What is your kid going as for Halloween this year?
How about you? What did you go as when you were a kid?
Kids Halloween costumes today?
Are you kidding me?
It seems like there is no thought put into it anymore. every little girl is a princess and every little boy a ninja.
After a kid turns 12 years old? they’re on the verge of hanging up the trick or treating for good. the costume selection process goes right out the window. when it should go into overdrive.
Let’s go kid?!
You’re a little older now, got a few more life experiences. put some forethought into that costume, some imagination, Will ya?
Your career as a trick or treater is almost over.
Very soon, You will be going into forced retirement.
No self-respecting kid goes trick or treating once they hit high school. you’d get teased by your friends. Not to mention the houses you attempt to get candy from? will shun you.
“Can I see some Identification Kid? What’s that? Left it at home huh? Sorry, I’m going to have to deny you candy from my domicile. We believe you to be too old for this sort of thing anymore. Shouldn’t you be chasing the skirts around school instead of engaging in this sort of behavior? You have passed through the looking-glass Alice. There is just no more free candy for you. I’m afraid? it’s over. Don’t you let me catch you coming around here anymore ya hear me!”
You’ll spot those on the cusp trick or treaters. every year a couple show up at your door.
Notice the changes in their body language? it appears their hearts just aren’t as into it as they use to be?
“What happened to you kid? You use to be so full of life? Now look at you?”
Last year I had two young men I think were about 12 or 13 show up at the door. the first kid had a Michigan State stadium blanket over his head so you couldn’t see his face. one hand extended from underneath it and in a high pitch girly voice I hear, “tricks or treats.” followed by what seemed like 7 minutes of giggling.
A blanket? C’mon buddy? that’s the best you got? his friend standing next to him is in a complete full blue body stocking. all he did was grunt.
I’m not sure if they were kidding? or high as a kite? They stood there extending their hands to a row of bushes on the side of our house. I wanted to throw a bucket of water on the both of them. it’s a miracle that they even made it to our front door.
“Stop That Giggling!”
I should of handed each of them a roll of reflective tape. just in case they happened to accidentally walk into traffic later that night.
I decided that this was the parents responsibility. not mine. Tonight? I’m just the candy giver.
I really do like seeing kids enjoy themselves on Halloween.
Some of them seemed really excited to get the candy.
When it comes to their costume? not as much excitement. some are shy, I forget that.
It’s about the kids enjoyment on Halloween. Right?
One costume I do enjoy every year is the “Hot Mommy.” who is dressed in a cute costume escorting their little boy or girl on their rounds.
Talk about upstaging your kid? Mom?!?
Some of these Mom’s either have no idea what they’re doing?…….or…….quite possibly? they know exactly what they’re doing.
You be the judge.
You’ll see the mom in a kitty outfit, a cheerleaders uniform, or dressed like little red riding hood.
Ladies….Ladies…what in the wide wide world of sports is going on here?
Last Year one mom showed up in a french maid outfit with her kid. as I looked past her, I could see the husband standing out on our front sidewalk giving me the stink eye. holding the leash of the biggest Great Dane I’d ever seen.
I waved to him, he didn’t wave back. So, I gave him a double thumb’s up.
Look Daddy-O? I didn’t dress your wife up like this? if you didn’t want her out getting ogled by the men folk in the neighborhood. then get her out of those fish net stockings and that short skirt and for goodness sakes? put some pants on her!
What am I, a monk? I don’t answer the door dressed like Tarzan with my Johnson hanging out. Do I? No….I do not. The Mrs. simply wouldn’t approve.
Yet, Every Halloween? The Hot Mommies show up at our doorstep. I wonder what would of happened if I gave candy to the Mom’s instead? just ignored the kid?
That Dad with the Great Dane would of sick the dog on me for sure.
Every Halloween Kids are told to do what they are told not to do every other day of the year.
First, they have the go ahead to talk to strangers.
“Wait? What? talk to that weird guy who’s house you want me to stay away from?
Mom? Dad? did I do something to make you mad?”
Second, after telling me to never ever take candy from strangers.
“It’s OK? Really? but you told me to never ever do that?”
Lastly, they are also encouraged to dress up in something that the parents might not normally approve of.
How many other days of the year do kids get free rein? as a kid you’ve just got to take advantage of that.
It’s make-believe, you can dress up and pretend you are anyone on Halloween. you can blame the bad behavior on the costume, probably get away with it in most cases. but these kids today don’t seem to care. why is that?
It’s not only about the candy. you’ll see that when get to my age.
I didn’t know you needed a permit to cut down a tree?
We should have been more observant. buyers beware. we didn’t know? if we had? we might have tried to work the tree removal into the cost of our house. sometimes, you overlook the little stuff.
On the day we moved in, I stepped out into our backyard to soak up our new purchase. this was both my wife and my first home.
I looked to my left and saw a woman about 60 to 65 years old watering her flowers. she smiled at me. It wasn’t difficult to offer up a warm smile in return. I extended my hand over our common fence and said, “Hi! I’m Robert your new neighbor.”
