Cruisin'

Do people in this city still cruise up and down 8th Street?  This is in Saskatoon, of course, and I'm curious if people still, in this day and age, still cruised up and down 8th Street East on Fridays and Saturdays?

Not to put a number on my age or anything, but when I was a teenager, if you didn't find us playing games at Krazy Leo's, you'd likely find us cruising up and down 8th Street.  Back and forth, up and down, maybe taking a break at the (then) Superstore parking lot, to gather and chat with other people wasting their time cruising the stretch of asphalt and rubber.  There were races from traffic light to traffic light and you could be assured that the police were always out in full force, handing out speeding and stunting tickets or busting youth for underage drinking and driving.

At the time, you could still burn a U-turn at the far end of 8th Street, at Arlington Avenue, if I recall, at the intersection where Ruckers Arcade and Taco Bell now sit across from one another.  It was the last legal U-turn at a set of lights, in Canada, if I remember correctly.

For hours upon hours, we'd be out there until the early hours of the AM, when we'd finally head back home or to a friends house, where we'd partake in party favours and alike.  It was fun times.

Nowadays, with gas prices being so high and kids more interested in burying their noses in their phones and devices, do they still head out on Friday and Saturday nights to cruise up and down the boulevard, meeting up with friends?  Kids being as dumb and irresponsible as they are, I could definitely see them wasting mom and dads petrol, just to make a good showing, but do they?

I worked last night and my travels took me across 8th Street at Preston Avenue, quite a few times.  It wasn't until later, when I noticed a lot of classic cars roaming the area, with a culmination of some classics further south on Preston, at the Market Mall parking lot.  Rows of parked classics, lining the parking lot and later collected at the old Superstore parking lot, where we'd park as teens.  Thus striking the query, "Do people still cruise Eighth Street?"

Cars of all makes and models, new and old, streaming the street with their vibrant colours and curvy shapes.  A true spectacle to see, if you're interested in that sort of thing.  It certainly made me wish that I had a classic car to contribute to the scene.  Ultimately making me want to return my beautiful Bella back to her former glory, a goal which I've set for myself for next spring or summer.

Many nights we'd head to 8th Street, as teens.  I was usually stuffed into the backseat of my friend Greg's 1978 Chevy Camaro, windows rolled down, blasting Krokus from the stereo, "Ballroom Blitz" cover, if I'm not mistaken or vintage AC/DC.  I'd be freezing in the backseat, blown by the cool evening breeze as we cruised up and down the half mile or so of road.  It's now a fond memory that recently returned to my brain, so I'm celebrating that fact, too.

I know that there's a Cruise Weekend coming up soon, where most of downtown is shutdown to traffic and where the largest collection of hot rods and show cars come to display their artforms.  I've not attended in years, but wouldn't mind attending, just to see all the cars in their splendor.  It's a culture that I've admired since I was a wee boy, but I know absolutely nothing about mechanics and feel dumb when I see owners displaying their wares for all to see.  So much love and dedication put into each project, just to make them unique.  I admire that.

Is cruising 8th Street still a thing to do?  I don't know, but I wouldn't mind, getting together with a couple friends, once Bella is returned to her former glory, pop that top down and cruise up and down eighth for old times sake.  Relive some of that former glory.  Anyone wanna join me?

My beautiful Bella in all her glory.

Dinks and Dingalings

Anyone can be a ding-a-ling, but only a few are dinks.

When I began my new vocation as a transit operator, I was careful to not miss any stops, looking for people and listening for stop requests.  On my ITS computer, I set it to show the stops, as I don't always know or remember.  As I would approach these stops, I'd whisper to myself, "No dingers; No people." meaning I didn't have to stop.  As the time wore on, I shortened the reference to "No ding-a-lings", which was an affectionate reference to people being silly or a ding-a-ling of sorts.  This week, I changed it again.

Noticing that not all the chimes are the same in the different buses, I noted that while some chimes are of a pleasant and almost playful 'ding', some of the bells possessed more of a "ding-k" sound, which made me laugh.  Now I refer to people as one of two terms.  Either a ding-a-ling or a dink.

