Booty -- or Curtain
-- Call ?

*Sarah had energy, style, intellect, beauty and assertiveness.

So I asked her out on a date.  We were adults; middle age.  Well read professionals.

We went to a movie the first night.  

And then on the second date, I had tickets for a Michigan State University home football game.

In retrospect, I should have known something when she used the men’s ‘john’ at half-time because the lady’s line was ‘too long.’ 

She bantered with the University boys in the line, and ignored the 'Woo Ha.  Woo Ha," compliments that came her way...sauntering past the line of male back sides, smiles and urinals to the stalls.

Driving home from East Lansing, she invited me over the following weekend  “for a casual,  home cooked meal.”

So I arrived the appointed hour, with a nice bottle of California Sauvignon.

And rang her door bell.

Sarah opened the door, wearing a skirt and a kitchen apron.

And nothing else.  From the waist up.

She smiled and  welcomed me.   We went up the stairs to her lovely  apartment as if there was nothing unusual or needed to be explained, commented on.

I sat in the living room, reading the paper; occasionally glancing toward the kitchen where she mixed salad and removed cheese casserole from the oven.

She warmed the dinner plates.  Impressive.  How many people in places like Battle Creek, Saginaw or Grand Rapids heat their dinner plates?

We sat across from each other,  in candlelight, with soft classical music playing from nearby speakers,  toasted the night, and enjoyed the meal. 

Talked local politics.  Favorite books.  Job stuff.

And I thought, 'As odd as all this is, if she's not going to say anything, I'm not either."

We laughed knowingly over the fruit with rum sauce dessert, as if there was a third person at the table who didn't know our secret code or hand shake.

Around 9 p.m., it was somehow clear the evening was nighe over.

Sarah walked me slowly, casually to the front door. 

Trying to delay things a bit, I bantered: "Do I get a rain check?"

She laughed, applying a chaste cheek kiss, "We'll see.  This is just opening night."

Some time later, by delightful accident, I learned the first evening and Sarah’s ensemble had little  to do with romance or sex.

She'd recently had breast implants.

And this was opening night.  Like a Broadway Show.

Guess if I looked that good, I'd want the right people to see The First Act. 

All I could think about that evening was whether this was a Curtain --or perhaps Booty -- Call.

----

*name and minor details changed to protect privacy.

Somehow, I missed Jane Wyatt’s death notice a few years back.

Wyatt was 96 years old when she died; and I've followed her career for much of my own 68 years.

Wyatt was Ronald Coleman’s love interest in the famous '30s film, Lost Horizon; but was perhaps best known as mother Margaret Anderson in the 1950s tv show “Father Knows Best,” with Robert Young in the lead role.

Wyatt, Young and their three onscreen children did more than 200, 30-minute tv programs from 1954 to 1960. An exhausting schedule that was not without its bumps along the way.

The two were friends, admired each other; but never socialized off the set, and, in real life, their three tv show children lived problemmatic lives.

The Father Knows Best program was criticized in the '60s and '70s as being too middle class, too white, too stereotype.

But growing up, I loved the show.

And I sort of loved Jane Wyatt from a distance over all these years. And I'm not sure why. (I'm sure a shrink would have plenty of suggestions.)

Once or twice a year, I'd go to Wikepedia or 'Dead or Alive' websites, just to check that Wyatt was still around and to read up on her very occasional movie or tv credit, as late as 1986 in one of the Star Trek flicks.

I particularily admired Wyatt  for standing up to Senator Joseph McCarthy during the communist witch hunts of the early 50s.

I admired her for her life long commitment to her husband of some 62 years; and to her children.

She was also always very candid in her observations about the moview business, self deprecating, grounded, honest.

She died quietly in her sleep.

A wonderful life, and a nice last scene, for a fine actress and human being.

Rite of Passage

In the late 80s, I was very successful as CEO in "growing" a struggling NGO in South Carolina. Then recruited for another job,  I informed my Board, and was told they were having a "community thank-you party" in my honor. 

"What would you like as a gift? We are all chipping in," my Board Chairman asked me.

A bit taken aback, I replied: "Well, I've always wanted a leather briefcase." 

So, at the event, my Board presented me with this leather briefcase.

A few days later, I took it into where it had been purchased, and asked  what to use to clean it. The clerk commented: "Take good care of that.... you might want insurance. It's the best we have."

I asked: "Just curious, how much did it cost?" 

The clerk replied: "Oh, about $825."

I about swallowed my dentures.

So, 27 years later,  I'm giving it to my son, when I see him next Saturday.

Hope it brings him as much luck as it has me over the years. It has traveled many career paths since...and the world; stained with late winter snow in St. Petersburg, Russia; pelted by hot rain in Shanghai, China; and battered, buffeted and abused by baggage handlers in Cali, Columbia.

It needs a good, new home, too ...a fresh start and new life... carrying "important" papers and weekend reading assignments.

And there is no better place for it to call home than with my son, Josh.

Remember The Red River Valley

“Eddy,” asks, like clockwork, as he helps pass out food trays and refills small glasses with watery apple juice.

And again at evening time: “What cha doin after dinner, Phil? Goin outside?”

At breakfast, about 70 seniors, most with noticeable physical and/or mental challenges, wait patiently for staff to distribute small containers of pills.

Kitchen helpers roll in large metal warmers, containing tin trays, with scrambled eggs, sausage, a piece of toast, jelly, butter, and glass of juice.

Everyone waits patiently, 3 or 4 residents to a table, for the food. For the food is the focus on the day -- three times a day for those in this 'assisted living facility.'

“What cha doin after breakfast, Bill? Goin outside?”

“What cha doin after breakfast, Sally? Goin outside?“

The facility serves poor seniors; and those with emotional and physical problems that would bar admission or acceptance elsewhere.  

There is no airconditioning in the congregate dining room in the summer, and a chill fills the room this winter  morning.

You're reminded of life changes and lessons in a 'retirement home'. About caring. Weaknesses. Emotional strength and friendship in the face of aged bodies, missing legs from diabetes, missing brain power from onset and end stage dementia.

Residents and low-paid staff are much like family. Usually cheerful, upbeat, encouraging, good listeners. Occasionally loud, unhappy, jealous, brusk.

Then tonight, the late day sun peeks in the first floor dining hall ….as residents eat hamburgers with tomatoes, onions, mustard and ketchup, applesauce, and a single, round cookie the size of a quarter.

