Sayings (part two)

  As I wrote earlier, my mother kept a baby book for me.  In it, there are some pictures of me from day one, as well as letters, articles, and memorabilia.  One of the things she kept was a group of funny or inspired words I said from early on.  Here is another group:

 Just after I started talking, my mother took me to Heflin, Alabama to visit my grandparents.  En route, I looked at my mother's wrist and said sadly, "Daddy--tick-tock; Mommy--tick-tock; Johnny--tick-tock; Baby--no tick-tock!"  My mother bought a 10-cent watch in Heflin for me.

 On my 6th birthday, I went to Sunday School in Columbia, where my birthday was recognized with singing and a prayer for me by a teacher.  I came out of Sunday School angry and burst out:  "Mother, that teacher prayed I'd grow up to be a good Christian! She ought to know we're not Christians--we're Baptists!"

 Shortly after my hernia surgery and post-operative check-up, my father and I were at the New Orleans airport.  While we were waiting there, an announcement boomed out on the loudspeakers:  "Come to Flight Deck to check operations!"  I looked at my father, dismayed, and said, "But, Dr. Willoughby just checked my operation!"

 My Aunt Frankie died the same year as my grandfather.  I said, "Isn't it nice that Granddaddy can take care of Aunt Frankie now that they are together again?"  I was 6.

Sayings (part one)

  My mother kept a baby book for me.  It has pictures and announcements from when I was born.  There are also letters and memories of our time together.  I cherish this book, and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.  One thing she wrote down were some wise or funny things I said as a child.  For the next couple of stories, I will impart my wisdom on you.

 After watching the family celebrate Mother's Day, and hearing a Mother's Day sermon at church, I asked, "When is it going to be Boy's Day?"  I was three.

 When asked by my mother to tell her what his Sunday School lesson was about, I said, "It was about Zacchaeus.  Jesus told him, "Come down out of that tree and let's go to your house and drink some beer."  I was four.

 At Glorieta, New Mexico, I asked my mother the name of a tree.  She said, "Aspen".  I said, "Bayer or St. Joseph's?"  I was five.

 My mother asked my daddy to paint the porch furniture.  I looked dismayed.  I said, "Now I'll have to tell all my friends that my daddy is a preacher and a teacher and a painter!"  I was five.

 At my grandfather's funeral, I looked at the figure in the casket and asked, "Mother, is that the REAL granddaddy?" I was 4.

 More to come next week.

Banquet

  Back in 2015, the Midlands Transit Riders Association (MTRA) was getting some notoriety.  As president of the association, I was interviewed for TV and newspapers.  We were the voice for the bus riders in Columbia.  We were also recognized by government bodies both locally and nationally.  Our Board of Directors made most of the decisions pertaining to the MTRA, except for some route designs that I did.  Some of our directors didn't like that I was making autonomous decisions, but it had to be done if there was a time constraint.

 Word got to me that one of our members, who was not on our Board, had reached out to the Secretary of the United States Department of Transportation inviting him to speak at a banquet honoring the MTRA and the Comet for their work to make better bus service for Columbia.  I saw the letter, which stated that there would be a banquet at the Columbia Convention Center.  The attendees would be from the Comet, the MTRA, mayors of the affected communities and other political figures.  There was just one problem.  The writer had not consulted with us or anyone else about this banquet.  I called the Convention Center and asked them if they had a banquet on their calendar.  They said no.  I talked to the public relations person at the Comet, and she said she didn't know anything about it.  So, I wrote to the Department of Transportation in Washington to ask Secretary Anthony Foxx not to come to the banquet.  He had been the Mayor of Charlotte before going to DC, so he would have known about Columbia.  

 The letter was an embarrassment to me and to the MTRA.  When I called around to places asking if there was going to be a banquet, I felt stupid for myself and for our association.  There was never going to be a banquet.  We were a non-profit and couldn't afford such a thing, even if we wanted to.  To this day, I don't know why the man wrote the letter and concocted a story about a banquet.  I guess he wanted to be important, like the rest of us were, in the community.  It hurt our credibility for a couple of weeks.  We passed it off as a joke, but it wasn't.  

Hall

  As I have written before, I have gotten several awards for stuff during my life.  There have been awards for drama, writing, leadership, advocacy, and even sexy legs.  However, there is one award that has eluded me.  An induction into a Hall of Fame.

 Back in the 2000's, I saw an ad for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  You could send in some money, and they would send you a t-shirt.  I could also get 10% off in their giftshop, if I was ever in Cleveland, Ohio. I really just wanted the shirt.  On the front, it said, "Rock Your World", and on the back it said, "Member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum".  There was a key word on the back--"Museum".  I was a member of the museum, but not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I could get into the museum at a discounted rate to see memorabilia from inductees.  