Dink is a silly sounding word.  I've heard it in reference to the male genitalia, although when Google'd, if refers to something much more sinister and less silly sounding.  It's of a racial nature that does not need to be repeated in this forum, but if you must quench that thirst for curiosity, feel free to Google it yourself.  To me, however, the word in and of itself is every bit as amusing to say and hear as it is vulgar.  That's where it applies best for my job.

Anyone can be a ding-a-ling, I stated in the opening line of this blog, but not everyone is a dink.  Just the ignorant assholes are dinks.  The people who get on the bus, refusing to pay the reasonable $3 fare.  Those who get on and make some feeble-ass excuse why they won't or can't pay.  Or people who just act like complete assholes when they ride.  Dink. Dink. Dink...  All dinks!!

Then there are those who quietly get on, pay their fare and sit quietly, awaiting their destination.  Those who call out a friendly 'thank you' when they're stepping off the bus.  Those who engage in a friendly 'hello' or chit-chat about the weather.  The friendly folk who barely make a mark on one's day, because they're so pleasant.  I love those ding-a-lings.  Sadly, it's those dinks who stand out.

One particular dink stood out on Monday.  He never paid his fare, but took it upon himself to verbally attack to Muslim women who were seated quietly.  They paid their fare, but he had to give them his opinions of how they were abusing the system, taking advantage of the Canadian government, stealing "our" cash and strongly suggested they go back to their country.  He explained that he didn't appreciate that it was "our tax money" that pays for the buses and that people shouldn't be riding for free.  I guess he didn't sense the irony that he never paid for his ride, nor has he ever (I suspect) paid any taxes.  Pretty tough to pay taxes when you're unemployed, sucking the government's welfare teat and hooked on paint thinner.  [For legal reasons, I should add: Allegedly.]  The guy was a supreme dink.  I kindly asked him not to harass the riders, but he got confrontational and I had to back off to avoid being assaulted or worse.  

That's the world we live in now.  Where good and bad live out in the open.  Good and evil, as it were.  Ding-a-lings and dinks, coexisting and those of us forced to spectate.  Which one are you?  Which one am I?  I pray I'm not a dink, though I may have a dink-ish attitude, sometimes, but I'm trying to be a ding-a-ling.  I truly am.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

A rose by any other name is still an angry drunk homeless woman that has nothing better to do than to ride the bus and angrily assault other passengers and the drivers.

Last week, I reported on my Facebook timeline that I'd picked up an angry homeless woman who then proceeded to nitpick and ridicule me for the following two hours.  She returned again, on Friday, but this time she was accompanied by her daughter, who is equally as angry and drunk as her mother.

Day began by my picking them up on 8th Street.  They were slow to get moving, so another patron boarded the bus ahead of them.  He never pushed them aside or anything.  Just boarded the bus, minding his own business.  This action prompted the daughter to rush onto the bus and verbally shakedown the rider.  Then once seated, the inebriated duo proceeded to verbally assault me, relentlessly.  I laughed it off at first.  For most of the ride downtown, actually.  Admittedly, however, I admit it began to affect me.

I know it shouldn't bother me.  That I shouldn't allow such behavior to affect my attitude, but one can only be a punching bag for so long before the abuse naturally seeps into the cracks.

My father was a terrible alcoholic when I was growing up and what he'd do on some of his benders is toss on some old records then sit me down at the table and he'd tell me what my problems were and how worthless I was, between swigs of his strongly mixed glasses of rye and 7-up.  Many o' weekends were spent at the kitchen table, methodically being broken down to the minstrel sounds of Roger Whittaker and Ray Price, with some Willie peppered in there, for good measure.  To this day, I can't hear Johnny Horton's "Battle of New Orleans" without reminiscing about what a worthless piece of shit I was in the eyes of my drunken father.  It's bittersweet, really.  Good song, with terrible memories.

Nothing can be done about the angry drunk woman, commonly known as "Rose" among all the drivers.  As affected by the abuse as I was, I was relieved to learn that every driver has this negative experience with this woman.  She's been forcefully removed from many buses, by police and other authorities, but she always comes back.  She refuses to pay when she rides the bus, but feels she has the privilege to abuse everyone around her.  No matter who you are, she's gonna be a gunnin' for ya.

