I Need Some Time Time Away

I need to take some time away from this blog. Yesterday I just finished another 5 day week at the humane society. I will learn how to say no. I switched jobs because the one I had wasn’t keeping me busy enough more about that next time. Every day I came home from those 6 hour shifts I was so tired I fell asleep in the recliner around 8 pm, my sleep schedule is a mess. The apartment above me had its water heater blow out the back which caused a major leak in my place. It came in the bathroom, hall closet and main closets ceilings. I had to clear out all of that stuff and dry it out, wash all of my clothes that were hanging up and I guess I was lucky the only thing that was ruined were my leather funeral shoes. I still have all of that stuff stacked all over my living room with a path leading in and out. I found 6 different to do list the other day I am so far behind in my real life it is pathetic. When my real life butts up against my virtual life this badly I have to take care of my real life first. Then add on the fact that my passions are changing. I still don’t have any urge to unpack my camera and I will start my new blog before I post on this one again. I have only been away a couple of days and looked at my email this morning and am staring at about 100 different post. I wont even try to catch up with all of those. The best I can do is pick one from each person I follow and catch up with it. Once I start back up again I will commit myself to posting once a week on this site because I don’t want to lose track of all of you or your post. I looked the other day and some how I have ended up following 50 blogs, that is part of the reason I have fallen so far behind. I have already gotten rid of 5 and some of the new ones are only following me here because of my new site. I still will have to get rid of some more though. I was going to take two or three weeks off but then that would put me to close to Christmas when I would take off again so I will probably be off of this site the rest of the year. My new blog will be about my struggles of trying to go from a vegetarian to a vegan. I will offer a link to it the next time I post other than that I wont talk about it in this blog. I do ask that you don’t follow me on my new blog just because its me, because it wont be anything like this blog. It will be full of recipes reblogs and guest speakers. I have to come up with a new pin name so my new post don’t show up on your readers to keep you all from getting confused. Then I will have to sign in and out every time I switch blogs so I will be confused. I am probably taking on too much but I have to give it a try.
I have a blog I follow that I refer as a hidden gem, this girl writes a lot like me she just blurts out what ever comes into Her head. She only has two or three followers. I am not asking you to follow Her blog, I would never do that. If you have the time you might want to take a peek at it, the choice is yours 🙂



Growing up in Wichita Kansas last part

Before I go forward I left something out of yesterdays post. One of the earlier memories I have about living in that house was our telephone. It was in the small hallway between the bedrooms, in a little built-in made for the phone. Our number was amerest 75547. The amerest was for am the first two letters in our number. We had no area codes back then and long distance calls were very expensive. We also had a party line. If the other party was on the phone line you had to wait until they got off before you could use it. We used to pick the phone up, put our hand over the mouthpiece and listen in to the other family on our line.
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Hamilton Junior High was my last school in Wichita. At the time it was grades 7 through 9. These were very formative years in my life that would set me up for High School. This was my first school that wasn’t all white. It had a small population of Hispanics but still no African-Americans. I seem to have fewer memories of this school than all the others. This where my grades started to go down hill to Cs and Ds and I had my parents on me all the time about that. I had to walk just over a mile to get to this school, again no buses back then. I wonder how many less obese kids we would have in this country if they walked a mile to school each way everyday. There was a cafeteria this school and I got 50 cents a day for lunch. Everyday I would eat the same thing, three dinner rolls and a chocolate milk, leaving me enough for a pack of cigarets on the way home from school.
I was short and stocky much like I am today, I was always walking around with a chip on my shoulder I felt I had something to prove. We had this one area right off the school grounds where everyday somebody would be fighting about something. I used to get into a scrap a couple of times a month myself. One day I got in to it with a Hispanic because I had dared to flirt with one of their girls. This kid beat the living tar out of me but I kept getting up for more,which earned me respect with them and a trip to the ER for several stitches, that did not go over to well at home.
From then on I hung out with the Mexican kids, I was the only white boy allowed in their click. Naturally this put me in a strange situation with all the other white kids, which were the majority in that school,but I didn’t care I felt at home. All the Mexicans back then carried knives and weren’t afraid to use them so naturally I had to carry one as well. All through Junior high all of my girlfriends were Mexican, to this day I am still a sucker for brown eyes. Every day after school we all went to hang out at this little Mexican restaurant right next to the school. On weekends I would hang out with my old white buddies at the pool hall. A lot of people didn’t understand back then how I could have friends from two different races but it seem natural to me. My parents had to come to school one day because I was in trouble for something, who knows what. When they found out I was hanging out with Mexicans the crap hit the fan. In the late 50’s it wasn’t considered the norm for different races to interact. Looking back my parents were racist as were all parents in my neighborhood, I think it was the way they were raised. So naturally I rebelled against them and hung out with whomever I wanted to. It was like overnight I had become the black sheep of the whole neighborhood, no parents wanted their kids to have anything to do with me. I didn’t realize it at the time but I believe all of this is what lead me to taking a path through life outside what most people would consider the normal one. I was always comfortable on that path and still am today. The only difference in my life now that I am older is that I don’t have to prove myself to anyone anymore. Simply put I am who I am and not willing to make any major changes in my life or lifestyle.

