Month: March 2016

Carts

The Untouchable cart rescue

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date March 31, 2016
No Comments on The Untouchable cart rescue

Remember that awesome scene in “The Untouchables” when Eliot Ness and Agent Stone have a shootout with the mafia guys in the middle of a train station?

What do you mean you’ve never seen “The Untouchables”? Sigh. What am I going to do with you. Alright, go rent it. Or piece it together through YouTube clips. Meet you back here in two hours.

OK, so now, awesome right? Well, the tensest part of that scene is obviously the baby stroller rolling away from Ness, who tries to simultaneously catch the stroller and shoot roughly 4,000 bad guys.

Ness and Stone ultimately shoot at least 3,998 of them and save the baby in super cool heroic fashion.

It took two of them to do it. I only needed me.

It happened the other day in the parking lot of my local grocery store. As I have told you far more times than you have wanted to hear, I consider myself a leader in the cart return movement. Carts have for generations been a noble working breed in our stores, and they deserve the respect and care of being returned to their corrals after use.

The cart army has grown over the years, and I believe the tide is definitely turning in our favor, to the point where serious federal legislation is being discussed to make abandoning carts a federal offense. (And by “serious” I mean “imaginary.”)

Nonetheless we are making a difference in the parking lot world, one cart at a time.

But every now and again, a cart goes rogue without the discourteous hand of an abandoning shopper.

I was turning down a lane looking for a spot. In this aisle, there are two free spots at the very front. Then, on either side, the next eight are reserved, for handicapped, expectant moms and veterans. If you are a handicapped pregnant veteran, you can pretty much just triple park and no one can say a word to you.

The first two spots were taken, so I was prepared to head toward the end of the aisle, which is fine, because I don’t think walking an extra 40 feet is exactly a trial of Job.

As I headed down the aisle, I saw the nose of a cart emerge from behind a car on my left. It inched out a little more. And a little more. And then it emerged free of the car, no shopper’s hand to guide it. The shopper was halfway in her car situating some groceries as the fairly full cart began barreling down the parking lot.

Cue the violin music and go to slow motion. “Untouchables” time.

I hit the gas and turned the wheel just enough to steer to the right of the cart. The cart was now about 10 feet from her car and picking up speed.

I saw her emerge from her car and see the cart speeding away. Her eyes went wide. I can’t be certain, but I think she may have screamed (in slow motion, of course) “MY BABY!”

My car caught up with the cart and I nosed to the left, setting myself on a collision course for it. I extended my arm out the window and caught the front the of the cart just before it touched my side mirror. I eased us both to a stop, put my car in park and emerged from the car. I turned the cart around as the woman was approaching me. She looked mortified. “I am so sorry!” she said. I just tipped my fedora, nodded and said, “Ma’am.”

After I parked my car and was heading to the store, the woman whose baby (OK, groceries) I had saved was finishing unloading her groceries. I approached her and said, “I’ll get your cart. Again.” Wink. Pretty sure she swooned a smidge.

We Untouchables get that all the time.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Charleston. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

Happy St. Parker’s Day

On March 17, as you all celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, my wife and I will celebrate the day as we have every year since 2003 — as St. Parker’s Day.

This year, our son Parker becomes a teenager. Lucky number 13.

He was originally going to be named Patrick. Then, on March 17, as my wife was in the middle of hatching our second child, she proclaimed, “His name’s not Patrick. It’s Parker.”

Her doctor told her she didn’t have to name him right then. “IT’S PARKER!” she said. I think she shot lasers from her eyes, but I can’t be certain.

From that day forward, Parker Whitfield Gibbons launched into the world full on. Because he has me as a father, he has the blessings and/or curses that come straight from me. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He can’t sit still for more than 3 seconds tops. Chattering? An art form.

But I’ve made it 30 years past my 13th birthday with these traits, and I think I’ve done OK.

So today, on the occasion of St. Parker’s Day, I would like to impart some wisdom to my son as he embarks on the next stage of life.