With the lifestyle she's been leading, for what I presume has been years, I'm certain she's not long for this world.  One day in the not-too-distant future, I'm sure, I'll be sitting in the drivers lounge, downtown, and will hear some some news about the passing of "Rose".  I predict that some of the drivers will trade anecdotes, fondly remembering how she called them a "worthless cocks*cker" or worse.  We'll all have a laugh and go on about our day, never giving another thought to this woman.

It's sad that a person could possibly live the span of a lifetime and have nothing to show for it, but a few stories showcasing her anger or pissing herself on a city transit bus.  It's pitiful.

Wookin' Pah Nub

Once upon a time, I worked with this girl.  She was a spectacular young woman and I was infatuated with her in so many ways. She'd, quite often, come to work with this huge infectious smile, despite whatever turmoil was going on in her life.  It was mostly boy troubles.  She'd date a guy for a week or two, completely fall for the guy, then before too long, usually a week or two, the guy would dump her.  I'm not sure why, nor did she ever go into detail as to what reasons were given to her for being dumped.  She'd be in the break room, telling of her sorrows, when I'd chime in, "It's because you date boys.  You need a man." I'd say, "You should just marry me.  We'd laugh about the suggestion and carry on with our day.

Eventually, these conversations were met with a different response.  She'd cry about a broken heart, I'd give the generic response of "Blah blah blah, boys. Need a man. Marry me.  Blah blah blah."  To which she would respond with, "Show me a ring."  Then we'd share a laugh.

One day, after I said "Marry me" and she gave me her reply, "Show me a ring." The laughter was more on her end, because the wheels were now turning in my head.  What started as a joke, was now becoming more real to me.  I began thinking to myself, "Why not me?"

Eventually, I was fired from that job, but we remained in contact.  Then on the Facebook, I learned that she had, once again, been dumped by some punk who never realized what an amazing girl he had.  Something popped in my head and I found myself at the mall, in a jewelry shop in front of the engagement rings and wedding bands.

I've never shared this with many people.  Maybe one or two, if memory serves.  I bought an engagement ring that day, along with the matching wedding band.  I fully intended on meeting with this girl, repeating the famous lines, "Dating boys. You need a man. Marry me." and when she was to reply with "Show me a ring." I was going to present her with a white gold band with a princess cut diamond, the exact ring that she'd spoken about for so long when we'd chat it up in the break room.  Unfortunately, she reconciled with the guy who had just broken her heart.  They remained together and I had no choice but to return the rings to the jewelry store and had my money refunded.

I don't know where this gal is, today.  I know she married that fool.  Had a child with him, then they divorced.  She wound up with another dude who had pursued her for a long time, but it wasn't me.  She would eventually leave Facebook and where she is today, I have no clue.  It'd be nice to see her again, but I don't think my feelings for her have remained.

I would have seriously married her.  I really thought the world of her and would never joke about matrimony.  I really, legitimately, cared for her.  In the decade or more, since, I've never really entertained the idea of entering a relationship with another female.  Nothing, in my mind, could ever compare with how I felt about this one individual.

Throughout the years, since, I've only entertained the idea of a relationship with a woman for, arguably, selfish reasons.  If my vehicle was in need of repair, I'd think, "I wish I had a girlfriend who was a mechanic." Then I'd have someone to fix my shit.  Or if I was suffering some aches and pain, I thought, "I wish I had a girlfriend who was a physiotherapist or a physician."  Or sometimes, I'd think, "It'd be cool to have a girlfriend who was also a police officer."  Handcuffs.  I'll leave that to stew in your head. 😁

I never seriously ventured down that road, though.  Romance is a two-way street and as beneficial as it would be to have a relationship with someone, of any profession, I've never considered myself that interesting of a person.  I'm opinionated and, frankly, I think most would probably frown on my world views.  Plus, it's very easy to annoy me.  If I view someone as less intelligent, many times I find myself disinterested in them.  Ignorance, is a deal breaker, as is smoking or just a shitty negative attitude.  More reasons for me to choose the bachelor lifestyle, rather than wrapping myself up in a liaison that could (and probably would) very well end badly.

