Stream of Consciousness Saturday Consciousness Prompt – ‘Acronym’

K. L. O. T.

Knowledge Learned Over Time

In a recent discussion with a former associate and contemporary, we discussed our careers and how better and smarter we were at the end than the beginning of our work life. We learned and grew as we became more experienced.

Isn’t that the case in most endeavors? Isn’t it what is expected of us by others, by ourselves? To learn and grow and keep on learning? Industry names it ‘continuous improvement’. Makes sense.

A few years ago, I gave this process a name, KLOT, ‘’Knowledge Learned Over Time’.

My acronym has been tucked away in a notebook, waiting to be shared with the world. When I saw this week’s challenge from Linda Hill, I thought, OMG, now is the time. And so I have,

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “acronym’.” Choose an acronym and use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!

But why stop here? While most big universities have easily identifiable names by their abbreviations…. SU (Syracuse), UMASS (University of Massachusetts), UTEP (Univ of Texas at El Paso), etc. …, I formed a ‘school’ with an actual acronym, SHWAP U., ‘School of Hard Work And Perseverance’

Okay, so I didn’t account for the ‘of’. BFD! It still works.

The staff of SHWAP U, my ‘faculty’, as I referred to them, was made up of all the different disciplines who helped me grow my sales territory: manufacturing engineers and sales management, primarily, who would accompany me on sales calls and ‘plant seeds’ for new opportunities.

The SHWAP U acronym became synonymous with hard work and a never give up attitude. It was an honor to be associated with it. And those SHWAP U end of the sales work day dinners often ended with a fine cigar and self congratulatory pats on the back.

If you want to see what others have done with this prompt, visit Linda’s blog. Here is the link https://lindaghill.com/2023/07/07/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-8-2023/

Steve Bottcher (070823)

Stream of Consciousness – ‘Rock’

GIVE THAT ROCK A CIGAR!

If you would like to visit Linda’s blog to see how other folks use the prompt, here is the link https://lindaghill.com/2023/06/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-1-2023/

For those of you who look around and see ‘wonder’ in everything, you’ll understand. Maybe you’ll even laugh or shout, “hooray, someone else with eyes wide open”!

As I preached to the students I led across the street as a crossing guard, look up, down and around, the world right around you is full of amazing sights. Take this rock, for example.

“What this country needs is a good 5 cent cigar’

An ordinary rock that lined our garden with its other rock friends. Add a broken tree branch and it comes to life. Almost looks like a puffed out politician or used car salesman (no offense, I love salespeople, I was one myself)

For a brief period in my senior life, I was gathering rocks that looked like states, and actually found a few. My New York rock was a perfect specimen. It had everything ‘upstaters’ and western New Yorkers liked; high spots for the the mountain areas and flatter tones along the Ontario shores,

I wanted to take a photo but I think I threw it at a crazy fox running through the yard. Now, I can’t tell if it’s Ohio or Virginia. Manhattan must have broken off in the throw.

That ‘hobby’ lasted briefly. My wife thought I was off my rocker, so I dropped it and took up writing. I’m not sure which is harder, writing or finding a New Hampshire rock on my morning walk.

Steve

srbottch.com

070123

“PLAY BALL!”

Pitcher, outfielder,Dad/coach/umpire, first baseman

It wasn’t a call that reverberated over the fences and throughout the neighborhood. No, it was more of a professorial urging by the umpire, “play ball”, and we did.

Today was the official opening of the new ball field, a garden like area nestled among stately homes, comfortably laid out in the family’s new backyard, with floral baselines, an ornamental outfield tree and even a mini brick wall, Wrigleyesque. For lack of a formal name, I’ll refer to it as Claybourne Field, or “the field” for short.

‘The Field’

Such a difference from the ‘old field’, a simple front yard lawn on a busy avenue, a family lab of sorts, where a father and his two young sons bonded forever thru America’s pastime, baseball. A place where the boys learned to hit, run and throw and their dad/coach/umpire honed his parenting skills. *

Every new ballpark has some semblance of a pregame ceremony. Today was no different and I was truly honored to throw out the first pitch, three exactly, one to each boy and their dad. My own solo practice sessions leading up to the big day rewarded me with three perfect pitches, fastballs right down the middle.

Following the pregame festivities, it was time to start the first game on ‘the field’’. I played the pitcher position for both teams, guaranteeing me to be both the winning and losing pitcher, probably a first in baseball annals.