So, Parker, remember:

Words matter. Sure, we all know the bad ones do. They sting. They hurt. If you’re receiving them, they’re tough. If you’re giving them, you know you have that voice inside that says, “That hurt someone.” Remember that voice. But also remember the power of kind words. You and I go on lots of adventures, tromping in nature and finding exciting things. You may not realize this, but more often than not, as we are wrapping up our adventures, usually in the car ride home, you say to me, “Thanks, Dad.” That means more than you will know, at least until you become a father.
You will love someone and they will break your heart. Or, you may break someone’s heart. It is going to happen. And you both will be OK. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the next day. But you will move on. And you will find that person.
Lift the lid. I grew up with three older sisters, so that was easily corrected in me early on. Trust me — this is an easy way to be a good young man.
Never take your talents for granted, and never believe you can’t get better. As you have heard me say probably too many times, “Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.”
Play fair. It’s always better to lose with dignity than to win by deceit.
Do the things you don’t want to do so you can do the things you want to. Life is hard work, and not all of it is fun. But doing the things that are not high on your list of Want To is a requirement for a fulfilling life.
You are not the main actor in anyone else’s play. You are only starring in yours. And that’s the only one you have full control over.
You were fortunate to be born into a very big family. And they will always be there for you. But you also need to always be there for them. And sometimes, you need to make sure they know you’re there.
Your two biggest passions are sports and nature. Your favorite sports teams will let you down. A lot. But nature will always be there for you. If your team loses, remember nature. A walk in the woods cures many ills, including a heartbreaking loss.
Negativity is the breeding ground for unhappiness. If you find yourself in that place in life where you are only finding the negatives in situations, recalibrate. If every time you go to a restaurant, you only focus on the thing that was wrong, you’re neglecting all the things that were right. Let the right things drive your experiences.
Never stop being you. And never stop trying to be a better you. I’m 43, and I’m still a work in progress. And that’s OK.

Happy 13th birthday, my man. And here’s to many more adventures. And in case I haven’t told you lately: Thanks, Parker.

Animals Family

Murphy’s law

Murphy defends his home turf against all intruders.

I have had some great dogs in my life. I’m talking first ballot Hall of Famers.

When I was a kid, I had BD, a German Shepherd who was the greatest dog a boy could ever have. When I was in college, I had Montgomery, a purebred mutt that was the first joint purchase my wife and I made some 20 years ago and was the most loyal friend you could ever ask for. We had Maggie the Attack Basset, a noble and gentle soul who showed aggression at about the same level as a dandelion. And we currently have Maddux the Stoic, a boxer who is regal and obedient and fiercely protective.

It’s like a Mt. Rushmore of canine companionship.

And then there’s Murphy. Murphy is our Dachshund. He’s kinda dumpy. Our vet once suggested he go on a diet, as he was meatloaf shaped. He really doesn’t listen well. Or, really, at all. I’m pretty sure his eyesight is going, mainly based on the fact that he routinely walks into the sliding glass door when trying to go outside.

He has never met a trash can he has not tried to turn over. If there is trash inside the can, all the better. Let’s spread it around the kitchen for everyone to enjoy! No trash? No problem! Let’s tip it over and just root around inside and shred the plastic bag.

When we take him to the beach, he will go to the ocean and drink the water.

If you are in the kitchen, there is no place he would rather be than between your feet, usually stealthily sneaking up there so that you don’t realize he’s there until you almost trip over him as you go to open the oven.

Murphy does not have the toughness of BD. He doesn’t have the loyalty of Montgomery. He doesn’t have the royal disposition of Maggie. And he doesn’t have the stoicism of Maddux.

He’s got bum eyes, a bit of a girth issue, an inability to pay attention, and an appetite for destruction in the kitchen, of things both inanimate and animate. Not exactly the things you put on your dog resume.

But you know what, that dog does have something none of the others I’ve had did: He has the ability to appear positively worthless, but also be just an awesome dog for just being who he is.