Recently, I was the victim of a catfish incident.  It was the very first time that (A) my bullshit detector failed and (B) that I'd considered a relationship with a woman.  In the end, I don't know what hurt more.  The fact that this woman, who I'd been communicating with for just short of two weeks, had blatantly lied about who she was, OR that my bullshit detector had failed.  I rely on my intuition to guide me in life.  To protect myself from anything that seems too good to be true.  Every system I have in place, failed to see the bullshit that I was being force-fed.  My usual skepticism was gone and I found myself reconsidering my place in life and thinking of how I might reconfigure in order to accommodate this new relationship.  In the end, my guard rose up and I did some digging, via Google, and learned that this person was full of shit and I called them out on it.

I should have felt victorious, but in reality, I was crushed.  For a short minute, I felt validated.  I felt like I was worthy of such a high level of affection and in the end, I was just a mark that some dummy thought she could manipulate.

Today, just a month or two removed from the catfishing incident, I am alone, once more.  I no longer feel like the worthless piece of shit that I did a few short weeks ago.  I think it may be some close friends who have provided me support in the right way.  Once again, I'm entertaining the idea of seeking out love or romance, but have to overcome some obstacles before proceeding.  Even then, I'm hesitant.  I still don't find myself being overly interesting.  I'm still opinionated, but hopefully, I can meet that special someone, eventually, who I find I can't live without.  Someone who gets my jokes.  Someone who I can share and actual conversation with and not someone who just waits for their turn to talk.  I want someone who completes me, not to sound like that cheesy Tom Cruise movie.  I always loved those scenarios where a couple can spend a comfortable evening together without ever feeling the need to speak a single word, but the feeling in the air is that of eternal bliss.

In the end, if I do choose to venture out into the world and look for a meaningful relationship, finding happiness like that of (literally) everyone around me, I don't care what her vocation is, as long as she has one and it makes her happy.  I want to rid my life of confusion, clutter and negativity, so I don't want to invite someone else's problems into my life.  I do realize, however, that if anyone is out there who has her life in order, like this, that she is likely already in a successful relationship and won't be looking for some schlub who drives a bus.  Unless, I can find a lovely young miss, who also drives a bus. 😂 

   

Show of Gratitude

 

To tip or not to tip? That is the question of the day.  When is it appropriate to tip for services rendered and when is it okay to offer a gratuity at all?  This seems to be a debate that arises every now and then.  Gratuities have become so expected that some businesses have the option on the payment device, where you have no option, but to leave a tip, whether deserving or not.

When I enter a business, like a restaurant, I already have a base tip in mind for what I'll give to my server.  Then in my mind, like the reels of an old alarm clock, that tip amount either flips forward for a higher tip or backwards for less, all depending on how my companions and I are treated.  Whatever the company I'm sharing dinner with wants to leave is up to them.  I only know what I'm prepared to leave.  Of course, I read the room and if I receive shitty service because my server is overworked and busy with a shit-ton of tables, I take that into consideration, but overall, it's all attitude.

Just last evening, I decided to check out a new burger joint that I've been passing by for a few weeks.  I chose to take my food out.  I paid for my order and right away the debit machine prompted me to pay a 10%, 15% or 25% gratuity.  "No Tip" was not offered.  I protested, as I don't see the need to tip someone who takes your order.  They didn't go above and beyond.  In fact, this girl was just...  Blank.  I don't know if she just didn't want to be there or if she was on something, but a tip was not deserved for the interaction I had.  Plus, I ordered no pickles and got pickles.  She instructed me to stand to the side, at the pick-up station, so I did so.  A few minutes later, another gal comes along and verbally scolds me for standing there, ushering me off to the far side of the tiny dining area.  The burger and onion rings that I ordered were, albeit, fan-f*cking-tastic, but the service was pure shit!!  I'll probably go back, for the food, but no monies other than the food purchase, will leave my hands.

