RRN Online Volume 304

March 30 '02

Volume 304

Losing It But Not Completely

If there was one thing that To Do would produce in my mild-mannered dad that which Mama called a "hissy fit," it would be for him to need something, look for it, and it could not be found where he'd left it.

"Somebody's moved it," he'd declare. "It's not in this drawer."

"It" represented almost anything and could have been his fiddle rosin, a sales receipt, a wrench, or other item, and "drawer" is used euphemistically to represent "its" last known whereabouts. The item may have had monetary value or not, it didn't matter. If it was missing, it was important that it be found.

None of us ever kept track of how many times it turned out the missing item had been moved by Dad and he'd just forgotten about it until he found it, nor did we mark the times he never admitted to having moved it himself. Records of such occurrences were not important at the time. Since Dad died a few months prior to his sixty-ninth birthday, we didn't figure he was old enough to be "losing it," when something came up missing.

There is a major difference between "losing stuff" (or simply misplacing it), and in "losing it" with the latter having to do with failing mental health. I choose to believe, that I'm still in the losing stuff phase of life, but occasionally wonder about my mental faculties.

I've come to appreciate Dad's exasperation over something deemed misplaced. Had I inherited the temper of either my dad or Granddaddy Hayden Carter, I'd have disposed of my son long ago for his ability to use one of my tools and not put it back where he got it or worse to loose it completely. Sometime, ask Jason where his pellet gun is, or the ceramic heater I once kept in my bathroom, or my Buck Folding Hunter, a knife prized by every sportsman, and if you really want to get under his skin, ask about Felicia's electronic keyboard. I'm talking about the world prior to "ebay" or I'd guess he sold them on the Internet.

Rayanne is better at keeping my stuff than is Jason, but whenever she comes over to rearrange a room or two, something of mine always comes up missing, and more often than not it got relocated by my daughter. My wife, too, is guilty of moving my stuff, but in most cases she remembers where she put it. Of course, I have inherited my dad's penchant for misplacing things and have only myself to blame sometimes, but that occurs less often than one might imagine.

I'm still trying to find the pair of slipcases that arrived near the end of 2001, for this year's National Geographic magazines. Rayanne was tidying up my desk before Aunt Jo's birthday celebration and upon seeing an "exposed" recent issue of National Geographic asked where the 2002 slipcases were. They have not been located as of this writing. Furthermore, in the bookcases in our bedroom, where most of my forty-four years of National Geographics reside, the years 83-86 are missing. I discovered this while preparing the article on the "Afghan Girl" and wanted to reread the June 1985 issue. My first thoughts were that Rayanne had used them for props in another room, but when that did not pan out, I figured they might still be boxed from a prior move. If that's the case, it'll be a while before they turn up.

A side benefit to searching for lost stuff is one often finds something else that too was misplaced. For instance, while searching the cabinets below the bedroom bookcases, I opened a box and discovered my prized collection of Coca-Cola bottles. I only have a handful of them, some of which are commemorative, but the really prized ones are the six-ounce, green-glassed classics with "the real thing" still in the bottle. I needed one of them last year to prove to Jason that Coke bottles once had six-ounces of product as opposed to the eight ounces he thought they had. The biggest psychological difference between Jason and me is that faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I will admit to being wrong. Jason won't. Now, when I show him the six-ounce bottles, he'll have to agree that Dad was right.

For a number of years, I've worn dental appliances known as partials. Before having fixed bridges installed to replace my lower partials, I had both upper and lower partials. My last major, and I do mean major, dental expenditure left me pocket poor but orally rich with bridges, crowns, and partials. I now have only six teeth that are completely natural.

Most folks who've lived with a family member that had false teeth have a good story or two dealing with teeth. In Dad's case, (I digress from the "losing it" thought, and if I know I am digressing, then perhaps the reader will understand that I'm not "losing it.") he had years earlier dropped his upper plate and broken off a piece that contained one tooth, either before I was born or else not old enough to know what had happened. He never had it repaired, as he could fit it all back together and eat and talk naturally with the tightly fitting broken piece hardly noticeable. I often heard him comment on his broken tooth by telling that Mama had once knocked it out. It was an untruth of the first order, but he delighted in embarrassing Mama by telling it.

My parents were active in church life while we lived in Iuka, but took a hiatus for the six or so months we lived in Starkville, then returned to active duty when we moved to Okolona. Mom was active in the WMU and occasionally the "Circle" she belonged to met at our house. I remember being in a rocking chair in the living room, rocking quietly, listening to the women, also seated in the living room, talking. I would have been either eight or nine years of age at the time. Somehow, the subject of teeth came up, and in the ensuing conversation, Mom mentioned Dad's broken tooth.

When I heard her version of how the upper plate got broken, I felt justified in exclaiming, "Humph, Mama knocked it out."

Mom said I never missed a rhythmic rock, no hint of a smile crossed the lips of my serious face, and she was as she put it, "embarrassed to her toes." I remember all the women laughing at what I had said as Mama sought to explain my remark, but I don't know how many of the circle ladies left that day wondering who told the real truth.

I don't have a broken partial or a humorous story about my teeth to pass on to my children and grandchildren, but they might find it funny that I sometimes forget to put in my upper partial before leaving for work. While we lived in Greenville, I forgot my partial a few times in my rush to get to Indianola before 8:00 a.m. As a rule of thumb, I wouldn't go back to the house for it if I had passed through Leland, but once I turned around in Leland and went back to get it.

