"From my heart and from my hand why don't people understand my intentions?" -- Danny Elfman

It has been two weeks or so since my last post.  Sorry about that.  Truth be known, there hasn't been much for me to say.  I have been completely immersed in reality with a sane state of mind which really tends to get me down.  Unfortunately, I still feel sane but have forced myself to return here and at least type a few bits and pieces in an effort to stir some creativity before my favorite holiday arrives.

I have said many times that Halloween IS and will remain my favorite day of the year.  It is the one day when many of us open our minds to the fantastic and allow our imaginations to flow.  We allow our fears to manifest themselves and intentionally look for ways to scare ourselves silly.  Most importantly, above all else, there is CANDY.   No cards to send, no gifts to buy, no poorly cooked meals to suffer through, nor do we have to tolerate those annoying relatives we see but once a year.  We just hand out candy hoping there will be some left over for us at the end of the night.

In preparation of Halloween, I presented myself a small gift.  I returned to Stone Mountain Park over the past weekend, camping in my tent, so I might take the Ghost Story Tour once more.  Was it cold?  Damn skippy it was cold with the temps dropping to just above freezing at night.  It rained all day Saturday and as usual, the weather was sunny and warm as we packed to leave.  The tour, however, was wonderful.  Not so much the stories themselves but to listen to some of the best story tellers was a breath of fresh air.

It never fails to thrill me when someone has the talent to weave a good yarn.  As writers, we work hard to select the right words and put them in the correct order, sometimes rewriting a sentence or paragraph over and over, trying to get it right.  A story teller has but one chance to get it right.  Stumbling over words or back tracking only ruins the experience for the listener or worse, makes the story hard to follow.

There is one man on the tour, an older gentleman, whose ghost stories always have a humorous conclusion.  He is a true master of his craft as he knows how to draw each person into his world very quickly.  I admire him and hope to one day be able to match his talent.

As for the rest of the weekend, the park was also hosting Highland Games that weekend.  The sound of bagpipes being played at the lake's edge so the sound reverberates across the entire park will give you goosepimples.  That is until an hour later, it begins to rake on your nerves.  After four hours, I understood why the Normans hated the Scotts.  Additionally, I have no idea why they all felt the need to wear kilts around the camp ground.  Did they go true Scottish while wearing the kilts?  I don't know, I didn't want to know and I sure as hell didn't ask.

Botolf

I used to share this story a lot with customers and new technicians when it came to charging labor.

A young man is driving across the desert when his car starts running rough.  There is no sign of civilization as he continues down the highway, praying the car will make it to his destination and not leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere.  Several miles along, the car is still running rough and the young man is getting worried that he may be struck in the middle of the desert over night.  As he crest a small ridge, he sees and old shack with two gas pumps out front on the side of the highway.  Thanking God for his good fortune, he prays there is a mechanic there.

He pulls up to the shack and sees an older man, sitting in a rocking chair and sipping lemonade.  The young man gets out of the car and says "Excuse me sir, is there someone here who can help me with my car?"

The old man rises and offers to take a look.  He first listens to the engine idling, then opens the hood...looking first to the left than to the right.  "I'll be right back", he says and heads off to his garage.  He returns momentarily with a small hammer in hand, leans over the engine and makes a light "tap" somewhere near the firewall.

The engine immediately runs as smooth as silk.

The young man is ecstatic that the repair was so simple.  He asks the older man "How much do I owe you?"

Without batting an eye, the old man responds "That'll be $89.99".

"WHAT!", exclaims the young man.  "90 bucks for hitting it with a hammer!?"

"No son, it's 99 cents for the hammer tap...and $89 dollars for knowing WHERE to tap it."

When it comes to doing something we have no knowledge in or something we dread doing ourselves, we fear the worse and expect to pay a fair price for someone else to do it.  However, when the "professional" makes it look easy, we tend to regret our decision and challenge the idea of what it was worth.  It is my experience that the professionals make what they do look easy but this is usually due to huge amounts of training, skill and experience.  If the old man had instead said "Your EGR valve is stuck" rather than just tapping it with a hammer, what would it be worth then? 

So the moral of the story is simply this.  It is not what you do that is worth much, it is what you know about what you're doing that is worth a fortune.

Botolf

Its Friday and Ed is coming home from work in a really good mood.  He had completed a major project at work, his paycheck is in the bank, the sun is out and even radio station is playing many of his favorite songs all in a row.  On his way to his house he decides to stop and buy a scratch off lottery ticket.  He approaches the door to his favorite lottery retailer humming the last song he heard on the radio and holds the door open for another man going into the same store.

The other gentleman heads straight to the counter "Hmmm, I don't play the lottery much.  Which card should I buy?"  He rubs his chin in contemplation for a few moments while Ed waits behind him.  The attendant became impatient and looked over the gentleman's shoulder toward Ed.

Ed took the que and said "I'll take an Emerald 8 card."

The other gentleman suddenly spoke up "That sounds good, give me an Emerald 8 card as well".

The attendant, rolled his eyes and handed the gentleman his card "That'll be $10"

"That's a little more than I wanted to spend...here."  The gentleman stepped over to the side.

The attendant took the man's money, looked at Ed and shook his head sympathetically for having to wait behind the indecisive man.  Ed placed a 10 on the counter and the attendant handed Ed his ticket "Good luck!"

From behind him, Ed heard the other man exclaim "OH MY GOD, I THINK I'VE WON!"

The attendant looked at the man and asked "How much? I can pay off any card up to $600."

"NO, I THINK I'VE WON!"

"Yes sir, I know but there are hundreds of different amounts most of which I can pay."

"HERE, my hands are shaking but I don't think you can pay this!"

"Oh...my........Sir, you'll have to take this to the regional office.  They will be closed by the time you get there today but they will be open tomorrow until 1pm.  Here is a copy of directions and their phone number.  Just be sure to sign your ticket.  Here's a pen."

The man looked at Ed, grabbed his hand and forearm and began to shake them vigorously.  "Thankyou so much.  If you hadn't said what ticket you were going to buy, I never would have paid that much for a ticket."  The man turned, signed his name to the ticket, tucked it into his pocket and headed out the door.  "Thanks again!"

Ed looked over at the attendant.  "Do I even want to know?"

"$500,000.  Check your ticket.  Maybe you won something too."

"No.  I think I'll just take this home, hand it to my wife and not ever speak a word of this."

Ed drove home trying not to think about what had happened.  He greeted his wife in the kitchen and handed her the lottery card.

"What in the world possessed you to get one of these?"

"Oh, I was just feeling lucky today and thought I would get one.  Maybe we'll win some big prize."

"Honey, nobody around here ever wins these things.  Why, I don't even think you have a chance of being in the same room with someone who won more than a few dollars off of these tickets."

"You're right hon.  What are the odds."

Botolf