Same goes for pizza.  I always opt to pick up my pies, as delivery cost is exorbitant.  When I go to pay, they always expect a tip.  I'm not paying someone extra just for doing what is expected of them.  If I got delivery, then yes.  Of course, I'll tip.  I'm a professional driver, so I'm quite familiar with the obstacles and stupid drivers out there.  A delivery guy (or gal) should be compensated for the extra stress on their sad little lives.

In a perfect world, all the servers should be compensated with their paychecks.  Supplemental gratuities, shouldn't be necessary or expected, but many businesses just pay their help minimum wage and who the f*ck can live on minimum wage.  In some U.S. restaurants and bars, the wait staff only earn money through gratuities from their patrons.  Other businesses, have the wait staff split the tips they earn, with the kitchen staff, who didn't do shit, except their f*cking jobs.

In the end, y'all are going to do what you want to do.  It makes no difference to me.  I'm not here to try and sway public opinion one way or another.  This is simply my belief on the matter.  Go above and beyond, you get tipped well.  Give a shitty attitude then expect to be heavily compensated?  Eat shit!!

 

Years ago, when I used to frequent the bars, I'd tip very well. Especially as the night grew darker and darker and the drinks kept coming.  The tips I gave out mirrored how inebriated I was.  The drunker I got, the more money my waitress would make.  Even more so, if she were a hottie.  I don't drink anymore.  I can't afford it.  I don't enjoy it and Covid has pretty much killed the nightlife scene around this city, anyway.  Plus, all the bars I went to have either been torn down or turned into gay bars.  F*ck is there ever a lot of gay bars in this city... 🤔 What the f*ck??

Sorry.  Got distracted.  😵

Tips and gratuities...  I don't know. Do whatever you want.  I don't think they're always necessary.  You be you, Boo and I'll be me, a cheap cynical bastard.

 💸

Wordage

 

I enjoy drafts.  Listening to All Fantasy Everything, hosted by comedian, Ian Karmel, he and his friends draft everything from best Taco Bell items to Favourite Music Videos to Best One Word Movie Titles.  The podcast has existed for many years and they've not lost on topics to draft.  Way more than can be covered in the opening paragraph of some blog that nobody reads.  Suffice it to say, it's something that I've found personal joy in doing my own drafts and sharing them on Facebook.  I've even shared some with Ian and the AFE podcast.  A couple months back, I concocted my own draft, which I shared with Ian via Twitter and he liked it so much, though he never specified it, I think he may (if he hasn't already) pose that as a subject to draft on All Fantasy Everything.  It'd be fun to find out their picks.

Cruz FM, here in the city, also does a draft.  It's done by morning DJs, Stacie Cooper and Clayton Kroeker.  Usually only local things or items from the province are drafted, but it's still fun to listen to and vote on who the winner is.

All this influence and I've come to the point where I'm going to do another "one-off" draft that, to my knowledge, has not been done yet, but may in the future if someone likes it.  Today's draft is going to be my FAVOURITE WORDS.

Before moving forward with my list of favourite words, I feel it necessary to compile a short list of the words I don't like.  Absolutely detest them.  The first word that I don't much care for: FAKE.

I absolutely hate the word: Fake.  It has such a negative connotation associated with it.  I think it's association with professional wrestling is where it garnered the most hate from me.  Reducing the efforts of what those men and women do in a wrestling ring, to "fake" is a slap in the face to their talent and athleticism.

The next word that I absolutely detest and the irony is not lost on me, is the word: HATE.  My dislike for this word is a thousand percent.  It's a word that should be stricken from the books, as it invokes the worst in people.

Another word that deserves to be stricken from the record is the word that isn't really a word.  PROLLY is for stupid people who can't spell probably.  In a world where auto-correct controls all of our communique, it's hard to argue that prolly should exist.  Yet thousands of dummies continue to use it and it drives me crazy.

Last word I detest and probably the most controversial, is the name of a Canadian Resort.  Banff.  I've always, since I was old enough to speak, have hated that name.  The letters sounds for N and F should not be placed right next to each other and as a result, I'm not confident that I can pronounce it correctly and thus makes me feel like a f*cking idiot!!  Change your name!!