We got Murphy about 10 years ago. A co-worker passed away, and we ended up with Murphy. We had planned to find Murphy a home, and we tried a couple of places here and there, to no avail. My wife and I were sitting with him one night, planning for the next step for finding him a home. “You know,” my wife said. “He’s a pretty sweet dog…”

And so it was written. Murphy joined our home. Murphy routinely dug out of the yard and would end up all over the place. We always got a call (our number is on his collar), usually from someone who had picked him up in the middle of a road, where he walked down the middle of the street, oblivious to every danger around him.

It’s not like he was trying to escape. Well, I guess he was escaping. But he wasn’t doing it with any urgency. He was just ambling about, seeing where life took him.

And I guess that’s what I admire about Murphy. He’s all about where life takes him. He sees something he wants to do, and he just does it. He’s got no strings attached to life, no real higher purpose, and no reason to do anything but what he feels like he should do next.

Don’t get me wrong. He does have some upsides. He likes to snuggle up with my wife, assuming he can sit wherever he wants. And he is a very good defender against enemies of the house, making sure to bark soundly at possums, armadillos, box turtles, and the occasional imaginary invader. But he’s just kinda living by his own creed. Life is on his dime.

There is something enviable about the fact that he just lives his life how we wants to. The other great dogs in my life — they sought me out for affirmation (and dog biscuits). Murphy’s good in his own fur. He’ll just live his life how he wants to, thank you very much.

Now lest you think he is some sociopathic drifter who just occupies my house as a captive plotting revenge and escape, I assure you — he is not a cat. He’s just a simple creature with a simple goal in life — go and be Murphy. And sometimes, that’s OK.

That’s worth at least a few votes on his first Hall of Fame ballot.

Childhood Family

The wait is over

As a parent, one of my key jobs is to tell my children things that make them roll their eyes.

Among some of the things in the Hall of Fame of Dadisms that my kids absolutely love hearing:

When they tell me something isn’t fair, I tell them that the world is not fair, and they should be thankful for that, because it’s not fair in their favor.
When they inform me that they are not interested in performing a task, I tell them that’s perfect because I absolutely wanted to do it for them. I also frequently add that “Enthusiasm is not required.”
“Spirit vs. letter!” They absolutely love to hear this when they try and get out of things on a technicality, of which my wife and I will have no part. We are a spirit of the law household. Also, a monarchy.

But of late, my most common repeated utterance is one simple word, a word that used to be a fine word. Used to serve a great purpose. It’s even mentioned twice in the title of my favorite NPR show. But, alas, my kids have ruined it for me, primarily because it starts about 80 percent of the sentences that come out of their mouths: “Wait.”

I am not sure when it started. But suddenly one day, I realized both had become beholden to starting sentences with “Wait.” And far too often, said sentence involves stating the obvious. For example, let’s say I’m walking in with a handful of grocery bags.

ME: Hey, can you grab the rest of the groceries from the car?

EITHER CHILD: Wait – did you go to the grocery store?

Or, say we’re getting ready for school in the morning, and I am going to take one of the kids to car line. I grab my keys and head to the front door:

ME: Alright, let’s go.

EITHER CHILD: Wait – you’re taking me to school today?

Once it became clear that they were stuck in this verbal record skip, I decided I would do what dads do best – respond with dad commentary. So, when they say, “Wait – did you go to the grocery store?” I will now respond, “Wait – no. I was at the Houston Astrodome. They were giving away groceries there.” Or when they say, “Wait – you’re taking me to school today?” I will say, “Wait – no. We’re going to the Houston Astrodome. It’s grocery day.”

Now, you may think that I am being petty with them, but I know that my message is getting across. And how do I know this? Because both kids have said, “Dad, stop saying ‘wait’ back to me.” My daughter tried to go down the path of “It’s a word. Get over it.” That resulted in a ridiculously long lecture from me on words and their impact over the course of history. Some of it may have even been true.

I’m really not doing it just to jab at them. That’s just an added bonus. But one of best things a parent can give their child is the gift of effective communication. And if they will take a refined approach to the English language on their journey through life, they will have an advantage. And you never know where that journey may lead you. Could even be to the Houston Astrodome. Wait — for grocery day?