I liked two things when I was young - riding my bicycle and building things. I combined the two one day when I took an old wooden box (we use to get them from the grocery stores - they contained fruit and stuff), added an axle, wheels, and a metal bar to the front; bolted a bent piece of metal to the fender of my bike and voila - a cargo trailer. I carried all kinds of things in the trailer, more than once breaking the front "hitch" off the box from all the weight. We had a wooded lot at the end of the block with paths between the trees that we walked and rode on. I would pretend there were camp sites along the main path and would back my trailer into the "site" to set it up for camping. (this probably explains owning travel trailers later on in my life).
Other experiences I had in the school of self-help is when I: helped re-roof the house when I was a teenager; helped with the basement excavation; rode on the back of the motorcycle with a big grin on my face; held the wrench so the nut wouldn't turn and held the flashlight to find the missing nut; shoveled the dirt, gravel, and Portland cement into the mixer to pour the patio. I guess you can see where this is headed.
Yes, this was a different era than today - before computers and crazy people roaming the streets (not certain about that last one though). And yes, I did walk a mile to school in the snow, uphill both ways. Blah, blah, blah... Hey, I'm blogging. I can't be that old or behind the times!
So growing up in a do-it-yourself environment gave me a great foundation. Another lesson was added to the curriculum when we (my dad and I) became involved in the local and national Corvair car club -
It wasn't long before a fellow from up the street stopped by the house when he spotted our Corvairs in the driveway. At this point we only had two. He let us know about the local Corvair club and invited us to attend a meeting. It was right before they were hosting a national convention at the Red Lion Inn near the Airport. So we went to the meeting and the convention and we were hooked. They had a car show around the fountain at the Seattle Center, and a rally around Mt. Rainier, and an autocross in Bellevue. Anyway, after the convention we attended meetings and became friends with club members. Dad ran for club Treasurer (was coaxed into running, I should say) and I helped him keep the books. Later I ran for and became treasurer, then board member, then club president, then newsletter editor..... all good learning experiences for a teenager. Running meetings; putting on events; handling bank accounts; etc. I stayed active in the club from 1975 until 2002 when we left the area. During that time I made many friends and acquaintances. I also learned many useful skills including how to organize weekend events that included hotel accommodations, banquets, raffles, car shows, economy runs, etc. I (we) put together day long rallies and tours, and coordinated with other clubs on camping trips, car shows, how-to clinics, and much, much more.
Along the way I met some very smart people. Oh, not necessarily well educated, but smart as in "I can do that". I've known engineers who didn't get an engineering degree in school, but worked their way into the profession by proving that they could get the job done. I've met people with lots of education who couldn't replace a light bulb if their life depended on it. But they might be great investors or leaders.
The ones I enjoyed being around the most were the ones who would share their knowledge and experience. Maybe they would include me on some of their projects. As a person who learns by listening, and by attending as many social events as possible, the club was an absolute gold mine of information to absorb. I learned to do things that many (most) people would think should be left only to "professionals". I'm sorry, and I mean no disrespect, but how much schooling does a person take to learn how to replace a toilet? It's two bolts, a hose, and a wax seal. Done.
I know, I know. Not everyone can replace a toilet. Not everyone should even TRY to replace a toilet. But think about it for a while before calling the "professional toilet replacer". Really - two bolts, a hose, and a wax seal. And new toilets usually come with instructions!
The car club was great (there will be more on this another day), and so was my involvement in music. Even before joining band in the fifth grade, my mother had purchased a Wurlitzer organ when I was in the third grade, and I HAD to take lessons. I didn't last too long at it (she kept hogging the organ), but it made joining the school band easier since I already knew how to read music to some degree. Clarinet was my instrument (my mother loved Pete Fountain).
As anyone who has been in a school band knows, you really lead a different life than your non-band schoolmates. Practice time (which I really never did much of, even though I was usually in the top half of my section), concerts, playing at football and basketball games. In high school it was marching at football games, participating in area parades, band trips to other cities - what an opportunity to learn. In community college I was in the first pep band they ever had for their basketball team, and once led the band during a game that was broadcast on radio! Then at the UofW as a member of the Husky Marching Band, performing in front of 40,000+ home field fans, but also going on trips to Spokane, Standford, Cal, Oregon, Oregon State, plus the bowl games the football team earned - 2 Rose Bowls in Pasadena CA and the Sun Bowl in El Paso TX, with all of the performances and tours that go along with those events.
Even with the car club, the marching band, and the occasional job (more on those another time), I somehow had time to join the local Community Band. We practiced on Monday nights at a local high school and performed at retirement homes and shopping malls during the holidays - or whenever someone would let us in their door! Significantly, I was elected president of the band committee the year the long-time director decided to retire (with no warning). The significant part will be apparent shortly. We found a new director from one of the members, who was also a high school music teacher, so the band played on without interruption. But with the new director I realized there was an opportunity for invigorating the members. The old director was considered harsh by some people, and many of the people who came to the band to give it a try were intimidated by him and never returned. Luckily, we kept a sign-in sheet of these "guests" So during our summer break, I composed a letter and mailed it to these former guests inviting them to give the band another try and see how they liked our new director. I don't remember specifics, but I do know that the band grew the next year and still flourishes to this day.