She took my hand, shook it and said in one breath. “Hi! I’m Linda….Did you know your tree is dead and is going to fall on my roof? you really should think about taking it down.”
I turned and looked up at the tree, then back to her. “I……?” she went on with a concerned tone, “I think it’s got the Emerald Ash Borer? The Village Forrester can confirm that for you. You should get a quote about having it removed.”
I continued to smile, nodding at her. “I will be sure to do that, umm? thanks. well?” clapping my hands together. “It’s very nice to meet you, I better go see how the movers are doing?” I turned around walked back into the house.
My wife was unpacking a box in the kitchen. “I can’t wait to meet our new neighbors.” she said smiling at me. I looked at her and thought yeah? well? at least one of them can’t wait to meet you.
One week after we moved in I got to work, first I would need to do some prep work. I got the Village Forrester out to confirm in fact that the tree was dead. during his visit, he never said a word to me about getting a village permit to remove the tree.
I had been living in the concrete jungle for the past 17 years. how was I suppose to know you needed such a thing?
Someone told me, I could save a few bucks cutting down the tree myself. seeing as how we had just plopped down a decent chunk of coin on a down payment on our house. I figured, I got this. how hard is it to cut down a tree? I see them do it all the time on that Discovery channel show American Loggers.
Our backyard is more wide than it is deep. so taking this tree down which was at least 40 feet tall. I figured? that with a circumference of about a foot and a half to maybe 2 feet? I needed to take it out piece by piece.
Certainly didn’t want it to fall on our house. my wife pleaded with me to hire a professional, I did get some quotes. the local companies wanted around 3 to 5 grand to remove it. cheapest quote I got was for about half of that, and we’d have to wait about 2 months before they could fit us into their schedule. I didn’t want to pay the 3 to 5 grand, or wait for 2 month’s to get it removed.
A lot can happen in that time.
You can find a lot of do-it yourself information on the internet these days. after doing my research I was completely confident I could handle this job. so I got to measuring my backyard and plot the path of the tree coming down. very important piece of information for any of you attempting this type of job.
We live in an older part of town in our village so the lot sizes are tight. we have our privacy as there are lots of mature trees on our property. I found that I could rent a chainsaw by the hour, day or week. I would also need to rent tree climbing spurs. as it would be necessary to prune the upper branches first before cutting the trunk. the trick is to stay off the branches as they can be rotted out on a dead tree. some of them were on ours. carrying a saw with you up into the tree is a delicate act in and of itself. one must be extremely careful.
Do I sound like I know what I’m doing? I do? Really?
Turns out I got some of it exactly right. problem is in taking down a tree of this size you need to get all of it right. the smallest miscalculation is not good. once a tree starts to fall? there is no way to stop it. no way at all. No do overs.
How was I suppose to know that the tree wouldn’t fall the way I had planned? The speed and velocity of the tree coming down on her roof was incredible. I truly underestimated the strength of its impact. it happened so fast. CRACK! BOOM! Lucky for me. Linda wasn’t home. Her cat was however. But he’s not talking. No one has seen Mr. Scruffles since. I’m pretty confident he escaped. as they didn’t find any squashed cat remains in the house when they went in to survey the damage.
Linda as you can imagine wasn’t too pleased when she got home and saw what I’d done to her home. it was exactly as she said. the tree fell on her roof.
“I’m pretty sure the tree was there first?” I told her.
“You may not have built the house? but you did decide to purchase it from the prior owner and live there knowing full well that there were trees in the vicinity? and you were the one who left your cat home alone unattended.”
She pulled out her cell phone, “You are in a lot of trouble buddy.”
“Linda? if you remember? I was only doing what you asked me to, cut down the tree before it….”she finished my sentence. …..”falls on my house? YOU IDIOT! Look At What You’ve Done!”
About the time she was taking me to task, she realized her cat was inside. that’s when she stopped yelling.
“My Cat.”
Immediately I tried to diffuse the horror of what may have happened by reassuring her.
“I’m sure its fine?….I couldn’t hear any meowing inside after the impact.”
If it was in peril it would make a noise, right?
Then I offered to buy her a new cat if Mr. Scruffles isn’t found? she started to dial.
In a half hour, I had gotten three calls, one from her attorney. one from her insurance company. and one from the village. then the police stopped by. I still think she over-reacted a little. after all? she got what she wanted, took the tree down? Didn’t I?
Honestly I didn’t know you needed a permit to cut down a tree.
We got all of the insurance settlements expedited, all of our other legal issues? were thankfully handled out of court.
I’ve told the village that I was still more than willing to pay for the permit to remove the tree.
It’s been little over a year and a half now since the mishap. Linda’s house has been fixed, looks pretty good. new roof, new bedroom wall, new fence, so? all is well. except for the I told you so’s from my wife, and the cold looks I still get from my next door neighbor.
Maybe one day Linda will forgive me? I’m not such a bad guy? given the chance, I can be really neighborly.
I’m just trying to fit in here. It’s not as easy as you’d think.
Seemed a little high for a lemonade stand. I stopped my car anyway. ordering a glass from a little girl about 6 or 7 years old who appeared to be in charge.
