Ya Know...

Sometimes I'll get hit with this feeling out of the blue: I miss my grandpa. I don't think about him a whole lot anymore, but that's true of all of us who've lost loved ones. Even though you loved that person very dearly, you eventually move on.

That's what made this so poignant. I was at work, and it just popped into my head. I wish Buck were here. Not here at work. You know what I mean. It wasn't anything in particular. Just a sudden, strong feeling.

My favorite story about him is from over twenty years ago. Our street started off as the private drive of one of our neighbors, until it was annexed by the county. Our neighbor, Mickey (yes, Mickey), was trying to put up a gate so no one could use the road. Buck told him that if Mickey put up the gate, Buck would tie it to his truck and pull it down. They start arguing, until Buck picks up a shovel and says, "I think you best get off my lawn."

I miss my grandpa.

Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Market

Okay.  This is a work story.  I don’t especially like telling work stories, certainly not here, but this is funny, so I’ll make an exception.

We had just finished unloading a Frozen/Dairy truck (which entails pulling 2000-pound pallets across the store to one freezer or another), and I’m headed back up to my work area.  When I get there, one of the Assistant Managers, Daniel, is signing off on the Produce checklist.  He asks me if I would mind going back to Grocery Receiving and grabbing a clipboard from Marilyn’s workstation (the Claims/Receiving desk).  It’s the only clipboard back there, he says, with the date 10/19 on it.  Then he says something about crunchy French bread.

I say sure, I’ll go back and get it.  I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with the crunchy French bread.

When I get back to Marilyn’s desk, I have no trouble finding the clipboard.  I don’t see any crunchy bread, French or otherwise, so I ask one of the Support Managers, Fritz, if he knows anything.  He points to the back hall leading to my department.  It’s to the left, he says.  I walk up the hall, keeping my eyes peeled for any crunchy French bread on the left.  I see nothing.  I shrug and keep walking.

When I reach produce, I see no sign of Daniel.  I ask Michael if he had seen where he went.  Michael points past Produce, to Bakery.  So I go to Bakery.  Once again, no sign of Daniel.  So I ask Jerry, who is doing the closing clean-up.  Jerry points over his shoulder.  He went through that door, he says.  I don’t know which direction, just that he went out through that door.

I’m still holding the clipboard, unsure what to do with it.  Should I leave it in Produce in case Daniel comes back?  Or should I page Daniel and ask him what he wants me to do with it?  I have given up on the crunchy French bread.

Finally, I just decide to go back to Grocery Receiving.  If Fritz is still back there, I’ll ask him.  Sure enough, ol’ Fritz is still there.  I hold up the clipboard and tell him Daniel had wanted something done with it, and did he (Fritz) know what that was.  Where is this clipboard supposed to go? 

Oh, he says, that goes on Marilyn’s desk.

Ba-dum bum.

Lost and Found

What kinds of things do you usually leave at Wal-Mart? Maybe you leave your pen on the counter. Maybe you forget to pick up a bag as you leave the checkout lane. On a really bad day, maybe you leave your purse or wallet or whatever in the shopping cart. Many, many things you could leave behind. But some things you would remember. For instance, you wouldn't be likely to leave your child, right?

Right?

Your heir, your legacy, your progeny, your scion. The person who decides whether or not you go to the nursing home. You wouldn't leave your helpless, infant child all alone as you LEAVE THE STORE. Would you?

I didn't think so.

But someone did today.

Today, a lone child was found (appropriately/ironically enough) in the Infants department at Wal-Mart. Said infant was taken immediately into custody by management, as the parents were tracked down. Fifteen minutes after the baby was discovered, the family returned to the store. It had taken them THIRTY MINUTES to realize the baby was missing.

The police were called in, and management pulled the security tapes for review. It was determined that the child had been completely alone for fifteen minutes before the entire incident was reported. The family actually left the store not realizing who was missing. Astonishingly, the grandmother was the last one with the child. One can only wonder what seemed so important to her that she abandoned the kid.

The whole time that management and the police were going over the tapes, the family sat outside the office, arguing over who was at fault. "I left him with you!" "Naw, I left him with you!" Finally, there was an official judgement. As the grandmother was the last person to be with the child, she was the one considered legally responsible. So she was carted off to jail. In the meantime, the child was taken from the mother. I'm not sure how custody will be resolved. It seems that this runs in the family, though: the grandmother had, in her time, had several children taken from her due to the same cases of neglect. One of the children was the mother of the very child they abandoned today.

Hey, for some families, it's freckles that get passed down.

More Experimentationalegalismitis

Windows Live updated recently, and it included this Writer program that publishes to all of your blogs.  My understanding is that it can publish to multiple blogs simultaneously.  That’d be cool.

Well, then.

Did something earlier today I never really thought I'd do. Deleted Jen's number from my phone. Since fall of 2000, she'd been one of my closest friends. For the last few years, she was my best friend. After she graduated, I probably called her five times a week. So taking her off my phone is a big deal. I didn't want to, but it's been a year and a half, and she's made no move to get in contact. Seeing her at Katie's graduation cemented the fact that she's not interested in talking to us. And at this point, I'm not sure I really want to talk to her again. Ever. A year and a half of silence is a pretty big "Fuck you", and the feeling's beginning to be mutual.

Only thing is, I can't decide whether this is giving up, or facing facts and moving on.