This lovely, at one time elegant, elderly lady with red hair had sat, just this morning, with her small table group of resident friends across the way; smiling, engaged, animated.

Now, she sits at the same dinner table,  head half bent forward, resting on her chest, eyes blank, untouched food before her.

In the distance, are the faint sounds of the auto organ in the recreation room, playing "Red River Valley":

 From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our path for a while

Come and sit by my side if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
But remember the Red River Valley
And the cowboy who loved you so true

Won't you think of the valley you're leaving
Oh how lonely, how sad it will be?
Oh think of the fond heart you're breaking
And the grief you are causing to me

As you go to your home by the ocean
May you never forget those sweet hours
That we spent in the Red River Valley
And the love we exchanged mid the flowers

A Good Day To Wear My 'Fighting Irish' Sweatshirt

Notre Dame was outplayed by Alabama on the football field last night.

But it will never be outclassed after a football loss -- just as other great universities and programs never will be, when they lose --  the University of Michigan, Michigan State, Stanford, Northwestern, Boston College....to name just a few.

I'm going to proudly wear the green ND sweatshirt today, the one my son gave me for my birthday.  And keep a smile on my face.

Because, my love of Notre Dame and the Irish has to do with what the University and its football program stand for:  values, treating athletes like students, insisting on performance in the classroom as well as performance on the field.   

Go Gold and Blue. Green and White. Maize and Blue. Purple and White. Cardinal Red. Maroon and Gold.

HOLIDAY BLUES AND UNION DUES

As some of you know, I tend to obsess about things I see, hear, experience, read, screw up, celebrate. And I'm in that mode this morning, after returning from a 5 a.m. sprint through the Meijer's store to buy a few basics. I'm upset about how truly UNcivil, selfish, meanspirited we seem to be these days.

And about the mess, the lack of civility, the trashing of tents and tempers, the behavior in Lansing yesterday, which was replayed on BBC World Service Radio to 280 million worldwide listeners all last night. The British, of course, love retelling with glee, bad news from The Colonies.

The Meijer worker bees were busy, as usual, this early morning. With stacks of grape crates, tomatoes, lettuce in the produce section. Working hard. But not a smile to be found. And a strange absense of the natural energy you notice in people when they are doing a job they enjoy and/or take satisfaction in.

About eight months ago, when I was literally without both a job and almost enough to eat, I applied for a job to work in this SAME Meijer store produce section.

I was interviewed by the Produce Team Leader, and learned they had 23 people working JUST in the produce section; but were down to only about 13 because of turnover. She seemed excited at the prospect of hiring me, but I became less so as the interview continued.

"Yes," she said. 'We start you out at $7.53 an hour. (Minimum wage). You're eligible for a 10 cent increase in 3 months. You'll have to buy your own standard kakki colored slacks and button down shirts. I can guarantee you 24 hours a week; but can probably give you more ...

"And, oh," she added. "We take out $25 a month (from your pay) for union dues."

I just held my pasty smile tight as glass, and stared at her. $25 FOR UNION DUES?, I thought to myself. And 24 hours at minimum wage, pay for uniforms, and might get a 10 cent raise in 3 months?

I drove home, called and cancelled the scheduled final followup interview with the store manager.

Life has looked up for me, since, and my wants and needs are small.

I have another part-time job now.

I get a little Social Security.

I've been buying small gifts for my grandkids again. I've learned that's more fun than driving a new car, or taking a First Class seat to Hong Kong.

As for the unions, and what happened in Lansing yesterday.... I'm going to try hard to keep my attitude on gratitude this Christmas Season.

But, I still wonder, what those Meijer Associates on Columbia Avenue are getting for their monthly union dues.

It's gotta be more than what's in their paycheck.

‘Touchdown Jesus’ Still Loves You, Frank DeFord

Frank DeFord was on the radio early last summer. National Public Radio's Morning Edition.

 Where DeFord, a much decorated sports guru and journalist, proclaimed in his weekly commentary: “Notre Dame Football Is Dead.”

Notre Dame will never compete with the big guys again, he said.

Nada. 

Done.

Overwith.

Washed up.

A pigskin has-been.

A legend lost ….

Future Fighting Irish teams would be off tv and traveling coach by Greyhound bus to play  Division 2 teams in places like Grand Rapids, Michigan and Duluth, Minnesota.

DeFord’s gotten rather quiet since the Fighting Irish took the field in August.

And Wikepedia doesn't say whether DeFord personally follows Christ-as-Saviour or just the baseball box scores.

But, if you learn anything growing up Catholic -- as I did -- it’s the power and potential of casting off personal guilt through confession and forgiveness.

Is DeFord ready for confession?

No matter. 

Because, Frank -- wherever you are this morning after the Irish whipped USC, to go 12-0, and be ranked #1 nationally ...

  The Fighting Irish made their point last night in Los Angeles,

and Frank, Frank.... Touchdown Jesus Still Loves You.

Black Friday or Dark Day

at Wal-Mart’s Big House?

Yesterday at Thanksgiving Dinner with friends, we got into a discussion about the employee boycott today over wages at some Wal-Mart Stores, now America’s largest private employer.

Does Wal-Mart have a responsibility to pay “a living wage”?

 What is a “living wage?”

Where does personal responsibility come in at life decisions points which impact income?  Decisions like finishing high school, going to college, showing up on time for a job? 

Are we responsible for pulling ourselves up by “our bootstraps” if we had no boots to wear growing up?

What about the uncontrollable influences of family life, racism, and other factors?

We turned off the discussion pretty quick yesterday.  Heady, perhaps inappropriate, topical stuff for Stuffing and Turkey Day.

To be honest, at age 68, I remain conflicted over these questions and what I see and hear – even what I believe.

Over a lifetime, I had my turn grabbing the brass ring, the ride on the corporate merry-go-road – corner offices, world travel, fancy cars, big homes.

I’ve always told myself I earned that success by hard work, long hours, taking risks, going to graduate school, etc.

But, did I, really?

Looking back, I had many unearned advantages:  great parents, direction and hope, values taught and learned, a lot of luck.

More and more people today do not live in that world.

And it seems just too easy to become fatalistic, even hardened to their problems and their lives.

Still, I don’t think “a living wage” for the $7.50 an hour Wal-Mart Associates is either the real problem, or the real solution.

If there’s a problem and a solution, it has to begin with future generations, with our families, our children, our schools…and their future.

