Posts Tagged old man

Flashlight Duty

There were times I literally lived in fear of my dad. At the time, it wasn’t fun, and it darn sure wasn’t funny, but now, looking back, some of the things that took place were a bit humorous in a terrifying sort of way. This is one of them: Read the rest of this entry »

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The Grouchy Old Man

This is a true story. It happened in the summer of 1998 when Sherry and I lived in Pflugerville. It was a dawning of the ages, I suspect. I hope it brings a smile to your face; it does mine, every time I read it.

The Grouchy Old Man

Was not long ago this happenin’ happent

On a Saturday as I best recall

Out the window I saw some kids in a tree

And thought, what if they should fall

Stepped out the front door and in a gruff tone

Said, you kids get outta that tree

Their eyes got all bugged & they fell like ripe fruit

Then ran off as fast as could be

They ran down that street lickety split

Like the devil himself had roared

I chuckled and watched ‘em high tailin’

And then thought to myself, oh Lord

The wife had come out to check on the fuss

And saw the kids as they fled the scene

She saw the strange grin I had on my face

And said, dear are you being mean

Well, alas, my dear, seems I’ve finally done it

She asked, what is that, my sweet

I replied with a sigh, I’ve gone and become

That grouchy old man down the street

Copyright © 1998 C. Mashburn                       

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Precious Memories

My cousin Ed and I spent a lot of time together when we were kids and he’s like a brother to me. Of course, we live too far apart, and I don’t get to spend much time with him anymore, but life is what it is. Ed emailed me yesterday, with the sad news that his dog had died; she was only eight, and it was sudden and unexpected. Ed asked me if I could write a poem about her, and the following is what I came up with. Ed likes it, and I hope you enjoy it, too. You might want to have a tissue handy. Read the rest of this entry »

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Eeeyeent Eenk!

I can still recall the driving trips with the family, and I have to tell you about this one time where I inadvertently tried to drive the old man crazy. I was young, maybe six or seven, and was riding in the back seat of our Ford Fairlane. This was back when smoking was cool, and not something folks got dirty looks for, like they do these days. At any rate, there were ashtrays on the armrests of both the back doors; little metal jobs, that you could pull out of the armrest to empty. When you opened and closed the ashtray, it made a little squeaking noise kind of like, “eeeyeent” when you opened it, and “eenk” when you closed it. Read the rest of this entry »

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Just Like His Grandpa!

My two grandsons played their first high school football game of the season Friday. One, Trevor, is a senior, and his younger brother, Nathan, is a sophomore. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Grouchy Old Man

This is a true story. It happened in the summer of 1998 when Sherry and I lived in Pflugerville. It was a dawning of the ages, I suspect. I hope it brings a smile to your face; it does mine, every time I read it. I’m posting it for The Purple Treehouse Blog’s Funny Bunny Friday. Read the rest of this entry »

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Killin’ Time!

Another story from my logging days has been stuck in my head all these years. The hook tender on this occasion was a guy who’d been dubbed, “Killer.” He was about five-foot-six, and weighed probably two hundred pounds, and most of those pounds were rock-hard muscle. He was known throughout the Mt. Rainier area as a street-fighter you didn’t want to tangle with. Naturally, none of us on the crew gave him any lip. Read the rest of this entry »

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A Man Among Men

Now surely y’all don’t think this is a story about me! No, sir, this one is another quick note about my logging days, but I’m nowhere near the top of anyone’s list compared to the guy it’s about. It’s just a short short story, so take a look if you have time. I’m pretty sure Ol’ “Bing” would like it if ya do. Read the rest of this entry »

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The “Old Man” and the Tree

High-lead logging in the northwest is an extremely hard way to make a living, and most of the men who did it back when I did were young–in the eighteen to twenty-five range. An out-of-shape old man was not expected to survive long at the job. Read the rest of this entry »

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Those Dreaded Friday Night Lights

I posted stories the last three days that spoke of my dad and the fear he instilled in me. I spoke of it in a lighthearted manner, but it was not actually so. I won’t go into great detail, but I will say my childhood was at times horrifying. This story will give you a glimpse into what it was like too much of the time. I won’t speak often of this. Read the rest of this entry »

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