“What’s new in West Bloomfield?”
Yesterday (Friday, January 9, 2009), I patronized “Hairman” in nearby Honeoye Falls “to get cleaned up.”
I was probably about two weeks early. My next hair-appointment is six weeks out, instead of five.
What’s usually involved is a permanent, a haircut, and a beard-trim with his giant electric clippers.
So now my hair may be too short, and my beard was short enough before trimming to use his small battery-powered clipper.
Hairman, like me, is getting old. He’s 67.
His wife died recently of cancer, although her death was probably more the chemo.
I felt bad about that, since my wife had cancer, yet survived.
He also has arthritis in his hands, so he had to rely on his wife to do the handiwork.
Plus she did all the bookkeeping.
Usually I don’t say much, having speech compromised by my stroke.
But, “What’s new in West Bloomfield?”
“Well, nothing much,” I said; “except we all voted down that proposed land purchase.”
A while ago some land-owner donated part of a farm-field to the town for a park, although mainly it became athletic fields.
A picnic-pavilion was also built, and plastic playground equipment installed.
A small parcel adjacent was purchased, but hasn’t been developed; only graded flat.
So now the land-owner proposed selling the rest of the field to the Town, and the Town was gonna purchase it for almost twice the assessed value.
“A sweetheart deal,” I told Hairman.
“The Town also wanted to use that land for a new town-hall, a new Firehouse, and a new Department-of-Public-Works facility.
“Can’t they remodel the old town-hall?” Hairman asked.
“It’s a shambles,” I said. “It would cost way more to remodel it than build a new town-hall.
The Town has outgrown its facilities; everything is too small.”
“Sounds like the library issue here in Honeoye Falls,” Hairman said.
“Yeah, I saw all the signs promoting the proposition,” I said.
“You’ve seen that library,” Hairman said. “It’s way too small.
Lots of plans to build a new library, but nothing very specific.
Just ‘have you seen that library in Brighton? It looks like the Taj Mahal.’
So Honeoye Falls wants to build a library that’ll put Brighton’s library to shame.
To my mind, library-users are essentially on welfare. Ya don’t need a library to get information. What about the Internet?”
“Tell that to Granny,” I said. “‘Computers! I’m sure glad you understand ‘em!’”
I’m under the dryer, and Hairman sat down next to me.
“I don’t know about you,” I said; “but my credit-card bill comes every month, and I pay it off in full every month. It’s really just a cash card. —Both cars are mine, the mortgage is paid off; I don’t owe anybody anything.”
“So do I,” he said.
“My mortgage is paid off — I own my house. Cars too. (He sold one car because of his wife dying.)
It’s very simple,” he said.
“If I can’t afford it, I don’t buy it.”
“Right. Neither car is a Corvette, and I don’t own a yacht or an 89 bazilyun dollar motorized camper.
And we get all this weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth about mortgage foreclosures, and declaring bankruptcy because your debt is out-of-sight.”
“Well, buy a $350,000 house and if your job tanks, ya can’t pay your mortgage. Why should I carry these freeloaders when I’m responsible?
If I can’t afford it, I don’t buy it.”
The discussion continued.
Some friend suggested he go out for drinks with some lady who had recently lost her husband.
“Oh well, what the hell?”
He goes to the tavern, and meets the lady, who is utterly unattractive, an old hag.
He gets out his cellphone and calls his daughter.
“Call me back in about five minutes.”
She does, and “Sorry; I have to leave. I have a family emergency.”
“Boy, Joseph; I sure hope I never end up in your shoes,” I said. (“Joseph” is Hairman.)
I was probably about two weeks early. My next hair-appointment is six weeks out, instead of five.
What’s usually involved is a permanent, a haircut, and a beard-trim with his giant electric clippers.
So now my hair may be too short, and my beard was short enough before trimming to use his small battery-powered clipper.
Hairman, like me, is getting old. He’s 67.
His wife died recently of cancer, although her death was probably more the chemo.
I felt bad about that, since my wife had cancer, yet survived.
He also has arthritis in his hands, so he had to rely on his wife to do the handiwork.
Plus she did all the bookkeeping.
Usually I don’t say much, having speech compromised by my stroke.
But, “What’s new in West Bloomfield?”
“Well, nothing much,” I said; “except we all voted down that proposed land purchase.”
A while ago some land-owner donated part of a farm-field to the town for a park, although mainly it became athletic fields.
A picnic-pavilion was also built, and plastic playground equipment installed.
A small parcel adjacent was purchased, but hasn’t been developed; only graded flat.
So now the land-owner proposed selling the rest of the field to the Town, and the Town was gonna purchase it for almost twice the assessed value.
“A sweetheart deal,” I told Hairman.
“The Town also wanted to use that land for a new town-hall, a new Firehouse, and a new Department-of-Public-Works facility.
“Can’t they remodel the old town-hall?” Hairman asked.
“It’s a shambles,” I said. “It would cost way more to remodel it than build a new town-hall.
The Town has outgrown its facilities; everything is too small.”
“Sounds like the library issue here in Honeoye Falls,” Hairman said.
“Yeah, I saw all the signs promoting the proposition,” I said.
“You’ve seen that library,” Hairman said. “It’s way too small.
Lots of plans to build a new library, but nothing very specific.
Just ‘have you seen that library in Brighton? It looks like the Taj Mahal.’
So Honeoye Falls wants to build a library that’ll put Brighton’s library to shame.
To my mind, library-users are essentially on welfare. Ya don’t need a library to get information. What about the Internet?”
“Tell that to Granny,” I said. “‘Computers! I’m sure glad you understand ‘em!’”
I’m under the dryer, and Hairman sat down next to me.
“I don’t know about you,” I said; “but my credit-card bill comes every month, and I pay it off in full every month. It’s really just a cash card. —Both cars are mine, the mortgage is paid off; I don’t owe anybody anything.”
“So do I,” he said.
“My mortgage is paid off — I own my house. Cars too. (He sold one car because of his wife dying.)
It’s very simple,” he said.
“If I can’t afford it, I don’t buy it.”
“Right. Neither car is a Corvette, and I don’t own a yacht or an 89 bazilyun dollar motorized camper.
And we get all this weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth about mortgage foreclosures, and declaring bankruptcy because your debt is out-of-sight.”
“Well, buy a $350,000 house and if your job tanks, ya can’t pay your mortgage. Why should I carry these freeloaders when I’m responsible?
If I can’t afford it, I don’t buy it.”
The discussion continued.
Some friend suggested he go out for drinks with some lady who had recently lost her husband.
“Oh well, what the hell?”
He goes to the tavern, and meets the lady, who is utterly unattractive, an old hag.
He gets out his cellphone and calls his daughter.
“Call me back in about five minutes.”
She does, and “Sorry; I have to leave. I have a family emergency.”
“Boy, Joseph; I sure hope I never end up in your shoes,” I said. (“Joseph” is Hairman.)
posted by BobbaLew at 10:55 AM
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