Otherwise, Black Friday is always going to be a dark day for some of us.

A Bucket Full of Thankfulness

For several mornings…perhaps in anticipation of Thanksgiving … I’ve been thinking of what I’m most thankful for at close of 2012, my 68th year on this Earth. 

So over the Starbuck’s French Roast at 4 a.m., I jotted down this bucket list of thankfulness:

brother, son, grandchildren, family, deceased parents, 29 close friends, personal health, a Hickory Corners mentor, being an American, good books, a year of golf, a special friend struggling today with illness, enough money to live on, being Catholic, not being Catholic, ND football, Dinki, The Respectmobile, laughter, forgiveness, The Beatles, St. Joseph nuns, growing up in Kansas City, De La Salle Academy, the pleasure of writing, good coffee, waking up in the morning.

Beast of Burden:

All I want is you to make love to me

Spent yesterday on problems with The Respectmobile, which I’m losing respect for.

It may be the beginning of a failed relationship.

          The second month … and she’s suddenly the horror car in Stephen King’s Christine.

 "So, another paycheck, hey, hay, hay, Jim?” she sez this morning.

“Sweet!

“Put it HERE!  Right in my glove box envelope marked: “CAR REPAIR BILLS.”

“Think you can just ignore me, now you got a litle’ bread.  Do ya, Jim?

“Maybe find someone N-E-W.

          “Faster and who doesn’t pass so much gas?

“Sparkly grill? 

“Big treads, tush tires? 

“Soft back seat?

“A GPS screen on the dash?

“I-Tunes on the radio?”

          “More rock and roll between her rack and pinions?

“I’m just that old, old, worn out puta, right, Jim? That was your go-to girl in the tough times, took you to the store, church, carried you safely through snow and sleet all the way back to Missouri to see that brother of yours …

But, Jim, like Mick and Keith sang:

I'll never be your beast of burden
My back is broad but it's a hurting
All I want is for you to make love to me
I'll never be your beast of burden
I've rode for miles my feet are hurting
All I want is you to make love to me

Am I hard enough
Am I rough enough
Am I rich enough
I'm not too blind to see

“You haven’t lubed my parts or rubbed your hand caressingly over my rocker panels lately.

“You left me out in the cold last night, Jim.  I didn’t like that. 

“Would YOU like to be left outside?  With your doors unlocked? Open, naked, exposed to taunts of the trailer trash and their beer bottles across the street?

“At heart, I’m still a Blue and Black Michigan State Trooper car, police interceptor, a real Crown Vic 4.6 liter V-8, and if pushed could reach that 140-mph peg line again.

See, “I get my props and I get my r-e-s-p-e-c-t.  Or….. 

‘Step outside the car, Sir. Show me your license, insurance and registration. Do it now! Sir.’

“Is that really what you want, Jim?”

“So about that smoke yesterday.  

“Those unsightly new drips under my chassis.

“My hiccups, hesitation, when you pushed the gas pedal. 

The silence when you tried to turn me on in the Meijers parking lot?

“It’s not too late, Jim.

Like Barney sez,

“I love you You love me 
We're a happy family 
With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you. 
Won't you say you love me too.”
I love you You love me 
We're best friends like friends should be.”

Aren’t we, Jim? 

Don’t disappoint me, Jim

Red Cheeks But Warm Hearts As Volunteers

 “WrapUp” Urbandale Community Garden’s Season

Photo Caption:  Volunteers Kathy Antaya and Pat Graw begin to winterize the one-acre Urbandale Community Vegetable Garden this morning (Oct 9), located as part of the Leila Arboretum campus on W. Michigan Avenue in Battle Creek. 

More than 15 volunteers, plus 30 Burmese families, have tended and received produce from the Garden, the largest urban garden in the Battle Creek area, during the past growing season. 

The upscale Malia’s Restaurant, downtown Battle Creek, has also purchased much of its produce from the site; with proceeds used to support the community garden operation.  

Antaya is the informal coordinator of the UCVG and a horticulturalist and green industry consultant by profession.  Graw retired after 44 years as a food service manager, including at Bronson-Battle Creek (hospital).

Love’s Labor Lost in the Wal-Mart Checkout Line

No, he’d never been in the Wal-Mart superstore.

Until last night.

Using one of those person-less, scan, pay and bag your own groceries checkouts, the old man in faded blue jeans and frayed t-shirt seemed momentarily confused over where to put the credit card; how to scan the groceries.

He felt a sudden presence, or energy, radiating from behind, like heat from a hot stove.

Almost a premonition.

He turned.

A young woman, about 30, with crystal blue, piercing eyes, was standing there.Unseasonably dressed in modish hat and long skirt – like Mia Farrow, Diane Keaton in a Woody Allen movie.

She flashed a wide, innocent, welcoming smile, teeth as white as ocean pearls.

Even more flustered, the old man thought: ‘If this is heaven, Lord, let her be my guardian angel.’

His eyes traveled furtively, shyly to hers, then uncontrollably down to an oversized breast badge on her green and white-tinged, herringbone coat. 

         SISTER PAVOLA

        Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints

He turned back, ashamed he knew not why, to nervously scan bread, peanut butter and cat food, running hand through balding spot on back of head, and tried to keep from stumbling toward the exit door.

Driving A Cab In Battle Creek: 'I watch their eyes'

Bright lights of the Yellow cab emerged out of the early morning fog and mist, on time, at 6:05.

It’s been years since they found that cab driver's body, left stuffed in the trunk, in the Riverside School parking lot.

But the cabbies don’t forget.

And lots have changed: Taxi cabs now have a bulletproof, sliding plastic barrier between drivers, and passengers in the back seat.

Rear door locks can be controlled by the driver.

But it's dangerous work. Not much money.

"I rent this thing (cab) from the company. $80 a day plus gas. Anything over that I keep," the cabbie tells me.

"You can make $100 sometimes, if you wanna work a 14-hour day."

Cold days are better than warm.

Rain better than sunshine.

He appreciates the approach of winter.

"People don't like to stand out and freeze waiting for a bus," he says.

"First, Second and Third days of the month, everybody’s busy. People get their (SSI or SS) money."

There are usually 8 to 10 'Yellow' cabs on call in BC, plus several other cab companies, if you don't mind the occasional lingering smell of puke in the back seats.

Could he refuse a fare, if worried about getting stuffed in his trunk?, I asked.

"Hey, if we fear for our life, we don't have to pick up nobody," he commented.