Forgetting my upper partial is not a regular occurrence and I'd guess it happened no more than a half-dozen times while we lived in Greenville. However, this past week, I checked out of a motel without my full set of teeth. After eating breakfast that morning I returned to my room to brush my teeth before checking out. In my haste to depart, I left the partial in a plastic cup in the bathroom. I was about five minutes departed when I unconsciously ran my tongue across the roof of my mouth and discovered something was missing. It did occur to me that I might be "losing it," as I'd never left part of my teeth in a motel room, though I have been known to leave Cross pens, rings, and my hanging clothes behind and have to turn around and drive back to retrieve them. Fortunately, my forgetfulness has never resulted in losing any of the above and I found my teeth right where I'd left them.

Signs of my "losing it" seem to occur more frequently with each passing year. Given my past position on persons smoking in the workplace or in restaurants, some readers may have assumed I've already lost it in their reading of last week's article on the rights of smokers. If I have really have lost it, then readers may look for more reversals of opinion in the future.

Roll Wipes A Personal Choice

Allow me to go on record as stating the new Kleenex product called "Roll Wipes" will be a colossal flop. I'll give the company credit for a great idea, but I don't think the necessary technology has been developed to sustain the idea.

In case one has not seen or heard of Roll Wipes, they are somewhat similar to "baby wipes," the pre-moistened towelettes so named for their usefulness in cleaning a baby's bottom. However, Roll Wipes are for adults or persons old enough to care for themselves.

I remember first seeing the Roll Wipes, complete with a specially designed bathroom dispenser, in a Wall Mart store.

My reaction was something along the lines of "What'll they think of next?"

The next time I saw the product was in a Sunflower store in Weir, MS. Weir is pronounced "ware" and not as "weird" without the "d."

The storeowner is a friend as well as a customer of mine. As we walked by a display of the new contraptions, I asked if he had installed one of the dispensers in his home.

He said that he had not and then surprised me by asking if I wanted one. I was hesitant in responding and did not realize he was serious until he said he might as well give them away, since they were not selling. Not wanting to offend a customer by refusing the offer, and since it did not have enough monetary value to compromise the ethical "Code of Conduct" I am required to sign each year, I accepted the gift.

Mounting the device in my bathroom was no problem and was easily fitted onto the existing tissue dispenser. Its design allows both towelettes and regular bathroom tissue to be dispensed from a single fixture. So, for ease of installation, ergonomic design, and neutral color allowing it to be incorporated into practically all color schemes, I'd rate the dispenser itself as excellent.

The towelettes themselves are satisfactory in that they deliver as expected. However, the towelettes rapidly lose moisture when exposed to air, and the dispenser is not airtight. Since a portion of the towelette is normally left sticking out a slit in the dispenser, it quickly dries. I would recommend the first such sheet out of the dispenser be discarded each time Roll Wipes are needed. Frugality has no place in the toilet, unless one is into masochism.

We're almost finished with the first roll of a four-roll starter pack that came with the dispenser. Next week, I'll be taking down the dispenser and donating the remaining three rolls of Roll Wipes for my daughter to use in lieu of baby wipes on Katherine.

Meanwhile, I'll stick to the tried and true in hopes that the folks at Kleenex come up with a plan to keep Roll Wipes from drying out overnight.

Where's RRN Been Send Us Your Picture

Where has your Ridge Rider News been? Have your picture made holding a copy of RRN near a landmark or sign identifying your location, send the photo to us, and we'll publish it in the next issue. One copy made it to Orange Beach in Gulfshores, Al.

The Adams Family - Clockwise from top left: Rayanne, Katherine, Anson, Anna, Merilese.

Bodock Beau It's Worse Than We Thought

Some folks are worse off than we first expected. The following examples should verify this.

The other day I was in the local auto part store. A lady comes in and asks for a seven ten cap.

We all looked at each other and said, "What's a seven ten cap?"

She said "You know, it's right on the engine. Mine got lost some how and I need a new one."

"What kind of a car is it on," they asked? Now I'm thinking maybe an old Datsun Seven Ten, but no, she said it's a Buick.

"OK lady, how big is it?" She makes a circle with her hands about 3 1/2 inches in diameter.

"What does it do?," we asked. She said, "I don't know but it's always been there." One of us gave her a note pad and asked her if she could draw a
picture of it. So she makes a circle about 3 1/2 inches in diameter and in the center she writes 710.

The guys behind the counter are looking at it upside down as she writes it...and they just fall down behind the counter laughing so hard in hysterics.

One guy said " I think you want an oil cap."

She said, "Seven Ten cap, oil cap, I don't care what you call it, I just need one, and I don't see what is so damn funny about it."

Yes, she was a blonde.

Note: Read "710" upside down.

Submitted by Lisa B. Rolik

How Do These Folks Survive?

At McDonald's I saw on the menu that you could have an order of 6, 9, or 12 Chicken McNuggets. I asked for a half dozen nuggets.

"We don't have half dozen nuggets," said the teenager at the counter.

"You don't?" I replied.

"We only have six, nine, or twelve," was the reply.

"So I can't order a half-dozen nuggets, but I can order six?"

"That's right."

I shook my head and ordered six McNuggets.

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The paragraph above doesn't amaze me because of what happened a couple of months ago.

I was checking out at the local Foodland with just a few items and the lady behind me put her things on the belt close to mine. I picked up one of those "Dividers" that they keep by the cash register and placed it between our things so they wouldn't get mixed.

After the girl had scanned all of my items, she picked up the "Divider" looking it all over for the bar code so she could scan it.

Not finding the bar code she said to me "Do you know how much this is?" and I said to her "I've changed my mind, I don't think I'll buy that today."

She said "OK" and I paid her for the things and left. She had no clue as to what had just happened.....

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I was in a car dealership a while ago, when a large motor home was towed into the garage. The front of the vehicle was in dire need of repair and the whole thing generally looked like an extra in "Twister." I asked the manager what had happened. He told me that the driver had set the "cruise control" and then went in the back to make a sandwich.

Submitted by Powell Prewett Jr.

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