In light of the recent lunar eclipse that occurred last night, I have a story from a few years ago. Back around 1979. A total solar eclipse.

I've always been a little stubborn. I was in the sixth grade at the time and during the days leading up to the eclipse, we were all instructed to NOT watch the eclipse; to NOT even look toward the sun. Our eyes would be permanently damaged, they said. Instead, we were told we would make little shadow boxes so we could experience the eclipse safely. The idea was, we would watch the effect of the eclipse as the shadow moved across our little box. Everyone in my class was told we had to make a box.

Well first, I didn't know of anyone who could look directly at the sun, it was too bright. I didn't need anyone to tell me that. Most of us had tried long before this and discovered we involuntarily looked away. Second, and more to the point of me being stubborn, this eclipse was a rare event. There was no way i was going to miss it by watching a shadow displayed inside a box.

Since i didn't plan on using a box, I saw no point in making one, so I didn't. My teacher informed me that if I did not make a box, I would get an "F." But since the "F" was only for that assignment, I decided it was worth it. The day of  the eclipse came and as I had so stubbornly informed everyone, I had not made a box.

But apparently, I wasn't the only one who wanted to watch the real thing. Most all of the students in my class were excited and forgot about their little box. When the eclipse started, we all were watching the sun. Yet, not a single one of us went blind.

I think most people know how to shade their eyes with their hand, it's another almost involuntary action. It allows you to see what's going on without being blinded. We all practiced this technique that my teacher had evidently never heard of, and then the strangest thing happened, it got dark! Not completely dark but enough so we didn't need to shade our eyes--because the sun was gone! Not really that dangerous after all!

I did get my "F." But I also proved my point--that I didn't need a box. My eyes were just fine afterwards! Although... Lately, I'm noticing things are getting harder to see. The print on  virtually everything is so small these days! Maybe it's just normal aging or... Maybe I should have made a box!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than  a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, The Journey, Over My Dead Body, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords. Amazon Profile: http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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A few months ago, I wrote a post (read here) about being a sculptor. Specifically, how as  a kid I’d tried my hand at the art of sculpting without much luck but then in later years while working as dental technician, I realized I was sculpting teeth. After that enlightening discovery, I started making all sorts of things: little guns and holsters, cars, candles, birds, or anything else I could think of.

Recently, while sorting through my vast amounts of junk—er, collectibles—I discovered­ some of the “art” I’d made. Yes, I saved most of it, as I do with nearly everything. I dug through the box, remembering how fun it was to create this almost meaningless stuff. I say almost meaningless, because although it serves no purpose, it’s kind of nice to have and look at once in a while. (My wife would probably not agree).

But after I quit working at the dental lab, the creation of my pieces of art stopped. Not having an entire lab full of equipment and supplies at my disposal rather hampered my creativity. This no doubt made my wife happy but I missed making my little treasures.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I had an occasion to need a few items that we had in the dental lab. So, I ordered some supplies and basic equipment. I now can create little trinkets again! (My wife will be so thrilled to read this). I’m not sure what I will make first. Or, when I’ll have the time. Or, what I’ll do with what I make. I guess I could sell it but that doesn’t really fit with my habit of keeping everything. Although... it would be one way to recoup some of my loss. But no, I’ll probably keep it all.

With the cost of the supplies and equipment, some (my wife) would say this could be an expensive hobby. But I look at it more as an investment. Should I, in the future, ever need dentures, I can make them myself! Considering the cost of a dentist visit these days, I think the cost of my hobby just went way down! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

So apparently, guys are not supposed to take young kids to a restaurant by themselves. At least that’s what I hear. I’m not sure if they aren’t allowed to or if people just think they shouldn’t. Either way, I guess I went and broke the rule.

I found this out last Saturday. My wife and daughter went shopping and I kept the one-year-old grandkid. I thought it would be a good time to enjoy a nice dinner at my favorite Chinese restaurant. Yes, the grandkid likes Chinese food. And he knows how to eat by himself, with utensils, so it wasn’t a big deal. Or so, I thought.

