It’s akin to my new mantra at work, “just a normal day once in a while”. That’s all I ask. With business at its lowest for over a year, the advent of a periodic ‘normal business day’ turns out to be an emotional blessing. Long term worry leads to depression, and then all of a sudden, bodies in the store and normal orders bring you back to life. Mentally, anyway.

Now, back to this other proposed mantra, “Just talk to US!” That’s all we ask.

I’m referring to our wonderful presidential candidates.

It’s really bad enough to watch your country go down the tubes daily. I’ve lived long enough to know it will never be the same as when I was growing up. For instance with all this hatred toward the ‘rich’, do you ever remember ever spending a lot of time thinking about who was rich and who was poor? Me either, but to add to that, the blatant disregard for the average citizen while making alleged public addresses makes me sick.

Obama so eloquently says nothing, and I wish I could say I believed that McCain did a whole lot better.

Don’t just talk, talk to US!

The real killer is that you and I can go online and watch “Joe American” on You Tube, or read Newt Gingrich on his site, or refer to the lectures of Lindsey Williams and testimony by Oliver North and come away with the feeling that there really are people who understand what it would take to create and protect a prosperous future for America.

How do present day candidates and politicians sleep at night knowing that their sickness involving political correctness literally washes away any valid plan to make a stronger America for ALL 300 million of us. Not just the poor, not just gays, and not just minorities.

Please make sure you and everyone you know is aware of the You Tube video by the gentleman known as “Joe American”, and the writings and lectures by all the other names I dropped. If, by the time you‘ve brought yourself up to date on the thoughts that emanate from the minds of these few individual citizens, and compare them to the words you’ve been subjected to by your presidential candidates and representatives, you too should be sickened.

Demand they “talk to US”! That’s all we ask!

Can you imagine what an America with a plan and a rejuvenated pride in everyone’s heart would be like, instead of it all being just a memory?

Television sucks! But I am entertained by a few jewels that make the screen once in a while.

Take the guitar playing hip hop kid that sucks you into singing along with the “credit report dot com baby” jingle! What a great campaign. The kid shows up in a pirate costume for the first ad, and has a dirt level job seating people in a fish house, and then he shows up in a banged up sub compact loaded with this friends. A disappointment cause he really wanted an SUV.

What could have saved his embarrassment?

What could have prevented his ‘posse’ from getting laughed at?

Why, a free credit report of course!

Not!

It’s too late for that ‘little dude’. This endearing little moron falls into the category of every irresponsible citizen that ends up costing us all extra by not living up to their end of the bargain.

A contract is a contract. You sign it, you bind it.

What does “credit report dot com baby” have to do with bad credit? Not a thing.

It’s an ‘after the fact’ reporting service that’s merely letting you know that you’ve been a bad boy (or girl), and that you did not fulfill your promise to pay others for something you took. Note I didn’t say bought, because you didn’t buy anything, you lied to someone to make them believe you were going to pay for it. Mistaken or not, you spoke out of turn. No one but you knows what you can afford. You can’t blame a salesman, and you can’t blame the criminal credit card companies who suck you into believing you CAN afford to go deeper in debt. Only you are to blame.

Next in line come the bankruptcy attorneys constantly advertising your ability to settle debt for a fraction of the cost, and between you and me, I’m sick of all of this, and you should be as well. The reason is known to all of us. Someone is picking up this tab. The people who ARE responsible, like you and me, pick it up. The taxpayer that pays his debt on time is paying a higher taxation rate to cover the skunk that shirks his or her duty. The stable, accountable debt payer assumes the hike in interest to accommodate the flakes. It’s a sickening reality that disgusts those of us that are responsible bill payers.

Oh, and as I think about it, ‘free credit report dot com” ain’t free! You’ll get billed 14.95 to get your free report. Of course by the time you’re cool convertible wishes burst before your eyes because you’ve whacked your own credit, you should have already known better than to think you could be rollin’ phat,. babeeee!

But he is a cute kid isn’t he?

Allow me to share with you in the next couple minutes, what took 42 minutes away from my life the other day.

My mother passed away new years day and all utility providers inherited by me were informed of the same, including you, and your change in billing address proves you received the communication.

In an attempt to discover the reason behind a constant string of past due notices, I placed a call to your company. I was asked to press one for English. I, who live in the United States, was asked to press one for English. You couldn’t explain that policy decision if your life depended on it and it certainly set the premise for the result which follows shortly.

Thirteen minutes into my wait for a service operator, it became apparent that your company shouldn’t be my choice for a television signal provider. Everything ground to a halt when I couldn’t provide the last four digits of my mom’s social security number for the operator, and I was still so furious that I had to press one for English, that I asked to terminate the service. Well, I discovered that this operator just couldn’t do that, so I was given a separate number to call for my cancellation request.

Twenty minutes into my wait for the second operator, I was told that I was incorrectly connected to the bay area, and that I would have to be transferred to another locale. Eight more minutes passed before I knew that this notice was going to be forwarded thru email with a certified mail follow up.