By this time I was playing alto sax, along with bass clarinet and whatever else they needed to fill a hole in the instrumentation. One of my fellow sax players invited me along to play in a dance band he was playing in, and I eventually joined their group as 2nd alto. They played big band music, which I have always loved, and played for the Elks, private parties, and similar events. And we got paid! Not enough to quit the day job, but enough to have fun.
OK, now the significant part.
One of the "guests" who decided to give the community band another try was a trumpet player from the area. We'll call her Tina. It took me a few months to notice, but one day during a Christmas concert we were giving at the community center, I looked down the hall and went WOW! Tina was wearing a red dress with black polka dots. I guess she noticed my reaction, and we started dating. To make a long story short, we were engaged in February and married in June. She also joined the dance band (they played at our wedding) and 22 years later we still have her trumpet and my alto sax, albeit in the closet gathering dust, but still ready to play a tune.
OK, I may have digressed a little from my original train of thought. But this has been the story of how I have laid a part of the foundation that has made me who I am. Next....
THE JOBS!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
Tooting My Horn
Ok, so what has all this listening and watching and learning done for me?
I started to (re)read journal entries made about our move across the country in 2002 (see justchoosesomething.blogspot.com ) and was amazed at 3 things: 1) we had the energy to do all of that; 2) the number of "fix-it" things I did 3) our dogs have been getting us up before 6 am for all of these years (and still do). An example from the first day -
The truck (1989 Ford F250 diesel) breaks down just after climbing the hill from Vantage on I-90 on our way to Moses Lake (towing a 30' travel trailer). Problem: cracked fuel injector line. Solution: happened to have a spare in the tool box so I changed it on the side of the road and we were on our way in about 40 minutes. Why I had a spare I cannot remember. All I will say is that in the last 38+ years of driving I have only been stranded once, and that was in a new car when the computer crashed (that's progress?).
I'm guessing that most people would have simply gotten on their cell phone, called the tow truck, and cancelled the trip, not to mention spending a whole lot of money in the process. I didn't have to because I had been learning from a young age how to do things, and one of those things was working on cars.
My earliest memories of my "training" start with helping my dad around the house. He lived the other American dream - never had the money to do a project unless he worked overtime, and by working overtime never had the time to do the project. But somehow he managed both.
The small rambler style house they had built in 1955 was 2 bedroom and 1 bath. That was ok in 1955 because they only had my sister. Then I came along. And my sister didn't want to share the bedroom forever. Nowadays people would just sell the house and move to a bigger one. I guess back then that was not an option, so the folks decided to add a room on to the back of the house. About the same time they converted the 1 car garage into a rec-room. These were both before I was sentient, but the point is that dad was a do-it-yourself kind of guy. He wasn't in the construction business (licensed airline mechanic) but knew enough people to ask the right questions about what he needed to know to get things done. Later on, when I was in the helping stage of my life, he converted the carport (previously added next to the converted rec-room) into a two car garage; poured a concrete driveway; dug out a basement - by hand - so that the furnace could be put downstairs instead of the hall closet; and a whole lot more.
If this looks like a tribute to my dad, well I guess it is. Just 27 years too late.
So I guess you see I had a pretty good chance to learn how to do things. And I am so grateful that I took advantage of that opportunity.
Not to mention that when I was 14 we got into cars - specifically Corvairs. Being an airplane mechanic, dad found the Corvair engine to be similar to small aircraft engines that he had worked on. Plus, Corvairs were cheap at the time. My car-to-be was a $50 body, a $25 junkyard engine, and a $75 parts car that was all put together so that when I got my licence at 16 I would have car to drive. Little did we know how that car would change both our lives and give me a chance to learn even more about how things worked - and so much, much more.
I started to (re)read journal entries made about our move across the country in 2002 (see justchoosesomething.blogspot.com ) and was amazed at 3 things: 1) we had the energy to do all of that; 2) the number of "fix-it" things I did 3) our dogs have been getting us up before 6 am for all of these years (and still do). An example from the first day -
The truck (1989 Ford F250 diesel) breaks down just after climbing the hill from Vantage on I-90 on our way to Moses Lake (towing a 30' travel trailer). Problem: cracked fuel injector line. Solution: happened to have a spare in the tool box so I changed it on the side of the road and we were on our way in about 40 minutes. Why I had a spare I cannot remember. All I will say is that in the last 38+ years of driving I have only been stranded once, and that was in a new car when the computer crashed (that's progress?).
I'm guessing that most people would have simply gotten on their cell phone, called the tow truck, and cancelled the trip, not to mention spending a whole lot of money in the process. I didn't have to because I had been learning from a young age how to do things, and one of those things was working on cars.