How do you decide?

"You get a sense for it after a while.

“Time of day.

“Where they want to go. “

Who'se with them.

“I always, always watch their eyes."

I pay the fare, push a $4 tip through the glass cutout, thinking that, race and class may also be silent passengers in many a cab ride.

McNamara, 'Rummy,' And The Misery Revisited

by Jim Richmond

The old man next to me at the dinner table in New York City was still recognizable. But barely.

Gone was the black hair; replaced by a few white strands combed to hide his scalp.

Brown, age and liver spots dotted his now sunken cheeks and pencil-thin face.

Only the eyeglasses were familar from TV news clips in the mid 1960s.

It was Robert McNamara, Secretary of Defense under LBJ, who with his “Whiz Kids” from the auto industry, carried out LBJ’s dictums in Vietnam; while trying to apply business management systems to the Defense Department.

McNamara served longer than anyone else in American history as DOD Secretary. 

But when he retired, many believed McNamara had failed in Vietnam.  And had setbacks in modernizing the U.S. military.

So, here it was, in the early 1990s, as I sat next to him at this  black tie, charitable fundraising dinner in New York

I was nearly tongued-tied. Not that I didn't know what to say to or ask McNamara.  As a Vietman vet, I had questions.

But the evening, the timing seemed inappropriate, wrong.   My questions would be too pointed, I convinced myself. 

So I let the chance go by. Confined  comments to small talk about economics and the World Bank, which McNamara headed after leaving government service.

Vietnam still seemed like the big, silent elephant at our table.

I recalled this unsatisying experience the other evening  as I viewed, again,   the 6-hour Frontline  series "Bush's War," telecast on PBS, and watched another Secretary of Defense, who, next to McNamara, served the longest  tenure in American history as DOD Secretary: Donald Rumsfeld.

The PBS-TV series depicts  Rumsfield as a no-holds-barred White House infighter, who took on the State Department and the generals, to advocate,  with Dick Chaney, for  a quick, decisive  invasion of Iraq after 9/11.

Like McNamara, Rumsfield is proven myopic in his global and battlefield perspective of a geographic region and a very different type of military conflict.

And, also like McNamara, Rumsfield experiences  setbacks in efforts to reinvent, streamline  and downsize the Defense Department -- some reflecting a new reality after 9/11. (He gets a large measure of the blame/credit  for the latest BRAC efforts to close the Battle Creek Federal Center and other military installations  over the past 25 years or so.)

New York Times stories (and Bob Woodward's books and articles) have profiled McNamara and Rumsfield:  Their  micromanaging, impatience,  arrogance. (Rumsfield was a member of the Kellogg Company Board of Directors for a time.  There are less than flattering local  stories in that venue.)

Since his DOD departure, the 80-so-old Rumsfield has been out of public view....probably savoring his later years in St. Michaels, Maryland, on the former slave plantation he owns  and calls "Mount Misery,"  infamous as site for  captivity of Frederick Douglass at hands of  "slave breaker" Edward Covey.

Rumsfield is reportedly a multimillionare from his business turnaround years as head of G.D. Searle and other multinational corporations.

We probably won't know -- for sure -- the outcome of the Iraq War for decades -- just as we are only now rewriting outcomes of the Vietnam Conflict, in light of the 'new' Vietnam's pell mell rush toward capitalism. (The Domino Theory turned out to be about capitalism, not communism.)

McNamara died in 2009 at age 92.  Wish I could have collected on a rain check from that dinner chat of long ago.

Ask those questions about Vietnam.

Hope "Rummy" is happy on  Mount Misery.

Nothing New with Bo Xilai’s Dalian, China Corruption: 

Kill Chicken, To Frighten Monkey 

Bo Xilai was mayor of Dalian, a lovely city in Northern China, next to the Yalu River and the border with North Korea, when I travelled there frequently in the early 2000s to visit with Chinese inlaws, who were also intertwined in local Communist party politics.  I don’t recall meeting Bo Xilai, but his type of behavior was common. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/29/world/asia/bo-xilai-expelled-from-chinas-communist-party.html?ref=global-home

***

The Chinese love fish head soup.  With the head left floating in the broth.

The cheeks of the fish head are considered the most delicate and desirable. 

The guest of honor at the typical Chinese dinner is offered opportunity to eat the fish's cheeks.

Which I did one evening.

Dinner with my Chinese wife and her family in Dalian, northern China, just across the Yalu River from N. Korea.

         A typically crowded, noisy, smoky Chinese restaurant -- families having dinner, business/communist party officials soaking up free food and drink.

About 20 family members and their friends, sitting around a table -- rotating food platter in the middle and stacked with perhaps 30 different food dishes.

Suddenly, my wife's uncle, face aglow and eyes watering from the  toasts, a poo-ba in the Dalian Communist Party and host for the evening, yells at the waiter in Chinese about the quality of the fish head soup.

The waiter slinks off.  Replaced by the Restaurant Manager dragging behind him a cook clad in a filthy uniform. 

Wife translates for me:

"Cook is fired!," restaurant manager proclaims to Uncle.

‘New’ waiters bring a platter of complimentary green beans with hot, spicy pepper slices, and bottles of pungent rice wine.

Chinese uncle smiles, leans over, says something to Wife.

I ask: “What did Uncle say?”

She whispers: “Kill chicken, to frighten the monkey.”

Father Knows Best

Every night now, when I arrive home from work, pull the Respectmobile in the drive, and unlock the back door, my cat Dinky rushes into the kitchen, does a little twirl, a pirouette, of welcome.

It’s not exactly a Margaret Anderson/Jane Wyatt, “Father Knows Best” kiss and a hug at the door.

But it does quite nicely.

Quite nicely.

For now.

Rust Bucket...But its OUR Rust Bucket Aircraft Carrier.

Chinese are such proud, nationalistic people....

I was sitting in a fancy Dalian restaurant in 2002, overlooking the Yalu River harbor and this rust bucket, second hand Russian carrier at long rest, when my Chinese uncle and Communist Party boo pah, pointed out into the harbor, and said: "Soon, we have almost NEW carrier!"

Having served 3 years on a USA barely post WWII carrier, I knew what I was looking at...but nodded politely.  