For two innings, I kept the offenses guessing with my repertoire of ‘stuff’: fastball, curve, knuckler, change up and even a hit batsman to keep the hitters honest and away from the plate. Oh, they hit me, alright, and even scored a few runs but the game was low scoring until the third and final inning when the floodgates opened.

The hitters, kids and dad, finally figured me out and sprayed hits all over the field. The tall, lanky first baseman sent shots whizzing by my ear. The small, spunky outfielder swung for the fences on every pitch, pointing where the ball was going each time. Such swagger! Such chutzpah, even. **

Not to be outdone, the dad/coach/umpire peppered the outfield wall and trees, often sending the spheroid out of sight with his brute strength, building a big lead. Not even my high leg kick delivery slowed the onslaught.

The third and final inning saw a valiant comeback effort by the boys stopped in its tracks when the dad snagged a wicked line drive for the final out and a 16-10 winning score.

Thanks for inviting me to join your game and be a young man, again, boys. It was fun to be part of your story and write about it. The autographed ball has a special place on my shelf and in my heart.

This is the third story chronicling my former neighbor and two sons and their love of baseball. See the links below for the first two.

Steve (062623)

* https://srbottch.com/2023/03/18/they-closed-the-old-ballpark-today/

** https://srbottch.com/2021/10/02/the-kid-he-called-it/

Find my stories at ‘srbottch.com’)

Listen My Children…

I first wrote this last year but today is a good time to repost it.

Listen my children and you shall hear of The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

Twas the 18th of April, ‘75, hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year

As he said to his friend, “If the British march by land or sea from the town tonight, hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch of the North Church tower as a signal light.

One if by land, and two if by sea, and I on the opposite sure shall be ready to ride and to spread the alarm through every Middlesex village and farm for the country folk to be up and to arm” (Longfellow)

Miss Meehan, my 5th Grade teacher at Woodland Street School in Worcester, MA wrote this on the chalkboard and had the students memorize and recite it. I’ve never forgotten it. Of course, there’s lots more to the poem.

About 1981, on April 18th, I was driving along the New York State Thruway, Rte 90, at an excessive speed. Why so fast? Because I was reciting this poem out loud, caught up in a bit of patriotism. At least that was my story to the state trooper who commented, “I bet Paul wasn’t going this fast”, as he handed me the speeding citation.

I will never forget the poem, the officer, the patriotic deed by Paul and friends, nor Miss Meehan.

Steve

Happy Patriots Day to all Bay Staters today, as well as Boston Marathoners.

The Right Stuff: Wallpapering Tools

Wallpaper by Roger Turner, Poet, May 2012

The room was dank and dreary
The past hung in the air
There was a scent of mildew
A smell of history was there
The paint was old and faded
With stains all dark and brown
The wallpaper too was dated
And it needed to come down

Have you hung wallpaper, yourself?

A wall? An entire room? Several rooms? Does even talking about wallpapering make you anxious?

I’ve yet to meet a homeowner who admits to taking on a wallpapering ‘honey-do’ job and enjoying it. It’s a challenge. If you’re not careful the seams show, or overlap. The pattern doesn’t line up. The strips appear to be different shades (did you forget to reverse each strip). It’s a slow process for the inexperienced and can rattle your nerves

Call me crazy, but I enjoyed it!

In our previous house, I wallpapered every room except a bedroom and baths, some more than a couple of times. Sounds crazy, but once the job got started, I found it therapeutic and I’m generally not a patient person. Wallpapering requires concentration and patience.

Like any job, if you don’t have the right tools, the work becomes more difficult. My father was a painter/paper hanger so I inherited enough of the proper tools and his instructions to help me succeed to a certain degree: a legitimate table, brushes, scissors, straight edge, roller, sponges and some razor blades. Razor blades are quickly consumed, one might do a sheet, maybe two sheets, so don’t be stingy on blades, they dull quickly.

Here’s a tip to help speed along the process. Paste several strips at a time, fold them, pasted side together, and put them aside in a plastic bag. No need to paste and hang one at a time. Those strips in the bag will stay moist for a long time, until you’re ready to use one.

Interestingly, the different layers of wallpaper can tell a story about a family’s growth and changing tastes. In a child’s room, the paper might go from whimsical to serious in a span of a few years as the youngster matures. While an adult might leave wallpaper behind completely as painted walls become the new norm.