This is a nice segue into my draft for the words that I absolutely LOVE.  These are my favourite words and I try to use them on a regular basis because they're fun and useful. 

Number One (and I suspect would be the most popular word): FUCK!  I really like the F-word.  It's so perfect and universal.  There's a video or audio track out there that I'll try to find and post with this blog when I put it up, that goes through all the many uses of the F-word.  From a noun to a verb to adverbs to you-name-it, fuck can be used for it or to describe it.  I use it frequently.

Numero dos: TREMENDOUS, meaning extraordinarily great in size, amount, intensity or excellence.  For example, my love of the F-word, is tremendous.

Third pick is: EXTRAVAGANZA.  I'm not sure why I ever started liking the word.  I believe it started a couple decades ago, when I'd be calling up the local bars to see if they were going to show the wrestling pay-per-views.  Only when I'd call the various establishments, I'd ask if they were planning to show the "wrestling extravaganza" rather than the PPV.  This, to my knowledge, is the only time I really used the word.  To this day, I don't believe I use it for anything other than in the company of a wrestling event. 🤔  Hmm.  Still a fun word, though.

My fourth pick is one that I began using many many years ago, when I would hang out with Dustin K___ and a bunch of people whom I worked with at the time: DISCOMBOBULATED.  Verbiage was big with these guys and when discombobulated came across our purview, we were enamoured.  More so when the word made an appearance on an episode of The Simpsons.  Looking at the word today, I've come to realize that it's not just a fun word to say and use, but it would seem it's also the a state of mind that I frequently experience.  I've had meltdowns in the past, where I was so confused about something that I did a million times but for a few fleeting minutes, I couldn't grasp the logic of how or what I was doing.  I recently had a moment like that at my current job, but after a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I was no longer discombobulated and was once again, focused.

Fifth and final pick is the word: INDULGE.  I only recently discovered it's charm and grace.  Meaning to yield to an inclination or desire; to yield to satisfy or gratify.  Essentially surrendering to what brings you joy or satisfaction.  There may be too much of that in the world, but in moderation, I think it's fine and people should practice more.

This concludes my Draft of Favourite Words.  That list again:

1. Fuck
2. Tremendous
3. Extravaganza
4. Discombobulated
5. Indulge

I feel it necessary to make a couple honourary mentions, that never quite made the list, although this first mention was on the list for a short while, before being replaced by "indulge".  That word is: MOIST.  The reason I enjoy it is mostly because most people hate the word.  Moist.  Mmmmoist.  Mmmmm... Moist.  It's so fun to say, but more so when you see people squirm at it's mere mention. 😂

Another word would be: FART  The only reason for this one is that the sound of the word also matches the sound that it describes.  It's like the word orange can only describe the fruit that is the same in colour.  They're made for one another.  Much like only fart can accurately describe flatulence.  Say flatulence to a kid and they'll cock their head to the side like a confused mutt, but say "fart", they'll laugh and know exactly what you're talking about.  Plus....  Let's be honest.  Farts are fun.

Way Down In The Village

My mom is a sweetheart.  A kind hearted soul without a malicious bone in her body.  Generous to a fault, that goes unnoticed, sometimes.  I feel guilty coming to realize this so late in life.  I enjoy spending time with my mother, nowadays.  I realize that our time together, in the grand scheme of things, isn't going to be that long.  I don't wish this to sound like she's taken ill, because she has not.  I'm confident that she'll, in most likelihood, will outlive me.  That withstanding, I feel some guilt in how I've treated my mother in the past.

As I've already stated, and anyone who's ever crossed paths with my mom, will know that she is a sweetheart.  However, my mom is as gullible as she is sweet and in my youth, played a terrible gag on my mother one late evening.

I was at the home of my sister and her first husband, Grant.  Another of his friends, Kevin L., was present when they concocted this funny joke to play on my mom.  It was late evening, as I recall, and Grant's pal, Kevin, dialed up my mom's phone number.  It was probably around 10pm.  Groggily, my mom answered the phone, her voice cracking as she said, "Hello?"

