(This column first appeared in The Pampa News)
Mulligan!
I don't always read my column when it comes out in print, but I was glad I did last week--I came across much more negative than I intended to be. I ran out of space, so I had to rush my point. My intention was not to disparage the nameless town, but to use it as an object lesson for anyone who is in business: there's not much point in spending a lot of time, money, or effort to get a customer or client if you're going to treat them poorly in person.
Oh, Kay!
I was sitting in a meeting this week when someone mentioned "Kay Giarro". I had not heard of the person addressed, and neither had anyone else, judging by the quizzical expressions on their faces.
"Who?" someone asked.
"Kay Giarro" was the response.
"Who is Kay Giarro?"
"You know...the radio station. K G R O!"
Wedding Punch
Daughter Anne and I attended the Texas Book Festival in Austin a few weeks ago. As we we're leaving the event we chanced to walk by Central Christian Church where some men and a young boy were trying to get in--obviously for a wedding, as the men were all dressed in matching attire. What caught my eye, however, was the box the boy was carrying--Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots! I couldn't figure out why he had them. It would hardly be appropriate for a wedding gift, and I couldn't imagine that he was bringing them to keep himself occupied during the service.
I paused and asked, "You fellows going to a wedding?" The oldest--a guy about my age--impatiently affirmed that they were. I pointed to the boy's box and said, "I was just wondering. The rock 'em sock 'em stuff usually starts AFTER the wedding."
The man gave me a strange look for just a moment before he heartily laughed and agreed.
Good Marx
It was certainly disappointing news this week to learn of Johnnie Marx's stroke. There are no finer folks anywhere than Bob and Johnnie. Bob called as I was putting the finishing touches on this column. Johnnie has regained some movement in her right side, and has begun therapy. We are remaining optimistic. Hang in there, Bob and Johnnie. We're pulling and praying for you!
Out of the Files
When I started this column, I intended to actually bring music into the discussion once in a while. Usually there’s just too much local stuff to talk about, but I’m a little short of material, so I’ll comment on something that occurred to me yeas ago. At the time there was a popular country song called “Heads Carolina” about a couple who has grown tired of their sedentary life and need to get away. The singer suggests they flip a coin to determine which way they’ll go. It’s a good song and I like it—I think once in a while we all feel like chucking it for “somewhere greener, somewhere warmer”.
What cracks me up about the song, however, is when she’s considering places to go. She says (or sings), “I’ve got people in Boston. Ain’t your Daddy still in Des Moines?” Okay, Boston I can see. Maybe. But going to see my in-laws in Des Moines? DES MOINES?!
Get this picture. Here is a nice young man who loves his wife very much. They’ve had some tough times, and now she wants to get away from it all with him. He loves her spontaneity. He gets excited thinking about hitting the road. He has already been mentally packing his bags—swim trunks, Hawaiian shirts, sun screen. He is reaching in his pocket for the quarter when she says. “I know! We can go see your Daddy in Des Moines!”
He releases his grip on the quarter, dumps the mental suitcase, and reaches for the remote. He’s not going anywhere!
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