Ten years later, they have the old "jump" carrier back in shape and, Im sure, stuffed with the latest electronics, and ready to do braggery and buffery with the Japanese, Vietnamese, USA, etc. in the South China Sea.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/26/world/asia/china-shows-off-an-aircraft-carrier-but-experts-are-skeptical.html?ref=global-home

Searchin for a Heart of Gold....and Gettin Old.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh44QPT1mPE

People like Neil Young, Janis Joplin and others were a common sidewalk sight, when I was living in the Twin Peaks area of San Francisco in '69.

As Young notes in this story about himself,http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/magazine/neil-young-comes-clean.html I, too have spent a lifetime being most happy when I was 'going to, or away from someplace new or, in contrast, singularily familiar.' As long as I was moving, both physically and intellectually.

I've also tried, a bit like Young, through world travel and living, dialogue, reading and writ

Today, Neil Young -- this age contemporary -- is also a visual reminder of how old we are getting :-). 

Well, enough on that.... I don't have to work today, so think I'll get in the Bug, drive over The Gate, sip a glass of founders estate Cabernet at Beringer Brothers Winery, and see if I can find Young's ranch. Not that he'll unlock any of those fence gates. 

Anyone wanna come along? We'll be back before dusk. :-)

When Autumn Leaves Begin To Fall

Autumn is my favorite time.

Bright color of the leaves.

Chill in the air.

The innocent enthusiasm of college football.

Halloween fun.

But it’s also a bittersweet season.
 
Each year, as red leaves turn to yellow, fade and fall, I’m reminded of the story about the little girl, losing her Mother to a rapidly advancing and incurable disease.
 
The doctor, and the little girl’s father, try to prepare the child for the loss.
 
“When will my Mommy die?” the child asks the doctor, who replies: “When the leaves begin to fall.”
 
Six months later, in mid-October, the father looks out the window of their home. 

There, in the front yard, is the little girl, trying to paste fallen leaves back on the Maple tree.
 
Of course, we can’t paste leaves back on a tree. Any more than avoid death of those we love.
 
Still, at the end, we have our memories to cherish.

My tiny, Irish mother doing the family wash by hand – with crooked arms broken in childhood.

Her saying, late in life and lonely, “Come on Jimmy, let’s go sit on the porch and talk.”
 
Yes, I remember.

When autumn leaves begin to fall.

Jim Richmond with his mother at McNamara Family gravesite in Atchison, Kansas, USA,  shortly before her own

death in 2003.

Bright Red Roofed Cupola Important Part of Battle Creek History

Driving west on Michigan Avenue from downtown Battle Creek area, one suddenly sees on the right a model hot air balloon and bright red roofed cupola of the Leila Arboretum’s Children’s Garden. 

The cupola is at the heart -- the center -- of the Children’s Garden as it also was, for all of Battle Creek, near the turn of the 19^th Century when the Battle Creek Sanitarium drew thousands of patients in search of better health, and, not long after, the birth of the related Battle Creek breakfast cereal boom.

The large handsome louvered cupola originally topped a pillared wrap-around porch of the grand fieldstone building (the largest in the United States) which opened as the Phelps Sanitorium on Washington Avenue, across from Emmett Street on October 10, 1900.

In 1911, the “Fieldstone Building” was acquired by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, as an annex to the Battle Creek Sanitarium.  It was later used as a hospital by the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. After years of attempting to raise the significant funds that were necessary to save and restore the then condemned Fieldstone Building, it was concluded the enormous expense was too great of a burden for this small community to undertake.  In December 1985, demolition began on what was North America’s largest fieldstone building.

Garth “Duff” Stoltz, a former employee of the Fieldstone Building and a Battle Creek historian, led a group of Battle Creek citizens in an effort to preserve some part of this unique building for history and future generations.  Thus began the quest to save the cupola as a memento to what once stood tall in the Battle Creek community as a symbol of health and scientific discovery.  

Because the demolition company owned all remains of the building, Stoltz and the Adventist Hospital purchased the cupola for $2,600. 

In 1993, Dr. Tom Bruce of the W. K. Kellogg Foundation and Board President of Leila Arboretum Society (LAS) at the time, approached Stoltz and Ronald Brown, president of the Adventist Hospital to consider donating the Cupola to LAS.  Through the perseverance of Dr. Bruce, Stoltz and Brown agreed to donate the Cupola to LAS in exchange for a donation of $2,600 from Dr. Bruce to the Adventist Church. 

            LAS wanted to restore and preserve the cupola and make it once again available to the community.

In 2000, the Leila Arboretum Society began the design process for its most unique project to date, a Children’s Garden.  Design consultants Jane Taylor and Deb Kinney, who teamed up to create the award-winning Michigan 4-H Children’s Garden at Michigan State University, developed the plans for LAS’ new Children’s Garden.  When a picture of the Cupola was shown to Taylor and Kinney, they were excited and started developing all of the mini-themes of the Garden around the Cupola, thus making it the centerpiece of the Garden.  In 1985, demolition began on the building.

The cupola became the design centerpiece for the Society’s new and unique Children’s Garden: A 16-foot tall, 8-feet in diameter octagon structure made of wood, tin and metal complete with a working door and a 16-foot wood mast perched on top of its signature bright red dome.

Battle Creek Architect and historian Randy Case and his firm Architecture + design Inc. designed and specified the work in the children’s garden and the cupola restoration.

Today, the cupola sits high above the Children’s Garden on 16 columns, paired and identical to those that originally existed on the front porch of the original Fieldstone Building.  These columns rest on top of a 3-foot high foundation, which is made from fieldstones saved from the original Fieldstone Building, creating a gazebo. 

The entire structure stretches 48-feet in the air, creating an amazing site for travelers on West Michigan Avenue.  Visitors begin their visit to the Garden at the cupola, and by exploring historic plants, wheat and corn, and the particular role they play to not only science but also to the history of Battle Creek.

Stop by and visit the Leila Arboretum’s unique Children’s Garden, open daily and on weekends.  No admission is charged.

Larry Bridges Loves Being ‘On The Road’ In Urbandale

I was sitting, waiting for tires to be put on the front end The Respectmobile, at 8 a.m. this morning, chatting it up with Larry Bridges, who recently moved his "On The Road" Towing from Upton Avenue to W. Michigan Avenue in Urbandale.

"Hey, did you see the story on us, front page of today's paper?," he asked. Sure enough. (Below's the link.)

Larry and I ended up talking about City Commissioners, the upcoming election, religion, his marriages, growing up days in rural Kentucky, and the ups and downs of the towing business.