Look? nobody likes to be taken advantage of…especially me. I don’t care if it’s a Telemarketer, a Car Salesman or a 7 year old kid hustling watered down lemonade at 75 cents a pop. fair is fair. right is right. Unbelievably everything about this kids stand was wrong.
Where do I begin?
It tasted funny, not the least bit sweet or tart. clearly a bad product. The presentation was all wrong. the table top was a mess. she was holding a dirty rag to wipe it with, but it wasn’t in use when I walked up. immediately I was convinced it was overpriced for what she was selling. and even though? I can’t prove it. I’ll bet she stirred it with her dirty little fingers.
The lemonade was lukewarm, it wasn’t ice cold as advertised. there wasn’t any ice that I could see anywhere. in the glass or in the pitcher.
I told her it was simple. Either give me a fresh one in a clean glass with some ice or give me back my money. she tried to the give me the bum’s rush. it was at this moment her mom came out of the house. she could sense some tension and asked her daughter.
“Is Everything OK Sweetie?”
I interrupted,
“Everything would be fine, as long as I get another one with some ice.”
The kid told her mommy that,
“He didn’t like the Lemonade.”
I said that was correct and explained why.
I felt like I was getting ripped off, that if I wanted another one? I had to give her another 75 cents?
The mom laughed at me like I was nuts. at this point I decided I didn’t want another glass. this transaction had gotten way out of hand. I just wanted my money back.
That’s when the little girl started to cry.
The mom asked, “Are You Happy Now?” to which I responded, “No I’m not, all I want is my money back.”
I let them know, I could call the village and report them? as I do not see a permit? or a license to operate a beverage stand?
That’s when the kid really started bawling. and said to me, “You’re Mean.” to which I replied, “Oh Yeah? Well?…You’re a Bad Business…Person and Your Lemonade Stinks! How long have you been doing this?” her mother then scolded me with, “That’s Enough!” over her little girls response of “All Summer.”
Then?!? she stuck her tongue out at me. while the mom continued with, “What is the matter with you?!?”
I was only trying to help instruct her daughter on how to run a business properly. If you want to do something? Do it right. which unfortunately made the kid cry more. that’s when mom informed me that I should open my own stand if I felt that way. I told her, “If I did? My stand would crush theirs and put them out of business.”
Silence and Dirty Looks were exchanged.
I decided it was time to leave. refund or not, what’s done is done. I just wanted to forget the whole thing. so I left.
A couple of days later there was a knock on our door. I opened it to find the father standing there holding his little girls hand.
He asked me if what he’d heard was true? I said there had clearly been a huge misunderstanding here.
His eyes narrowed.
He wanted me to apologize to his daughter. I tried to explain my position to him, and flatly refused to apologize. I felt I had done nothing wrong? Dad was not happy with me. I could tell by his expression. then he asked me “If I wanted to step outside? Where we could settle this like Men.” I told him, “We could settle it…We could settle it in court if he’d like?” and closed the door in their face.
I couldn’t prove it of course, but the next morning I found that someone? had yanked out all of our flowers in the front yard by the roots. The kids in the neighborhood have started calling me sourpuss and lemon head. and someone keeps ringing our doorbell and running away. I also have found several lemons left in our mailbox.
Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.
This incident thankfully never made it to court, I’m happy to report. I’d like to think that cooler heads have prevailed.
In the end, This seemed to be a simple case of bad parenting.
Which is easy for me to say. I don’t have any kids of my own. Though, if I did? you can be damn sure that if they did open a business? They would be prepared with the proper knowledge and resources to succeed. it’s a tough business world out there.
I believe you should give your kids the tools they need to survive. I don’t care how old they are?
I haven’t seen her around lately.
My wife has requested that I stay away from her.
If I do see her? I’m suppose to look the other way. turn the other cheek. rise above it. I don’t know about all that.
Thomas B. Hogan of the Yellow Cab Company, Chicago Illinois is seated at the center of the photograph.
Thomas B Hogan (1879-1957) Originally from Ottawa Illinois. began his career as a groom, caring for horses in the Chicago area in the late 1890’s. while in Chicago he drove a horse drawn cab, until the advent of motorized cabs. one of Chicago’s first cab drivers, rising to the presidency of Chicago’s Yellow Cab Company in 1932.
From the farm to the big city. he worked his way up the ranks as people did back in those days by rolling up their sleeves and working hard. retiring in the late 1950’s.
He witnessed The City of Chicago in the Days of World War I and World War II, The Great Depression, Prohibition and Al Capone.
My Grandfather left this world a few years before I entered into it. He saw enormous change take place in not just Chicago, but the World.
I am proud of his accomplishments. and fascinated by Taxicabs.
His Experiences with the Taxi Cab Industry were quite different from my own. while he worked in it. I just use it as a mode of transportation to get around town.
I always have enjoyed being driven around in cabs. you get in, tell them where you want to go, they take you to your destination, upon arrival, you pay your fare and exit the cab. that’s how it’s suppose to work. you don’t give them any crap, they won’t give you any. respect them, hopefully they show you the same. but the whole process has changed somewhat over the years. don’t get me wrong. some rides are still very pleasant experiences. and some are not.