We got a lot of strange looks from staff and other customers the minute we walked in. The hostess, who wanted to seat us at a large table, kept asking if the rest of our party would be coming soon. When I finally got through to her that were alone, she gave me a strange look but seated us at a table for two. Even the waitress appeared concerned, asking if I needed her to help me feed the kid. I guess that was a nice offer but, uh, no. I’m quite capable of managing on my own.

But, apparently people just don’t expect guys to take young kids to a restaurant. I think what they expect is guys to be incompetent, or intimidated, or something. Well, maybe some guys are. I am not. That doesn’t make me special. Taking care of a one-year-old is not exactly hard. And doing it successfully shouldn’t give anyone bragging rights. It should be just normal. When my own kids were little, I took them anywhere and everywhere I went. Seems only natural. Especially since the alternative would be to leave them home alone. Pretty sure that would cause more problems than whatever catastrophe everyone is waiting for.

Eventually, everybody at the restaurant got used to the idea that we were there alone. But the waitress, still obviously worried about me, came by and in her heavy Chinese accent asked, “Are you okay?” I nodded and she went on her way. But in a couple of minutes she came back by. It was then that the grandkid, who is into mimicking everything he hears people say, looked at her and, in the same foreign accent, said, “Are you okay?”

She laughed, as did everyone within earshot. “He say that like me,” the waitress said, smiling proudly.

We finished our meal, packaged up the leftovers, and went to pay the bill—all the while the grandkid is listening intently to the workers talk, trying to copy them. And doing a pretty good job if the audience response was any indication! His audience being the entire restaurant!

All in all, we had a good time, ate some good food, and... nothing terrible happened. But apparently, according to the wisdom of the general public, guys are still not supposed to take young kids to a restaurant. And they may be right. After we got home, I had only an hour or two to get rid of the Chinese accent the grandkid had acquired—before his mother came back! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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After two weeks of writing about my present day activities, I think it’s time I dredge up some story from the past. Wait, that makes it sound like I’m digging up dirt on myself, which I’m definitely NOT going to do. Not that I don’t have such stories. I do. Plenty. I’m just not going to write about them!

Okay, now that that’s settled, where was I? Oh yeah, the skeleton that I once kept in my closet. And sorry to disappoint anyone but that word, skeleton, isn’t a metaphoric representation of some big bad secret. I had actual bones, a full set. And no, it wasn’t a lab model. It was a real live skeleton! Okay, probably not “live.” I’m sure the creature that once used the bones was quite dead.

As you probably guessed, the skeleton wasn’t of the human variety. I’m not sure what is was—a small animal of some sort—but definitely not human. (I’m not really a psycho). Whatever it was, I found it while “exploring” outside one day and brought it into the house—for safe-keeping, I suppose. I know I said it wasn’t a big bad secret but I did try to keep it hidden—mainly from my mother. Had she discovered the skeleton, I think she would have quickly disposed of it. So, I kept it out of sight.

Back then, our family used to take long road trips, and usually, we didn’t stop for a motel, we just kept driving. (No surprise I’m now a truck driver). My dad, in order to stay awake, would listen to talk shows on the radio. In those days there were only two: Larry King and the Night Caps. Since I’ve always had an aversion to sleeping, I was usually awake and listening too.

I’m not sure which of the shows it was and I have no idea now what they were discussing but I remember the guy on the radio saying, “Everybody’s got a skeleton or two in their closet.”

Everybody? So why was I trying to hide mine? Oh yeah, my Mother! Then, I started wondering why I’d never seen any skeletons in anyone else’s closet. You got to remember I was pretty young at the time and had never heard that particular phrase before.

Well, after that, I decided to get rid of the skeleton. Didn’t want to be like everybody else! But being a kid, by the time we got home, I’d forgotten all about it. Didn’t think of it again until we moved a couple of years later. As I was packing, my dad came into my room and seeing the skeleton, asked what I was doing with it.

By this time, I was a little more familiar with the English language, idioms in particular. I said to my dad, “Doesn’t everybody have a skeleton in their closet?”

He laughed but said I still needed to get rid of it, which I did—I stashed it in a partially hidden cubby hole in the closet. Yeah, the same closet, in the house we were moving out of. Hey, someone new was going to move in and to paraphrase an old saying, “Everyone needs a skeleton in their closet!” ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

 
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