All I know is that if you want HONEST service on a tow....or need tires...or minor service work like an oil change, you can't go wrong by calling Larry or his son Eddie, at On The Road, 269.964.9009, or stopping by 1382 W. Michigan Avenue.

"We love Urbandale. Our business has tripled since we moved here," Larry said.

Here’s the link to this morning’s newspaper article:
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/article/20120912/NEWS01/309120020/Companies-say-city-towing-policy-killing-them?nclick_check=1

Photo Caption:  Larry and son Eddie in front of their relocated business on W. Michigan Avenue in Battle Creek, Mi, USA.

 Author's note: kids actually planning and leading an important community effort they really care about... Are you out and about Battle Creek on Sat. 29th? Stop by, check it out, buy some terrific pizza and support a worthwhile, grassroots community initiative. :-)  -- Jim R.

Kids Help Organize Sept 29^th

‘Voices for Recovery’ Festival

Area youth and more than 10 service organizations are joining together to plan and help host a day-long “Voices for Recovery Festival” enhancing awareness and support for programs and people involved in recovery from alcohol, drugs and other forms of addiction.

The Festival, open to all but especially for other youth, will be Saturday, September 29, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. at Bill’s Pizza Factory, 256 Helmer Road (across from airport), and will spotlight live performances by five local musical bands, a Battle Creek Blaze Football clinic for kids, rap poetry readings, kids basketball tournament, a clothing drive for kids’ new or gently used items, disk golf demonstration and lessons, face painting and variety of other activities.

Primary sponsors are the Substance Abuse and Prevention Council and the Alano Club of Battle Creek, along with a wide variety of other organizations involved, including The Haven of Rest’s Life Recovery Program, Starr Commonwealth, the Drug/Sobriety/Juvenile courts, City Parks and Recreation, the VA Medical Center, CityLincC, Kinetic Affect, Starrstruq Dance Academy, Battle Creek Knights, The Mylstone Project, United Ways and HandsOn Battle Creek.

A planning committee of area youth from the Alano Club’s Kids2Kids Program, originally funded by Post Foods and the Battle Creek Community Foundation, has had a central role in planning and in coordinating the activities, according to Danielle Evans, program manager of the Club.

“We are excited by the incredible collaboration by area organizations for the Festival, and because youth – themselves – are actually providing much of the leadership and work for it,” Evans noted.

Ten percent of all pizza sales during the Festival will be donated by Bill’s Pizza Factory to support the programs and outreach services of the Substance Abuse Council and the Alano Club.

For more information, call the Substance Abuse Council at 968-4699, or contact Evans at 269-317-3874, email: mhd712@sbcglobal.net.

No Free Lunch

In Calhoun County Jail

My phone rang late one recent evening.

“Jim? It’s Tommy,” the voice on the line said. 

“Where ya been, Tommy?,” I asked the guy, who I knew casually from several years ago, when helping raise money for the new Alano Club (12-step addiction recovery) facility on Territorial Road.

“Been in the (Calhoun County) Jail ... 87 days,” Tommy said. “Can you do me a favor? Drive me over to Meijer’s tonight to buy groceries?”

Tommy, in his ‘50s, lives with his parents, who are in their 80s and in poor health. 

Tommy is a chronic alcoholic, to the point where he's “disabled” by his alcoholism, and collects $900 a month in Social Security Disability.

So I drive out, pick Tommy up at his parents’ house, and we stop by the McDonalds on S.W. Capital before heading to Meijer’s on B Drive to get his groceries, and then back to Horrock’s, for some hot chili sauce he has a post partum craving for.

On the ride, and over a soft drink at the McDonalds, I learned a lot about life in the Calhoun County Jail, where, Tommy said, “Everyone but the illegal immigrants pay for every fu*ck*n thing they give us.”

It was hard to work up much sympathy.

But, evidently, Tommy was pretty much on target about the Jail and the money thing.

The Jail charged him $37 for every night he spent in the place, he claimed.

He complained he'd paid for a new pair of underpants ("or ya had to sleep naked on your bunk"), his toothbrush, for having his blood pressure checked, for a couple of aspirins, and extra for some condiments to put on his two hot dogs and four pieces of bread daily fare, which consisted mostly of grits, oatmeal, bread, Kool-Aid, and the hot dogs.

Tommy said he was only in the Jail for a few days before catching an antibiotic resistant staph infection that left him with blisters and boils, also common in hospitals and nursing homes.

Reveille was at 5:30, then breakfast, then two hours to sleep back in the Jail “pod” which houses about 48 inmates on two floors, two inmates to a cell.

After lunch, more sleep or reading religious (only) materials, dinner, followed by taps and lights out around 9.

About 600 inmates are in the Calhoun County jail at any one time, Tommy said.

"I met rapists and murderers in there, but mostly guys who owe lots of child support.  And heroin addicts.  Heroin's big," he told me.

“What’d you learn from the experience?,” I inquired, as we carried the groceries up the steps into his parents’ house about 9 p.m.

“Just I never wanna to go back,” Tommy said.

I started to pull out of the driveway to leave, backed up, and said: “Tommy, DON’T drink. Get to a (12-step) meeting. Call if you need a ride or wanna talk.”

Tommy doesn’t have any chances left, before spending time in a state prison. Or much time before dying from his alcoholism, if he continues to drink.

I’ll help him when I can.  If he starts helping himself.

You can’t make a person stop drinking.
--------------------------
Note: I continued to take Tommy to the grocery store about once a week for a month, since neither of his parents drive. Then, he started calling me at night, drunk.  The last time, about three weeks ago, he was incoherent and said he'd just falled down the stairs to his basement bedroom and that there were spiders  and rats crawling in his hair.  I called 911 and later learned two County sherriff officers and an ambulance forced his admittal to a local hospital. “Tommy’s” name  and a few details have been changed.

Laura Davis:

Quiet Leader for Downtown’s

Challenging Rebirth

Story and Photo by Jim Richmond

As Battle Creek celebrates its latest downtown improvements, digging through local history revealed quiet leadership by one individual -- 27 years ago – that reshaped and revitalized the center city in a dramatic, profound and lasting way that makes today’s modest civic enhancements seem, like,  well, comparing a parking lot to a pyramid.  And it was a near monumental effort that took patience, fortitude and nearly $90 million.

The quiet leader behind it all was Laura A. Davis, who in 1985 was a Vice President of the W. K. Kellogg Foundation, and was asked to meet with then Foundation CEO Russell Mawby. 