So, Please forgive me Grandfather for some of the experiences I am about to share with anyone who may happen to read this.
My earliest memories of riding in a cab was being taken to or from O’Hare airport during the beginning of the Jet Age. I remember thinking it was a cool way to get around as little boy. and just who was that strange silent man up front driving us around?
When I moved from the suburbs to the city to reside my impression of Cab’s and Chicago Cab Drivers continued to interest me. seemed like a tough gig, dealing with traffic, the elements and oh brother…the passengers. I’ve always thought most people who ride in Cab’s discount the man or woman behind the wheel. I’ve witnessed it first hand with those I’ve shared cab’s with. most treat them unfairly. they look down on them. don’t give them respect or any understanding. in just about any business there are good employees who take pride in their work, and the others who are tired or angry or bitter, possibly, this is the only gig they could get. and they hate it. It’s been like that for a long time I imagine?
I’ve had some awesome rides in Cab’s and met some really friendly drivers. I’ve also had to deal with some drivers who just suck big time.
I have been hit by two taxicabs as a pedestrian in my life. once was my fault. the second time? the cabbie tried to run me down for no other reason than he thought my life was worth less than his fare in the backseat. in the first incident I apologized and went on my way. only suffering the indignation of having my left pants leg torn off as I ran for a commuter train.
The second incident I was walking home and crossing a major intersection with the green walk light when a cabbie barreled around a corner, forcing me to literally dive out-of-the-way. the cabbie slammed on his brakes rolled down his window shouting profanities at me. I approached the rolled down passenger window shaken. I asked him if he was aware that he almost killed me? again, more screaming of profanities. when I leaned in the open passenger window to speak with the driver, I glanced at a incredibly scared businesswoman in the backseat. I couldn’t believe this guy just didn’t seem to care.
I’d like to state for the record I’m not exactly sure when his side view mirror got separated from his cab? Possibly it happened during the argument? I do know once he realized it. he exited the cab like it was on fire, grabbing me by the collar and rag-dolling me on the sidewalk. I looked at him, told him in no uncertain terms, “Take Your Hands Off Me!” by this time a large crowd began to gather.
The frightened businesswoman in the backseat had gotten out, shoving money at the cabbie, leaving in a hurry, disappearing down the sidewalk. the enraged cabbie continued to rag-doll me with one arm, screaming that I had to pay for the broken mirror. to which I replied sarcastically, “You Got a Good Case.” at this point the driver released me reaching for his cell phone, informing me he was calling the cops, I said, “You Do That.” a few minutes later one of Chicago’s finest arrived on the scene. he asked us both what happened. It was his story against mine. I believe? I told mine better.
As for the cement headed cabbie? in the end. he got the ticket, a court date, and no money for the busted mirror. I have since been a little more careful when crossing intersections. in a strange twist of fate, I ended up marrying a woman about 7 years later who had been hit by a cab in the city. I don’t believe it was by the same guy that tried to kill me. it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if perhaps you have almost been taken out by an out of control cab in your day? or know someone who has had a close encounter like that of my wife and I?
These were times that I had encounters on foot with Taxicabs.
These instances didn’t sour me on Cab Rides. I still use them whenever I can.
When it comes to tipping the driver. I believe that I over tip. I do this as a way to honor my Grandfather and his memory. I’d like to think he would approve.
My rides are never boring, as a passenger I am always paying attention. eyes are wide open. sharing conversations with countless drivers, Good and Bad, Some really pleasant, Some really uncomfortable. Sometimes, the driver will lecture you like you don’t know squat about life and he has all the answers. I’ve ridden with drivers from Asia, Australia, Africa, Europe, South America and North America. I’ve listened to their dreams, spoken with drivers going to college, many hoping to get a degree to better themselves. some wanting to be doctors or lawyers or architects.
Early one morning on my way to work, I had a driver who was completely out of it. it took me a few blocks to realize this. once he missed the turn, I calmly mentioned it. he seemed not to hear me or care. So there I was, barreling in the opposite direction of my destination. looking at me in the rearview mirror through his glazed googly eyes. I told him he was heading the wrong way. he didn’t seem to comprehend what I was telling him. I finally had enough. “STOP The CAB!” I shouted. that did the trick. he pulled over to the curb, turned around, looking at me and angrily asks, “What’s Your Problem?” I quickly paid the fare and told him I thought he was on something. He went berserk. swearing at me, I exited the cab and he followed. a foot chase down the sidewalk ensued. he gave up after a block.
I’m not sure I’d trade an angry cabbie for a smelly one. Mr Furious I can deal with. But a Driver who smells like ass? there is no escape. Like in any bad relationship. You need to get out of it, and get out now.
Sometimes in the winter. you feel like you’re riding in a mobile meat locker. “Hey Pal? I’ll give you a couple extra bucks to turn up the heat.” at the end of one ride the driver had to pry his hands off the steering wheel just to collect the fare. then there is the hot summer months when a lot of older cabs have either no air conditioning or poorly working air conditioning. You’ll spot these cabs as they pass you on the street by noting the passengers hanging their heads out the open windows like a dog seeking relief from the heat.