My earliest memories of my "training" start with helping my dad around the house. He lived the other American dream - never had the money to do a project unless he worked overtime, and by working overtime never had the time to do the project. But somehow he managed both.
The small rambler style house they had built in 1955 was 2 bedroom and 1 bath. That was ok in 1955 because they only had my sister. Then I came along. And my sister didn't want to share the bedroom forever. Nowadays people would just sell the house and move to a bigger one. I guess back then that was not an option, so the folks decided to add a room on to the back of the house. About the same time they converted the 1 car garage into a rec-room. These were both before I was sentient, but the point is that dad was a do-it-yourself kind of guy. He wasn't in the construction business (licensed airline mechanic) but knew enough people to ask the right questions about what he needed to know to get things done. Later on, when I was in the helping stage of my life, he converted the carport (previously added next to the converted rec-room) into a two car garage; poured a concrete driveway; dug out a basement - by hand - so that the furnace could be put downstairs instead of the hall closet; and a whole lot more.
If this looks like a tribute to my dad, well I guess it is. Just 27 years too late.
So I guess you see I had a pretty good chance to learn how to do things. And I am so grateful that I took advantage of that opportunity.
Not to mention that when I was 14 we got into cars - specifically Corvairs. Being an airplane mechanic, dad found the Corvair engine to be similar to small aircraft engines that he had worked on. Plus, Corvairs were cheap at the time. My car-to-be was a $50 body, a $25 junkyard engine, and a $75 parts car that was all put together so that when I got my licence at 16 I would have car to drive. Little did we know how that car would change both our lives and give me a chance to learn even more about how things worked - and so much, much more.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Listen and Learn
All of my life I have been a good listener. A good listener learns a lot. Some have called me a "Jack of all Trades and a Master of None". I don't know about that last part, but I do know that I am comfortable around people of many professions and I can do the work of many people. And I credit much of it to listening. I always enjoyed people who talked excitedly about a project they were working on and how they did this and how they did that. It's details I like the most. Not bragging about getting something new or how they did something "fantastic", but sharing about how they did something that they found challenging, or they did because they could and because it needed to be done. Or an experience they had that few others would have the opportunity to have. They would answer questions I asked and sometimes would ask me to work with them on future projects.
I also listened to people's problems. It's amazing how few problems you have yourself when you hear others talk about their lives. Sometimes I don't know how or why they live their lives the way they do. But I guess it helps them to talk about it, so I do my part in helping.
But now I'm done! It use to be that when people engaged in a conversation they would talk a bit, then listen a bit, and then talk some more. Now it seems that people only want to TALK and TALK and TALK. They never stop talking long enough for someone like myself - polite and courteous - to get a word in edgewise. I blame a lot of it on caffeine. I don't drink products with caffeine very often, but everyone else wakes up in the morning and downs a gallon of Mountain Dew. They think they need it to "get going". Maybe they should try sleeping instead. And exercise! Wait, that's another topic. Back to listening and talking.
I am amazed at how people think that conversation should only include topics about themselves. Maybe they think I'm not really paying attention and that I too think only of myself so that whatever they say will be replaced by my own selfish self-hype. Oh boy, are they wrong. For one thing, they never let me get my thoughts out because they interrupt me when I do try to say something. And that just makes me close up and tune them out. Seems that the older I get the more honest I get with my feelings, so I no longer consider it rude to just walk away from someone when I figure out that they are only talking to me to so that they can brag about themselves, and that they really couldn't care less about me.
Anyway, this blog is my chance to share MY stories and experiences. You can close this anytime you want, but I hope you find some of it interesting and informative. Let me know.
Thanks.
I also listened to people's problems. It's amazing how few problems you have yourself when you hear others talk about their lives. Sometimes I don't know how or why they live their lives the way they do. But I guess it helps them to talk about it, so I do my part in helping.
But now I'm done! It use to be that when people engaged in a conversation they would talk a bit, then listen a bit, and then talk some more. Now it seems that people only want to TALK and TALK and TALK. They never stop talking long enough for someone like myself - polite and courteous - to get a word in edgewise. I blame a lot of it on caffeine. I don't drink products with caffeine very often, but everyone else wakes up in the morning and downs a gallon of Mountain Dew. They think they need it to "get going". Maybe they should try sleeping instead. And exercise! Wait, that's another topic. Back to listening and talking.
I am amazed at how people think that conversation should only include topics about themselves. Maybe they think I'm not really paying attention and that I too think only of myself so that whatever they say will be replaced by my own selfish self-hype. Oh boy, are they wrong. For one thing, they never let me get my thoughts out because they interrupt me when I do try to say something. And that just makes me close up and tune them out. Seems that the older I get the more honest I get with my feelings, so I no longer consider it rude to just walk away from someone when I figure out that they are only talking to me to so that they can brag about themselves, and that they really couldn't care less about me.
Anyway, this blog is my chance to share MY stories and experiences. You can close this anytime you want, but I hope you find some of it interesting and informative. Let me know.
Thanks.
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