Davis recalls Mawby saying: “Laura, how would you like to build a building?”  She replied: “Russ, I’ve never built anything.”

But Mawby thought Davis had just the right stuff for the job: “I picked Laura because she knew the community, cherished its roots and history, was good with people, planning, thoughtful and thorough,” Mawby said in a recent telephone interview.

Davis accepted the challenge of leading a national site search for a new W. K. Kellogg Foundation headquarters, with the Foundation settling on an East Michigan Avenue location in downtown Battle Creek.

“We could have built the headquarters in any community, at any location.  But Russ and the Board of Trustees wanted it to be in Battle Creek, and where the project could have most economic development impact in terms of construction jobs, and in terms of the future of the downtown,” Davis recalled.

She then coordinated the massive five-year project, which included negotiating purchase of 43 individual downtown properties from owners– many of the properties run down and empty, and only a few with historical value. 

The Foundation also paid for the relocation of 14 tenant businesses, and constructed a new Riverwalk Center complex to house some of the tenants.

The new Foundation headquarters building would encompass 213,000 square feet of space on three floors, with an attractive red brick, steel and glass façade.

Davis said the Foundation saw it primarily as an economic development and downtown revitalization effort.  “We were guided by the question: ‘How can we have the most positive impact on Battle Creek?’”

The Foundation insisted on using local and Michigan architects, lawyers, planners, and construction personnel for all aspects of the project.  The Foundation building was furnished with equipment, offices, furniture, kitchen and computers from local and Michigan suppliers.

Davis often spent 16-hour days, for the five years, in her small, cramped portable office near the downtown construction site. 

She said she learned a lot, and had to overcome some misperceptions in the mostly male construction business.

Early in the planning, she was the only woman in the room with project architects and a large number of construction contractors present to hear about bidding parameters.

“One of the guys said he could sure use a cup of coffee.  So I got up, and casually poured a cup for him,” Davis said.

“Boy was he surprised, when the architect then introduced me as the owner’s representative!” she continued with a laugh.

Davis is proud she brought the downtown redevelopment effort in “on time and on budget,” in spite of the complicated property acquisitions, new building construction,  replacement parking lots for the City of Battle Creek, the Riverwalk Centre complex, and a new Mill Race Park.

“Everyone worked together – the Foundation, the City, Cereal City Development Corporation, property owners, history buffs, civic leaders – to make it happen.  It showed what a City can do, when you have a positive, can do attitude.”

Davis retired from the Kellogg Foundation staff in 1997 after a 33 year career.

Copyright, 2012, Jim Richmond.  All rights reserved.

PEACE IF NOT LOVE IN HAPPY VALLEY

This is a 'shout-out' to my friend Laurie Sullivan who provided TRULY expert advice on how to stair-step socialize and acclimate my cat Dinky, with my son's visiting 60 pound Black Lab/Rott, "Paris."

A rather traumatic Paris visit for Dinky six months or so ago, has, so far, been a cake-walk or should I say, cat-walk.

Dinky takes comfort in the no sudden loss of territorial imperative, and realizes keeping peace instead of making war can be fun, even with what instinctively looms as an emotionally oppressive, threatening and intolerable new presence and intrusion in daily life as we know it on Broadway Blvd in Battle Creek, MI, USA.

There is co-existence, stability, neah happiness, this morning, in this little patch of Urbandale.

 Who sez we can't learn from our pets?

Now, think I'll take Paris for a walk, and say a prayer for those in Happy Valley.

Memorial Park Cemetery in Battle Creek:

Where Care and Caring Really Matter

           Motorists navigating the fast paced traffic along Columbia Avenue and Helmer Road have little time to notice the nearby 84 acres and 5 miles of pathways that embrace one of Battle Creek’s loveliest and best maintained cemeteries, known as the not-for-profit Memorial Park Cemetery Association.

The Cemetery is unique in the nation for being owned and operated by a service organization, the Battle Creek Kiwanis Club. 

Established as a privately funded cemetery by pioneer funeral home owner and director Andy Hebbel in 1924, Memorial Park was the first “modern” cemetery in Battle Creek, designed in advance, laid out like a subdivision, with careful attention to family plots, pathways, lovely trees, fountains, and even a small lake and an attractive chapel and mausoleum.

Particular attention has been given to maintaining precise records on the people and the graves of the some 23,000 people buried there.

Andy Hebbel and his wife Ester, who had no heirs, donated the cemetery to the Kiwanis Club, which operates the cemetery as a community service.

The Club elects the Cemetery’s all volunteer Board of Directors and Club members devote lots of time to seasonal cemetery upkeep and various memorial day efforts.

Jim Talbot, a friendly and engaging person perhaps reflecting his past career as a savings and loan vice president, has been managing the Cemetery since 1991, which has a full-time staff of 5 people, including 3 permanent ground crew workers, plus 4 seasonal workers.

Talbot said the Cemetery is self sustaining from perpetual care, interment rights and service fees. 

“We’ve seen lots of changes in the death care industry in recent decades,” Talbot observed. “More baby boomers are deciding on cremation rather than burial.  Families are also waiting to hold memorial services til later, when family and friends can gather from out of town.  It helps spread out the costs as well.”

Memorial Park staff members Jim Talbot (left) and Doug Felter.

A grave, full service interment and ground memorial is only about $2,500 at the Cemetery, but Talbot noted that funeral home costs “can add around $6,500” for embalming, casket and other services.

“Cemeteries are all about ritual and a permanent memorial – protecting the dignity and the memory of those who can’t protect their own dignity,” Talbot said.

Memorial Park Cemetery is maintained in pristine condition by Grounds Manager Doug Felter and his staff, and they are very visible cutting grass, trimming bushes and trees, and handling all the details of burials, which average about one each day at the Cemetery.

Most hours of the day, a few area residents can also be seen walking the Cemetery’s meandering pathways.  It is, perhaps, one of the most attractive and safe walking areas in greater Battle Creek.

Talbot says the Cemetery doesn’t mind the walkers one bit. “We want people to know more about Memorial Park.  Individuals pick a cemetery for themselves or loved ones because they know about it, because they have family or friends buried here.”

There’s plenty of room remaining at Memorial Park – about 50 percent of burial plots have been sold, but only about 20 percent are already used.  The Cemetery primarily serves the area encompassing the City of Battle Creek and 5 area townships.