As I slammed down the phone, Doug, one of the people in my shop uttered, “So, they won!” And I guess you did. You won by losing another individual that knows the difference between good and bad service. All we would do is ruin the smooth operation of customer abuse you have going for you.

How do I know the difference? I take great pride in the way I’ve run my businesses in life in comparison to your sham of a monopoly. That pride came back to me in an involuntary revelation brought on by the satisfaction accompanying my cancellation.

The sadness that reared its ugly head during this debacle was the realization that if my 91 year old mother would have had reason to contact your company for whatever reason, this type of laughable disrespect could have literally affected her health.

I’m sure Comcast will continue and you will prosper. There are enough people who don’t know what good service is. There are newer generations that believe box stores are examples of good service.

In the meantime Direct TV will garner a third service account from this former Comcast victim, so press one for “Bite me!”

It’s summer! The fans have been taken down from the top shelf of the linen closet. The hum of A.C. units add a new dimension to neighborhoods.

But that added overhead to existence isn’t turning out to be the anxiety of my day.

With the drop in business, and the onslaught of sweltering, the one thing that gives comfort to my daily toil approaches the counter, one of my customers. This time it’s Eva Smith, and she has another drawing to frame for her memorabilia wall. Sweet lady, and one of thousands who make my day worth it. It’s cause we’ve grown to know one another, and enjoy a giggle or two during our talk about framing across the counter.

It happens to be Friday, and Eva wanders to the back of the shop to join the crew for lunch. (Regulars know I cook every Friday).

Sitting around a table sharing food and talking is a saving grace to the daily work chores.

It’s 1PM now. People are getting up to leave, and a new customer approaches the counter. Eva and others stride past, toward the front door, I expound, “later sweetie!”

I froze for a second. First time that’s ever happened.

I self questioned a life long endearment that I’ve been sharing with my customers and friends for decades. I thought all my ‘sweeties’ were showings of friendship and true caring for people, but never to be shared with an involuntary recoil.

A short time ago all of us were subjected to Barack Obama apologizing for the use of the term. The media printed and aired it for four days and then into weekend shows, and usually, that doesn’t affect my life, but I feel extremely resentful right now.

I recall that moment when a term I use daily, stuck in my throat, and for no good reason.

I feel that for Obama to apologize for his own incident was to taint the innocent usage of the term “sweetie” by millions of people. And what about the “hey baby!” that slips out, even when I’m addressing other guys in the shop?

Yes, I resent Mr. Obama’s apology. It was the first action by him that truly affected my life. I’ve lived too long to have some politically correct Boob start apologizing for everyday endearments. Understand that, in apologizing, Mr. Obama was saying, “should you believe my use of the word intimated some form of inappropriate intent or condescension, I apologize”. That apology would have been for his own sake, not for the use of the word.

I’ll probably have that second thought periodically for awhile, but I assure you, my terms of endearment won’t change. The people surrounding me have no problem with who I am and what I stand for. That’s more than I can say about some presidential candidates.

No. I take that back. I realize now that I’m also resentful for some of the things I have come to realize he DOES stand for.

“Kay”, as she was better known, was a lifelong Yuba City resident, and 32 year employee of the J. C. Penney Co. Working in an era when women managers were unheard of, Kay Head rose to the position of ‘head cashier’ where she trained more Penney Company managers than most people work under, during their careers with Penneys. As a young boy, I recall standing on D Street hand in hand with my Mom while she wept at the sight of the Penney’s department store going up in flames.

Ted Spiropoulos, owner of Butte Gun & reloading & Ted’s sports center, both in Yuba City, and a former employee of Ray Gouge Firestone in Marysville was Moms oldest son. “Uncle Ted”, as my daughter Deidra knows him, adored his niece. Ted’s business sponsored Mom’s bowling team for years. She had the misfortune of seeing Ted precede her in death after he was transfused with tainted blood back in the eighties.

Deidra and I can’t thank enough, the long list of people who took upon themselves the duty of visiting mom regularly, allowing her to live out her entire life on her own, without the inevitable ‘fadeout at the home’. I know I’m going to miss mentioning many, but Mom’s friendship should outweigh this column mention any day. Thanks to the ‘two Marys’; Mary Agnes and Mary Ellen, neighbor Murleen Schneiter, cousin Audel Schwartz, helper around the house Marge, masseusse Brigitte, neighbor handyman Gerald, and family friend George Chan for your constant visits and dedication to my Mother.

Other family survivors also include sister Trula Karnegis and family, most especially niece Uraine Cook and her daughter Trudy, as well as Daughters in law, Carol Spiropoulos and Sheila Head.

We also offer our gratitude to the considerate doctors and nurses from Rideout Hopital. Dr Bui, my mom’s trust in your care proved to sustain her to the age of 91. Your concern and dedication empowered us all to watch over her with the hope that extended her years.

If you recall Mom, Deidra and I would like to invite you to join us for a memorial reunion at 5pm this Friday (January 11^th) at Ruthy’s restaurant in Hillcrest Plaza, Yuba City.