It’s Always embarrassing when I get in a cab and say, “Thank You for stopping Sir.” only to find out my driver is a woman. Apologies Lady. Yes, sometimes my cab driver is the rarest of the species. The Female Driver. I personally love woman drivers. They are Friendly, Polite and Happy! What more can you ask? they always get a good tip from me. Woman drivers? I Wish there were more of them.
Getting into the backseat of a cab you never know what you might find. you might find a pair of sunglasses, an umbrella, a sweater or jacket, I found a pair of women’s panties one time. how I hoped that the fare before mine was an interesting one. sigh….where was I? lots of fast food wrappers are left on the seat or on the floorboard, the occasional cell phone, on the day after Saint Patrick’s Day you might see or smell the remain of some amateurs vomit. really nasty stuff too. I have found over the years a fair amount of Money. I turn all this stuff over to the driver. well? not the fast food wrappers or the vomit. but certainly the articles of clothing and phones and umbrellas. and no? I didn’t keep the panties. I left them on the seat. with regard to the money, I have had spirited debates with people about this. the driver will tell you the property of the cab and all belongings inside are his. even if he is only leasing it for that day or week. I have found up to $20 dollars on a few occasions.
Only once when I was a younger man did I pocket it. everyone’s initial reaction is Finders Keepers! later on I started to side with the driver. it’s certainly not my money. maybe the guy or gal who left it gave the driver a lousy tip? now I hand it over to the driver. I’ve have had more than one person tell me I’m a sucker or chump for doing this. I still look at it like it’s not my money. if I find it laying on the sidewalk? then….it’s finders keepers. but inside his place of business? my humble opinion is? it’s his. good karma to hand it over. I love the look I get from the driver when I do.
One of the problems I find today that exist in Cab’s are all the interior distractions. I am speaking about talking on the phone while driving. it’s gotten a little better with new laws prohibiting talking on the phone. but c’mon? you’re driving, you’re working. it’s ok for the passenger, he doesn’t have his hands on the wheel. I personally believe the passenger shouldn’t have to listen to you talk to your friend or wife on the phone. get off the phone. when the passenger exits? pull over and make your call curbside. this should apply to everyone. not just cab drivers but all drivers. there are enough distractions out there. if I catch you texting? I will request you stop the cab, and get out. and you get stiffed with regard to the tip. you could kill somebody you numbskull.
One distraction I can live with? within reason, is when I get in and the driver is playing his music. I know a lot of you won’t agree. everyone is different, and most I realize want to ride in silence. and I can be like that. it depends on my mood and the time of day. the driver will usually turn it down to be polite when someone gets in. I usually tell them sometimes to turn it back up I want to hear what they are listening to? especially if it sounds interesting. I have been turned on to some very good music during rides over the years. even seeking out and purchasing some music I’ve been turned onto to. many a ride come to a close with me complimenting the driver on his choice of music.
Lastly, I want to talk about the characters I have been witness to over the years. one of my favorites, was a driver who was waving his hand through the windshield. alternating back and forth, pounding his hand on the horn like he was conducting an Orchestra. other characters of interest are the ones who feel the need to decorate the insides of their cabs with colored tiki lights and personal photographs or neon wallpaper. I guess this is normal in other parts of the world? little unusual here stateside.
There was one driver I remember who every inch we went from his Gas Pedal to his Brake. Gas Pedal, Brake, Gas Pedal, Brake, Gas Pedal, Brake! for like 20 blocks. wanted to tell him take some driving lessons. In the end I refrained, while exiting a little sea sick. Then there is the frustrated Race Car Driver. Who won’t let anyone get in front of them, they always have to be out front. all I have to say is buckle up and hang on. 70 MPH in downtown Chicago is just nuts. out to the airport, fine? in rush hour traffic? not so good.
I often wonder who the first guy who came up with the idea of Taxi Cab’s was?
It certainly is an interesting way to get around town. Do me a favor? next time you get in a cab. don’t zone out until you get to the destination, next time, maybe pay attention to the driver, the route he takes, his skill as your driver, maybe, ask him how his day is going? you just might be surprised.
I don’t get to ride in them as much now that I have moved back to the suburbs. when I can, I do. I must admit to you, I miss not taking them as much as I use to. my new commuting mode of transportation has been replaced by the train. as much as I miss all those cab rides? I Miss My Grandfather more. Wish I had gotten the chance to know him. Wish I could have taken just one ride with him. Bet he was an excellent cab driver. With a load of interesting tales.
The how’s and why’s really don’t matter right now.
It’s happened, and you’re looking for a little assistance on how to proceed.
Possibly, what to expect?
I can tell you from my own experience.
Breaking your jaw is not a pleasant adventure.
For many reasons.
There is the physical pain you must endure throughout this journey.
You’ll most likely have to try to explain it to people with a jaw that’s been wired shut. which is a drag.
Your injury unfortunately won’t stop people from asking once they see you.
An early explanation from you might go something like this.
