.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Fight of the Fall Foliage Listen to this blog-->

I love this time of year. Where I live, trees with colorful autumn leaves tower over every home in the neighborhood. It’s nature’s annual art show.

The only downside to it all is that most of those leaves eventually fall. Before we bought our home five years ago, we had no idea that the house was in the direct line of fire. It sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, and every year the wind seems to conspire to blow all of the neighborhood leaves up the street and settle in our yard… our gutters… our window wells… you get the idea. Last year, I told the next door neighbor that I noticed that the people up the street never seem to get around to raking their leaves; I said, “I think they know that eventually those leaves will end up in our yards anyway. So why bother?”

Every year, I’m like a tired, old general crouched in a foxhole. On windy autumn days, I take my seat by my living room window and wait. Then the invasion begins. The leaves slowly march up my street. There is no escape. I raise my binoculars to see what my leaf blower and I are up against. There are hundreds, no thousands, perhaps millions of the feisty foliage!

By the time the wind settles down, we are surrounded by red, yellow and brown leaves. Several times in the season, nature seems to laugh in our faces as little whirlwinds appear out of nowhere and toss those leaves – this usually happens shortly after I have raked the leaves into several neat piles. It’s as though Mother Nature has bratty kids who play practical jokes on me each year.

In the end, I get the last laugh. Raising my binoculars to my weary eyes, I scan the neighborhood looking for any conniving leaves that might be planning a last minute, surprise attack. After determining that the coast is clear, and the enemy has settled in to their positions surrounding my home, I move in.

With leaf blower over my shoulder, I begin my march as I initiate Operation Autumn Storm. This is about the time I hear music in my head. I think it is “The Imperial March” from Star Wars.

Those dastardly gutter cloggers are about to feel the wrath of my leaf-sucking, mulching machine! Slowly I attack them, luring them in with the promise of another dance in a whirlwind. Little do they know that this whirlwind will be their last.

The next day, after the completion of yet another autumn conquest, I spread the remains in the yards of my neighbors down the street.

Muhwahaha!

Okay. Maybe not. But that sure seems like the perfect ending, doesn’t it.

*No actual leaves were harmed in the making of this story.