Immediately, Kevin breaks into character, speaking very formal-like, as a police constable.  He informed her that I'd been arrested and that it was necessary for me (Jeff) to be bailed out that evening.  That's when he handed me the phone to elaborate on the story we were feeding her.

Still sleepy, having just been woken up by this terrible prank, she asked what was going on.  I played along, embroidering a twisted, yet simplistic yarn of how I had been driving home, via 20th Street.  Normally, this was not a route I'd normally take, given how scary the neighbourhood is at night.  It's scary during the day, but night time really brings out the cockroaches, even back then.

"I was sitting at a red light," I explained, "When this woman jumped in my car.  I told her to get out, but she refused.  Then the light turned green and I had no choice but to go through."

I really painted the picture for my mother, churning her imagination into a frenzy.  "I'd gone a couple of blocks," I continued explaining, "When suddenly I saw flashing red and blue lights in my mirror."

My mom was really becoming vocal at this point, interrupting me before I could explain why I had been (supposedly) arrested.  I cut my tale short, but simply adding, "I was arrested for soliciting a prostitute."

"WHAT?!?" she screamed into the phone, "What am I supposed to do?"  It was at this point that Grant, my former brother-in-law, took control of the phone, posing as another officer.  Grant had a very distinct voice and we figured that my mom would catch on that this was a gag when he began his pitch.  

"Ma'am, your son was picked up on 20th Street West, under the suspicion of solicitation of a prostitute.  You're going to need to bring $400 downtown if you don't want your son to spend the night in jail."

"Where on 20th Street?" my mom asked.  I'm not sure as to why this was an important tidbit of information, but Grant quickly panicked, answering, "Awe, shoosh!!  Way down in the village."  Then he proceeded to toss the phone in my hands and run across the room, as if to hide.  Grant was a strange idiot, who despite concocting this pranks, was a terrible liar.  He couldn't keep the facts straight on any story without trying to elaborate then failing miserably.  The fact that he was able to fool my sister over his infidelities for so long, is a complete mystery.

I continued to pull the proverbial wool over my mom's eyes, suggesting that she call my dad for the bail money when she told me she didn't have the cash available on short notice.  I only suggested my dad's involvement because I knew him to be at work and virtually impossible to reach until morning.

Definitive sobbing of worry and sorrow could be heard over the phone and that's when we came clean about the farce, confessing that it was all just a ruse and that I hadn't been arrested and that everything was fine.  The sadness had disappeared from her tone, but she never laughed at the premise, nor did she voice any opinions.  I'd really riled her up and probably removed a few years off of her life because of a stupid prank that, in retrospect, wasn't actually all that amusing to begin with.

Many of the little tricks that I've done in my younger years, seemed important or funny, at the time, but as I reflect back on what memories I can still stir up, they weren't all that funny, after all.  Hopefully, in the years since, that I've become a better son to my mom.  I hope that before she shuffles off this mortal coil, that she will look upon me with pride.  My dad passed away before I could make anything of myself, but I like to think that if he were alive today, he'd finally look upon me with some pride.  

My relationship with my mom is a lot better in recent years.  I think that when she sold her house then came to stay with me for, a month, then three months then almost a full year, that our relationship got better.  Now, when time permits, we get together either at my house or her condo.  We'll have nice suppers and watch movies or TV shows.  We have our menagerie of home improvement shows and TV mysteries when she comes to my house and at her house, we'll cue up a movie or binge watch a TV series.  We just finished up Yellowstone a few months ago, as well as the Justified series.  Right now work has me completely exhausted, so I don't get to spend as much time with my mom as I initially could, but if I can manage my time better, I'm sure we can get back to visiting on a regular basis.

My mom tells me that she doesn't have many friends.  Many of them have lost touch and those relationships have all but severed completely.  Luckily in the condo where she resides now, she's made a lot of new friends.  It's a real sense of community in that building and I like it.  It's good for her.  My mom has always been sociable.  Always capable of making new friends, instantly.  My mom is a sweetheart.  As loyal as they come and not a malicious bone in her body.  All I can do is hope she's happy and I'll do my best to keep her that way.