One more suggestion, learn to ‘double cut’. Sometimes, you might want to use an extra piece of paper (scrap piece) to fit in a spot. Lay that piece over one that’s already in place, lining up the pattern as you do it. Then cut through both pieces, peel off the trimmed section of the bottom piece and, Eureka, the new seam will be perfect and you’ve economized a piece that was going to be scrapped.

Some frustration is bound to set in, so do remember to be patient. Sure, I made mistakes, but was always able to correct them. No one else would find them. Unless the ‘honey’ in ‘honey-do’ does a final inspection. In that case, remember this for the next redecorating chore.,.

…painting is more forgiving!

Steve (04/25/23)

To DIYers everywhere..,

They Closed The Old ‘Ballpark’, Today…

The ‘boys’ came to play…

…but this time would be different.

Today would be their last game at the old ‘ballpark’, the grand finale, the wrap up, the capper. It’s time to move on to a bigger ‘ballpark’.

A bit melancholic, maybe, but Life is like that. Today’s celebration becomes tomorrow’s remembrance.

It didn’t matter that snow covered the field for this final game, it had to be played. They were paying homage to the field, itself, a patch of lawn where two young boys learned the finer points of baseball from their coach, a devoted dad who used the sport to teach his sons lessons about growing up, getting along and having fun.

players & player/coach/dad

Over summers, I spectated from the third base side, separated from the action by the street that divided our neighborhood, west and east, witnessing the growth of the ‘team’ from young boys first learning how to swing a bat to baseball fanatics becoming ‘sluggers at the plate’, albeit still youngsters.

Some epic games were played here, high scoring events, very high, as the ‘ballpark’ was in constant use during summer months. The whack of the bat on ball, plastic on plastic, closely followed by cheerful shouting as young hitters outraced the nimble fielder, their dad, for an extra base, or two, often winning with a tumbling slide.

It’s a bit sad when the last out of the last game is made. Players collect the bat, ball and bases, the gates are shuttered and the curtain comes down on the old ‘ballpark’. It’s time to move on. It’s the same with families.

Our young neighbors and the ‘team’ are doing just that, moving on. We’ve enjoyed their friendship for 10 years and wish them well, knowing they’ll do fine. They have strong values of faith and love for one another.

As for the ‘team’, when it was all said and done, they moved on, hand in hand, likely learning more lessons from their ‘coach’.

The new field will be nice but the memories of the old field, their first ‘ballpark’, will stay with them forever. Life is like that…

Steve (031823)

For Jonathan, Eva, Noah & Jacob

Today, I Shoveled Snow…Again!

I’ve posted this in the past but every new snow event has me coming back to it. Today, March 11 and approaching Spring, was no different. A fresh coating of snow with more on the way next week brought out the story to share, again. Please enjoy and maybe recall your own youthful days when you were expected to do chores around the house…

https://srbottch.com/2021/02/10/today-i-shoveled-snow-2/

Winter Scarves: A Love Story

Scarf

So warm, this knitted scarf: a treasure beyond worth, that hides within each woven stitch her heart.*

* Copyright © Nick Ruff | Year Posted 2008

Winter winds blow cold in western New York, especially along the icy shores of the easternmost Great Lake, Ontario. And, while the calendar tells us the dates for ‘old man winter’, Mother Nature determines when it really begins and ends. In these parts, that can be anytime from November thru March, five long months, not three.

Even April has been known to harbor cold winds and wet snows.

Combating those elements and keeping the chill at bay becomes a daunting seasonal challenge. This winter I’m meeting that challenge head on, or should I say, ‘neck and shoulder’ on, with some degree of success. How?

SCARVES!

Not just any scarf, mind you, but homemade scarves, in a variety of colors, sizes and designs, patterns, as they’re called.

Scarves long enough to cross in front and drape down, keeping my torso warm, or scarves to wrap thickly around my neck as an even stronger barrier against the weather. Scarves that are a bit wide and can be converted to a shawl, a ‘man shawl’.

And it goes without saying that while these scarves are functional, keeping the elements out and the warmth in, they are a fashion statement, as well, not that I’m concerned about looks. But who doesn’t mind occasional flattery, some ‘oohs and aahs?

These scarves, a dozen by count, are knitted by my wife as a hand therapy exercise. I’m the beneficiary and each time I wear one, which is daily, it may be cold, but I feel wrapped in a layer of love, something else to keep me a bit warmer.

Mother Nature may win the war, as she often does, but with the help of my scarves, I occasionally win a battle.

Do you have a favorite scarf? Tell me about it. And stay warm…

Steve (030923)