“What Happened?” To which you respond with “MUGLINGMUMP JAWMNFRIMOP” or some such nonsense.
Most people will politely nod at you and say, “Un-huh? you don’t say?” or “geez that’s a bummer man.”
Everyone is going to want to know “What Happened?” you’re not going to be able to easily communicate what did happen. so get yourself a pad of paper and a pen. you will be writing a lot of notes in the first couple of weeks.
Early on you can expect the occasional wisenheimer to verbally punch you in the gut with, “What’s the other guy look like?” to which you won’t initially be able to respond. unless you write it down.
I’ve found it’s easier to tell it to people later, than to write it out. it feels too much like a confession that you might get locked up for. even though, you did it to yourself. which in the end is the important thing to remember. it’s not so much how it happened. the hard truth is, it happened is all. you have to ride it out best you can. so just tell the truth, it’s easier than trying to make up some BS. if you start to give out multiple stories to try and….wait for it….”save face.” nobody who knows you will buy your phony baloney anyhow. people can tell if you’re lying.
Because with a broken jaw? they’ll see it in the pain in your eyes. it can be a little exhausting. the people you know will give various looks from the “I am so sorry.” to “Are you OK?” this usually comes from your wife and family. then there are friends and co-workers who give you the “What a dumb ass” look.
You won’t need to be a mind reader. looks in this case are not deceiving.
One other thing before I forget, you can speak through a wired jaw. You’ll learn a new skill. that of a amateur ventriloquist. I got pretty good at it. now I have something to fall back on if I need it. all I need is a dummy. and I will be good to go.
So, where was I? oh right. the pain. before you are diagnosed, you must go through x-rays. possibly a CT scan at the hospital to make sure you didn’t crack your skull open. then you get to go back to the doctors. To schedule an operation! oh yes, you do. not to mention you have to get your head clear. cause trust me on this. your head feels a little like someone rolled it down a hill in a garbage can. at the bottom of that hill is a big rock or tree you slam into. there may also maybe a loud ringing or a buzzing sound that will accompany you for a few weeks afterwards. perhaps your wife will get the benefit of hearing you yell out from time to time “Mill Hum-Un Manswer Hat Framn Frone!” don’t sweat it. it will hopefully, go away quickly.
The other important thing to remember is this. select a good doctor. not some hack. you want them to do a good job fixing you up. should your insurance not cover it because the doctor you selected is out of your insurance network of coverage? worry about it later. we are talking about your health after all. this is not the time to shop around for some back alley oral surgeon who operates out of a paneled van.
Get a good recommendation like I did from your dentist. most likely, you’ll end up at the dentist first. especially if you are also missing some teeth to add to the fun. he’s not going to touch you anyway. they’re going to take one look at you all busted up missing your teeth with a swollen jaw and tell you. I think you need to see an oral surgeon. you’ll appreciate this later. at the time you may be thinking, “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just a bad bruise?” and…or “My teeth will eventually grow back right?”
Once you have your surgery. your jaw is really wired shut. it’s not going to be open for 6 weeks. so settle in. in the early recovery period once you get home, they will give you a syringe and some liquid pain medicine to take orally. take it when you need it, when you feel better, get off that stuff.
Now prepare yourself for a little taste of claustrophobia. having your jaw wired shut does that. don’t panic. get a couple of good books, schedule a film festival of dvd or cable movies. try to relax. this is the time you go into your shell. you won’t want to be spending time with anyone right now, cause let’s face it. you won’t be carrying on any conversations for a while. it’s all writing notes on paper with a pen. or texting someone who’s already in the room with you. it helps to have an understanding compassionate wife/husband, boyfriend/girlfriend or family member around for a few days after surgery. to bring you stuff. cause you will soon become one with the couch.
The other shock to your system is you can no longer eat solid food. and even though you can’t eat? you will still need a source of protein to help facilitate the healing. I suggest you stock up on Ensure. it worked wonders for me. soon you can add puree soups.
The upside to all this mess, if there is one? expect to drop some weight. you fellas out there? you might want to grow a beard. especially if you have any cuts on the chin that took stitches like I did. you will, I promise…lose some pounds. I went down pretty quick to the last notch on my belt. all my clothes began to fit better. who needs exercise! very important note, try and focus, meditate. I would suggest you slow things down. what things? everything. rest, then rest some more. your body needs it to heal.
If you are gainfully employed? You will miss some work most likely. don’t forget to breathe, you will be back at it soon enough. I missed about two weeks of work. Sorry? but the first few nights of sleep will really suck, take the pain med’s. it will help those early nights. as I said earlier? get off that stuff as soon as possible. you will have plenty of time to think about your life, and what you want to do when you get better.
Yes! You Will Get Better. The human body is an amazing thing, it has an incredible ability to heal itself.
You just have to be patient.
If you become cranky? apologize for being a jerk. the person trying to help you didn’t put you in this situation. most likely anyway. unless you took a frying pan across the face. or were in a nasty accident that you didn’t cause.
