Wake UP!

"Get up. Breakfast is ready."

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Wash your face."

"Are you up yet?"

"You're going to miss the school bus!"

The bedrooms in the house where I grew up were all downstairs. So was the bathroom, furnace, clothes dryer and chest deep freeze. The basement stayed cool in the summer. In the winter a gas stove radiated a modest amount of heat. The cement floor directly in front of it was warm and toasty. That is where my brother or I stayed if we were waiting for our turn in the bathroom.

In the mornings when we didn't want to get out of bed our mother would yell instructions, warnings and eventually threats down the stairs from the kitchen. If we lollygagged too long, our dad would assume the 'getting the kids out of bed' duties. He didn't employ threats of dire consequences if we weren't clothed and sitting at the breakfast table in three seconds. He developed a quiet, effective method of persuasion.

Remember that deep freeze I mentioned earlier?

A package of frozen hamburger or tube of frozen orange juice concentrate applied to the bottom of warm feet will result in said sleepy children leaping out of bed and changing from pajamas to school clothes in record time. After the first time, all it took was the sound of the squeaky hinges on the freezer door being raised to persuade us it was time to get ready for school.

Everyman's Hero

The National Western Livestock Show/Rodeo is held in Denver every January. My folks didn't go every year, and when they did, they didn't stay the entire two weeks. Dad liked to attend several of the events and visit relatives in the area. My mother went along, but cattle weren't her thing. On the other hand, who doesn't like a good rodeo?

Located just east of the junction of I-70 and I-25, the best plan is to stay in an outlying hotel/motel and use the complimentary shuttle service to get back and forth. This isn't a travelogue. I am telling you this for a reason.

Late one bitter evening they stood in front of the main gate with other bull riding aficionados waiting for a ride back to the hotel. In a hurry to get out of the weather, people shoved their way on board the next shuttle. It just so happened the driver had allowed one too many passengers on the bus. My mother had no place to sit. Undaunted, she squeezed her 90-pound frame between the last seat and the emergency exit door.

Now, I'm sure this broke every rule the driver would have studied to get his commercial driver's license. I still have terrible visions of what would have happened if the door had popped open at 70 mph on a busy freeway.

By now I bet you're wondering about my dad's whereabouts since there wasn't any room for my mom, aren't you? Perhaps you are assuming he didn't elbow his way onto the shuttle? Maybe he was crushed underfoot in the stampede? Mom should probably get off the bus and shiver until the next one arrives.

Rule Twenty-One: Don't try to prove to total stranger's that you are a gentleman.

My father made a general announcement to the whole bus. Yeah, he got on.

"I'd give my seat to that lady, but she's my wife."

A man across the aisle who was sitting with a woman, presumably his wife or significant other, leaned over and shook Dad's hand.

"Buddy, you're my kind of guy!"