“We want people to know this is all we do.  We are here just to serve the people of Battle Creek,” Talbot said.

The Cemetery’s main entrance and attractive administration center is accessed on Territorial Road.

For more information: http://www.bcmemorialpark.org

Stand out Republican, Democratic Candidates: Mark Jones, Christine Kosmowski

Clear Election Choices for Important Water Resources Position

By Jim Richmond

               Near hidden in the weeds of voting decisions at next Tuesday’s primary election is one of the least understood in Calhoun County governance and services, yet of major importance to many County residents: election of a Calhoun County Water Resources Commissioner.

               The County Water Resources Commissioner and his staff construct and maintain about 500 storm water management systems (County drains) in Calhoun County.  These systems provide storm water management, drainage, flood prevention and stream protection for urban and agricultural lands – especially for County land owners outside the incorporated limits of the City of Battle Creek.

               There are two Democrats and seven Republicans vying to represent their parties by victory on Tuesday, and then the November primary election faceoff.

               Both the Democratic and Republican best qualified candidates are clear:  Christine Kosmowski (D) and Mark Jones (R), have strong professional, technical, and relevant career experience.

               Kosmowski is a likely winner on the Democratic side, with incumbent Commissioner Larry Cortright facing recent allegations over public intoxication, and questions during candidate forums regarding his job performance.

Kosmowski works as Environmental Programs Coordinator for the City of Battle Creek, with experience in environmental and water evaluation. She earned a master’s degree in earth science from Western Michigan University and has been active as a volunteer in area conservation projects and organizations.

Among the seven Republican candidates, Mark Jones is the demonstrated, best choice.  Jones has 20-plus years of civil engineering and project management, including in many of the major duties he would be responsible for as Water Resources Commissioner.  He has studied civil engineering at Walla Walla College in Washington State.

Jones has a solid track record of civic leadership in Battle Creek, having chaired Neighborhood Planning Council #4, as well as volunteer service with the Battle Creek Historic District Board, Kingman Museum, Junior Achievement and Kiwanis. He is currently president of Merchant Services of Southwest Michigan

               Why has this elected post drawn nine eager candidates?  The Water Resources Commissioner has wide discretion and near independent authority in carrying out projects.  (The position is also relatively well paid, with an annual salary of $65,000, plus use of a County truck.)

               Only limited information is available on the Internet regarding most of the Republican candidates:

Johnny Cash,   past volunteer service as City Planning Council Chair and various neighborhood groups in Battle Creek; has run for the position unsuccessfully in the past,  holds welding and mechanical repair certificate/two-year degree.

Mark Jones, RECOMMENDED.

Dan Loew,  Athens School Board member and East Leroy resident, 25 years farming experience.

Tony Mahoney,  no Internet campaign information available.

Travis Piepkow, Lee Township farmer, active in Calhoun County Farm Bureau.

Josh Stults, no Internet campaign information available.

Heath Tichenor, no Internet campaign information available.

What To Do With That Tattoo?

“Ok, show it to me,” she said.

It was a “Welcome Newcomers” Lunch at one of Battle Creek’s largest churches.

There were about 120 people attending, to see if they had interest in joining, with efficient, cordial Church staff, plus a tasty buffet lunch.

As ice breaker, the staff handed out square cards that looked like those for a bingo game, except instead of numbers, there was a checkerboard of smaller squares with teasers like: I WENT TO EUROPE THIS YEAR, I AM A TWIN, and I HAVE A TATTOO.

So to get acquainted and relaxed, we had to go around and talk with other people who might fit and could sign each of the little squares.

A nice middle aged lady came up to me, handed me her card and asked if I could fill in any of her blank squares.

“I have a tattoo,” I replied, writing my initials across the appropriate box on her card.

“Ok,” she asked, without batting an eye or a smile, “Show it to me.”

I thought to myself: ‘She’s no idea where my tattoo is located!’

Still, it was a pretty good bet and icebreaker.

About 25 percent of all Americans, ages 18 to 55, have at least one tattoo. 

Of course, about half wish they didn’t have one.

If you Google the two words “Tattoo + Regret” you get over a million Internet hits.

I used to sit across from a young guy in meetings.  He wore cut off, leather biker tank tops that proudly showed off  these elaborate, detailed near 3-D tattoos that covered his arms, fingers, and one whole side of his neck from hairline to collarbone.

He usually had this drop dead,  good looking wife with him, who, one day,  casually blurted out to the rest of us: “My husband has the most beautiful body in the world!,” which I took as reference the body art. (What I really thought was: TOO-MUCH-INFORMATION.)

I'd asked myself: "What is it with this biker guy?  The beautiful wife? Is it the tattoos?"

I never found out.

His tattoos have lasted a lot longer than the beautiful wife.

I still run into him occasionally. Back then, he was driving an over-the-road, 18-wheeler.

Now, he's selling used cars, real estate or something else.

He's traded in the leather biker tank tops for pastel dress shirts and pasley patterned ties. 

In this hot weather, however,  he looks a bit odd  with his long sleeved, buttoned up, covered up attire – a bit like Komarovsky, trudging down Moscow streets covered in clothing and a frown, vainly searching for his Lara in the movie Dr. Zhivago.

The neck tattoos are still very visible.

Does he have tattoo regrets?

Maybe not.

If 25 percent of Americans have tattoos, perhaps he’s identified and is catering to a new market segment in car or home sales.

Anyway, seems to me "regret" is an often waste-of-time emotion – even when it comes to tattoos.

And, yes, I showed that lady at the Church luncheon my tattoo -- three Chinese characters on my right shoulder, spelling out my first name.

No, I don’t have any regrets, either.  But that’s another story.

Exit Only

Coming out of the automatic entrance/exit doors of Meijers on W. Columbia just now, I slow to notice a middle aged man helping a very fragile, perhaps late 80s, pencil thin, gray-haired woman out of his minivan. 

She is wearing those extra large and extra dark glasses, associated with recent eye surgery.

The man drives off, presumably to find a parking space.

The woman -- seeming a bit confused and in the glaring sunshine, shuffles hesitantly, and by mistake, to the “exit” door.  

She stops, then runs her finger tips around the door edges, when it refuses to automatically open.

I go over, touch her lightly on the hand, and say:  “Ma’m, that’s the exit door,” guiding her to the one marked “Entrance.”

 Laughing,  I add, “You know, I have the same problem with those darn doors.”

She smiles, squeezes my fingers, and is gone.