If you were responsible for your predicament? say you’re sorry as much as you need to the person trying to assist you in your journey back to good health. keep apologizing, try to be nice. You can do this. it sucks being hurt. Remember, You Will Get Better. This should be your mantra. keeping your mind right is key.
You will absolutely feel cooped up. from time to time. if it’s possible? get outside, breathe fresh air. if you are like me? possibly, you won’t want your neighbors to see you. I did a masterful job hiding out inside. occasionally sticking my head outside. only when no one was around. we had a lot of people in the neighborhood ask if I had been out-of-town? I laid low during my 6 weeks. ghosting the neighbors is ok.
Slowly you’ll get back to feeling a little better. the doctor will give you a date to focus on. that day will be the day they cut the wires and you will be able to open your mouth again. a big day, let me tell you. but don’t get too far out over those skis yet. your jaw will be sore. you won’t be able to open very wide in the beginning. those dreams of solid food will have to wait. you’ll go from a liquid diet to a soft diet. which is scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes and ice cream, milk shakes and yogurt. but forget pizza and steaks and chicken and fresh fruit for now. it’s not going happen. that’s more likely when you hit 2 months out.
A couple of weeks after the wires get cut, they will remove the braces or arch bars that kept your teeth and jaws from moving around. they keep them on for the extra two weeks just in case something goes wrong or you need a little more healing time. if they take them off too soon? then you have to do the whole procedure (surgery) again where they put you under to put the arch bars and wires back on. and you don’t want that. you will be a little sore after the arch bars come out. they numb you up with Novocaine when they remove them, they won’t put you under for that. but they might give you nitrous oxide? Yeah Baby! roll with it. your gums and teeth will hurt that first day. at this point you should be in a groove. now you can start looking forward to solid food, maybe getting your busted up teeth fixed. hopefully it’s only one or two. multiple root canals would be a bummer man. I’m looking at least two, maybe more?
Going forward? no one needs to tell me to be more careful. this is a trip you just won’t forget.
Are there worse things you can do to yourself? Absolutely. and really? stop for a minute, think about it?
I can think of at least a dozen of my friends who have fallen, knocked out teeth, split open heads, taken stitches, broken bones, cut open various hands, legs and other body parts. this stuff happens. it happens to us all. maybe? maybe not you? maybe not yet? but it could. I hope it doesn’t. though if it does? I hope it’s not a broken jaw, because I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. I speak from experience. if it does? give me a call, if I hear “MUGLINGMUMP JAWMNFRIMOP?” hang up the phone. send me an e-mail or text. you can message through my site if you’d like. maybe I can help you get through it? at the very least I can suggest things to get you through. perhaps bring you some Ensure or some Soup. you might feel better having the help of someone who’s been through it.
Remember, You will get better.
One last thing. If you do break your jaw? go out and buy a good blender. You’re gonna need it.
In my 30 plus years of Grateful and Gainful employment in downtown Chicago.
I have been hit by a cab twice, once my fault, once the cab drivers. I’ve witnessed a guy stepping off a curb and being run over by a bus. (he didn’t make it.) I had a woman hit by a truck fly into my arms (she survived.) I’ve lost count of people falling, slipping, tripping and breaking Arms, Legs, Elbows, Knees and Toes in front of me. I began working in the city at a time when people walked the streets like one drives a car. orderly, like how traffic flows or should flow. and flash forward to today. where I’m not sure how to describe it?
I have been hit on the sidewalk by ice falling from a building, had a bird poop on me a couple of times from above, which is supposed to be good luck I’m told. and once I got sideswiped by a bike messenger in hockey goalies mask in the middle of the summer. I have been splashed with water by buses, cars and trucks. I was chased down the street one time by a cabbie who meant to do me harm. and like us all I’ve slogged through all kinds of weather. Traversing the city by car, bus, train, el, boat and my favorite by foot. I’ve tried to handle this with as much understanding, compassion and aplomb as anyone can possibly muster.
But today? I thinking of buying a Taser. The untraceable black market variety. I have been told that there are two different types available today. the first kind when applied to the umm? usually unwilling participant besides getting a pretty good jolt I’m told leaves a serial number burned or branded into the skin. the second expels confetti when used leaving behind the serial number of the taser used on the individual. this is why I need an unregistered model. I would prefer to remain incognito. I mean….there is really no need to involve the police. is there? Good, I didn’t think so.
Now of course the truth is I would never hurt anyone intentionally with a taser. the only way I would ever raise my hand to another would be to protect my wife or family. besides I am way too old at this point to put up my dukes and commence swinging at someone’s noggin. and I sure wouldn’t want anyone taking my instrument of mayhem away and using it on me.
I just wish that people would watch where they are walking. I do. sadly I know this will never change. I just felt the need to perhaps alert others to the lurking dangers on the streets we all share. eyes open people. they are out there, and some of them mean us harm. some of them are just way too tied up in checking their E-mail or Twitter or Facebook pages to care about the impending collision heading towards them on the sidewalk just ahead. Bad craziness is out there on foot these days, it’s right around the corner on the streets of our fair cities.
It was a first date. We went to a movie, and afterwards she invited me back to her folks house where she offered to cook me something to eat. I was enjoying her company and happily accepted.