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This Photo has nothing to do with the post, it was next to the Mexican restaurant I used to hang out at.I have always liked Victorian styled homes so I just threw this shot up.


Gowing up inWchita Kansas Part 1

Once again I spent two days going through photos for this post. I was taking a shot wide enough to crop it to downsize it for the web. Then my dumb ass did a search on downsizing with windows 8 and I went to the photo gallery and there it was all the time one button to downsize for the web I used a couple more features. So now the mystery is solved and I can move on.
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This is the house I was born and raised in. My parents bought it new in 1949 the year they were married. It was a two bedroom with a large living room and a kitchen-dinning area with a utility room. This is the first time in probably 20 or so years I have been back in this neighborhood and a lot has changed. The front porch and roof over head, sliding doors and siding were added. We had one floor furnace in the corner of the living room close to the bedrooms. My earliest memory was my parents would turn the heat down at night, in the mornings my brothers and I would squat barefoot on this hot ass metal furnace to get warm and it would leave little square marks on our feet from the way it was made. Most of my memories of the times in this home were found ones. When I was 7 or 8 I think my sister was born, prior to that the three boys lived in the one bedroom on a set of bunk beds. My youngest brother Don, who is now gone had a bed that rolled out under the bottom bunk bed. My middle brother and I would always jump out of our beds on to his and use it as a trampoline with Him in it. He was the youngest of the boys and we would pick on Him all of the time. Kids can be cruel without realizing it. When my sister was born my Dad and Grandfather built the extension to the right side of the house that used to be the garage. The three boys moved into there and my sister got our old room. I still recall very well when my sister was born all of the boys were waiting and watching out the window. We didn’t have a clue what a baby girl looked liked.
When I started grade school I had to walk the four blocks to get there. For a 5-year-old starting school that was a lot of steps. The first year my Mom made me walk to school with the neighbor girls who were a couple of years older. I recall this was embarrassing because I thought I was to big for that. Through the 5th grade I got all A’s and B’s. Recess was always my favorite part of the day we would have one in the morning and another in the afternoon. The boys went to their area and the girls to theirs. My favorite game was dodge ball. Back then you could throw that ball at a kids head and knock him off His feet and get nothing but praise. If you went home without a few bruises or scrapes you weren’t playing hard enough.
When I started 6th grade I had my first male teacher, Mr. Russel. That’s the year my grades fell and my life started to change. My Mom always said it was because of the teacher. I think it was because that was the year I realized girls were good for more than pulling their pigtail !! I tried to take a photo of my grade school but it is no longer there. I forgot to mention the grade school I went to was an all white school. In the 50’s all the African-Americans lived north of Douglas and the small Hispanic group lived north and west of Broadway. There was no busing everybody walked to school rain or shine.
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I took this because it used to be a full service gas station about a block and a half from where I lived. My mom used to send me up there with a note to buy cigarettes for her at 25 cents per pack. After a while Frank didn’t even want to see the notes, something that allowed me to buy my cigarettes at the ripe old age of 13. A filthy habit I wished I had never started.
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It’s hard to read the sign but I was surprised to see this laundromat was still there. I used to spend endless hours in they’re playing the old pinball machines. Five balls for a nickel. There was only one machine in here and a lot of kids that weren’t my friends wanting to play. This is where my friends and I learned to hustle, I would play most of the day for free and walk home with a pocket of nickles. An art that would later serve me well in the pool hall that is no longer there