 One day, I was wearing the shirt.  A guy saw the back and misread it.  He got very excited and asked me what band I was in.  At the time, I was writing songs for a band called The Cobbwebs.  We had a very popular cd in Europe called "Magic Boat" in 2002.  The guy had never heard of the band but figured that I was in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I should have corrected him, but there was no need.  He went away happy that he had met a famous person.  I'm glad he didn't ask me for my autograph.  I probably would have signed it with a real inductee's name just for a laugh.  Sometimes, you just have to have fun with people.  I'm still waiting for the call from a Hall of Fame.  Maybe one day.

Sin

  As I have said before, I loved to go to the movies.  I had gotten my driver's license, so my parents trusted me with the car.  I was a safe driver at first.  Years later, I discovered the need for speed.  In the early days of my driving, I just wanted to get from Point A to Point B without having a wreck or a ticket.  I got a ticket but no wrecks early on.

 One place my parents trusted me to go by myself was the Sunday night service at my church.  The church was downtown, so they could check the mileage and find I had been there.  The thing was that I didn't go to church.  I went to the movies.  There were several movie theaters downtown.  Some might show movies I wasn't supposed to see at that age, but I had a fake ID.  I would time it out so that I would get back home after the approximate time that the church service would have been over.  That meant that I might not see the entire movie, if it ran longer than 90 minutes.

 When I would get home, my parents would ask me what the preacher's sermon was about.  I would just make up something and go to bed.  My parents were getting a little suspicious of my nightly activities every Sunday.  They had asked some people at church if they had seen me.  Their answers were either no or not sure.  One night, I told my parents that the sermon was on Sin.  I thought that was a safe answer, since almost all sermons had to do with sin.  Except this one.  The next day, they called our pastor and asked him what the sermon on Sunday night was about.  It wasn't Sin.  BUSTED!!

 After that revelation, my parents started looking for a church to join that was closer to our house and nowhere near a movie theater.  As far as they were concerned, 1969 couldn't end soon enough, because the first Sunday of 1970 was a change.  We joined Kilbourne Park Baptist Church, and my life changed for the better.

Seating

  There was an Applebee's restaurant near Columbia Mall.  Some co-workers and I decided to go there for lunch during our lunch hour.  We had heard the food was really good.  It was only a couple of blocks from work, so we thought we could go there and get back easily.

 When we got there, we saw only a few cars in the parking lot.  This was going to be good.  The fewer cars meant faster service.  As we walked into the door of the restaurant, I saw several tables unoccupied.  The waitress informed us that they didn't have any tables open.  I asked her about all of the empty tables, and she said that there wasn't a server for those.  I guess I raised my voice, because she told us to leave.  Now, I was wondering if it was because we were white, and everyone in the restaurant was black.  It sure seemed that way.

 When I got home, I wrote a letter to the corporate headquarters of Applebee's explaining my concerns.  I suppose they were saving those empty tables for a large group that might have been eating there that day, but she could have told us that instead of the story about no server for those tables.  I felt it was a situation of discrimination.  By the way, I abhor discrimination by any means.  I was taught at an early age that we are all equal under God, and that it is wrong to think one race is better than another.  A couple of weeks later, I got a letter from the corporate headquarters apologizing for the lack of service and included a $25 gift certificate.  

 I gave the certificate to another coworker who hadn't been with our group.  I figured that somebody working there would know it was me from the time before, and my food could be compromised.  My friend told me later that the food was delicious.  I'm glad.  That restaurant closed a year or two later.  

KFC

  There was a restaurant in Orangeburg, SC that I loved to go to.  It was KFC.  For some reason, their chicken was better than others I had been to.  I always ordered the two-piece meal all dark.  I like the dark meat, because it seems to be juicier than the white meat.  Also, I would get a leg in the meal.  And, it would be cheaper than the white meat, because of the demand for white meat.  

 One Saturday, I was in Orangeburg to look around.  It was getting on toward lunchtime, so I headed for the KFC.  They didn't have the regular employees that I had seen in there before.  When I gave my order to the cashier, she told me that they were all out of chicken.  How could this be?  I saw chicken made in the back, but she told me again that they were all out of chicken.  I went away sad.

 As I was getting into my car to leave, I saw a man come in behind me.  He got chicken.  The guy behind him got chicken.  I got a little mad.  Was I being discriminated against because I was white and everybody else was black?  That's what I thought.  South Carolina State had a home football game that day.  Maybe these people had reserved chicken to be picked up.  If that was the case, they needed to put a sign on the door saying that only chicken for the game would be available.  

 I wrote their corporate headquarters, when I got back home.  It was the troublemaker in me.  I never heard back from them, and I never went to that KFC again.  They should have changed their name to KFNC (Kentucky Fried No Chicken).  That would have made more sense.