She proceeded to fix me a Basic Burger. No Frills, Just Meat and the Bun.
No Big Thing Right? (buzzer sounds) Wrong!
When she put down the plate in front of me I started looking around the room for the hidden camera. This had to be “Candid Camera” and Allen Funt was going step out at any minute to let me in on the joke.
What was before me looked like a hunk of charcoal. She had Burnt The Burger, The Bun, I truly believe she’d have Burnt The Plate if it had been possible. but of course, you let that go…It was a First Date. and everyone deserves a second chance.
What I’ll never understand was her Mom was world class when it came to cooking…Aren’t Italians suppose to pass down those recipes through the generations to preserve them?
It’s a good thing she had three sisters who were all excellent cooks. everyone of them while maybe not as good as the Mother excelled in various Italian Pasta Dishes, Appetizers & Pastries. why one of her sisters was Legally Blind! But she was a really good cook.
My Gal? She tried Baking. But apparently she missed the part of the lesson that told you to grease the pan you were using.
She tried….don’t get me wrong. Lord knows she tried. She tried to bake brownies or cakes on occasion. Most of those lab experiments ended up Burnt and Stuck to the Pan. and the only way it was coming out was with a Jackhammer or possibly some Dynamite.
I remember she’d get so frustrated when trying to prepare something. And this was a Smart Woman. Book Smart that is, not Cooking Smart.
It was time to face the facts.
I had married Thag The Cavewoman. she knew how to make fire…just not what to do with it.
My own Mother would ask me from time to time what my wife made for dinner. I’d reply, “Reservations.” (rim shot) that’s an old joke I know, but for me it was true. we ate out a lot. Whenever she’d ask if I wanted to go over to her Mom and Dads for dinner. before she even said, “do you want to have dinner at my mom and…I’d interrupt with, “Yes, oh yes Please, can we?”
The only thing she ever cooked correctly was by Accident. It was on Thanksgiving in 1990.
She had insisted on preparing Thanksgiving Dinner for the whole family. I held my breath and my tongue. We bought a large Turkey.
You know those little red buttons that pop up in the Turkey to let you know the bird is done? Well…It seems that after stuffing the bird she placed it upside down in the pan in the oven, so the red button was underneath it.
I started to sense something was wrong when a short time before dinner was to be served. I walked into our kitchen where she and her older sister were trying to flip the bird over.
Word got out.
The entire family held their collective breath.
In my head alarms were going off. “Oh My God What Has She Done Now! We’re Screwed, No Turkey on Thanksgiving?!? You gotta be Kidding Me.” I slowly backed out of the room pretending not to know any of them.
Who are you people and what have you done to my Turkey!!!
Turns out once Birdzilla was flipped back to the proper position all those juices reversed direction thereby making it one succulent Bird.
Hey, even a Blind Squirrel can find an Acorn, I guess. but that would be the high water mark when it came to cooking for my wife.
She’s gone now, we divorced in 1994.
She went on to marry someone else. Maybe she learned how to cook? Maybe she didn’t?
Maybe somewhere out there in America tonight is a guy with a Major Belly Ache.
And this evening when I say my prayers before bedtime. I’ll Thank God it’s Not Me.
When I was about 10 years old, we had a kid named Mark Guttrider who lived around the corner.
Now Mark wasn’t the biggest kid on the block or the toughest.
But Mark had that Great Equalizer. His Dog Dixie.
It’s safe to say this pooch was the mangiest mutt you’d ever laid eyes on. And mean as a Mongoose on speed. If you ever found yourself riding your bike to the convenience store. you had to pass Guttrider’s house. or else take the long way around the block. As you’d pass his house, if he was outside shooting baskets or cleaning out his garage and he saw you first. You’d hear the words that sent chills up your spine. I’ll never forget them…
“SICK EM DIXIE!”
This mutt would be after us on our bikes like a rocket shot out of a cannon. most of the time we’d get a jump start knowing what was around the corner. But there were occasions when we’d forget. The next thing you knew you had a Snarling Canine Terror biting your ankles as you rode by. This dog had no fear. Woe be the kid Guttrider had it in for. Which sadly, was me. I got the scars on my leg to prove it.
It all ended for us one day, as we rode by Guttrider’s house. We saw him in the driveway crying. apparently Dixie took off that afternoon after a car. and ended up getting flattened by the tires. Dixie was no more. I know we should have been happy about it. but we weren’t.
Kids need a little adventure, something to talk about on the bus going to school.
One Thing we did know at 10 years of age was that if there was a Doggie Heaven…well? Dixie sure as Hell isn’t there. She’s down in Dog Hell chasing those poor old souls riding their bikes down dead end streets. Dishing out Canine Justice Down in The Fires of Hell.
Sometimes, the best childhood memories are those adventures that grow over time. today the house still stands where Guttrider use to sick his Deranged Pooch on us. But we’ve all grown up and moved on.
To this day, Whenever and Wherever I see someone walking their Dog, I’ll roll down the window of my car and Yell, “Bad Dog! Bad Bad Dog!” and then I’ll smile.
