Month: April 2017

Unfortunate life experience checklist item? Check.

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date April 26, 2017
No Comments on Unfortunate life experience checklist item? Check.

I’m no fan of cliches. I try to avoid them in my writing and in my everyday speech. In fact, I avoid them like the plague.

Ha! See what I did there?

Anywho, I recently rattled off a couple of cliches that, in retrospect, were two of the most true things I’ve ever said: “I’m just glad no one was hurt” and “We can replace a car. We can’t replace you.”

Yes, my daughter has had that unfortunate life experience to check off the list: a car wreck.

We got the call the other evening. My wife came darting to the porch where I was sitting. “Come on. Allie’s been in a wreck.”

She filled me in as we sprinted to my car. Allie had rear-ended someone a couple of blocks from our house. She was OK, my wife told me, but obviously a wreck emotionally as well.

When we pulled up, we saw the two cars in the middle of the road. Allie’s car was all kinds of smashed up, with the hood buckled and airbags deployed. The car she hit had much less damage, with just a bit of a mangled rear bumper.

This was one of those parenting moments where you realize that the cliche really is the only thing that’s accurate at that point. It’s like when your wife is pregnant and someone asks if you want a boy or a girl. Yeah, most of us just really are hoping for a healthy baby. Or when you are a dad out with your kids and someone says, “Babysitting today?” and you respond, “No, I’m parenting.” While that last one might not be a cliche, I felt it needed to be said.

The officer came and gave us an accident report (yes, it was her fault), and car was soon on the back of a truck headed to a tow yard.

I started the insurance fun the next morning. The day after that, we got the news we kind of expected: the car was totaled.

Quick backstory on the car: The car was a Christmas gift to her a couple of years ago from my inlaws. It has been her great uncle’s car, who passed away at the age of 94. Her grandparents decided that it would be a good first car, and surprised her with it. We even had an elaborate reveal that involved a scavenger hunt and concluded with her grandfather, rocking a Santa shirt, pulling it out of the garage to surprise her. The look on her face was priceless, and she loved this car with all her heart. It was her baby.

So, needless to say, the news that it was totaled was devastating.

And while that news stunk, I prefer to look at it this way: The car took the brunt of the wreck so that my daughter didn’t. It was the K-2SO of cars that day. (If that makes no sense, ask a Star Wars fan to explain.) Thank you, Chevrolet, and the safety engineers who made this so. Thank you, Nana and Pop, for passing down a car that she would not only love, but that, far more importantly, would keep her safe.

Allie got back behind the wheel a couple of days after the wreck. The first time I offered the chance, she politely declined. I think she was considering just how bad it would be to ride a bike everywhere from now on. But alas (cliche alert) back on the horse.

We have definitely used the experience to be overbearing parents with copious amounts of lectures and lessons learned. Our daughter has dutifully endured them.

We will figure out what we do from here. She made a mistake, but we all do. I had a wreck when I was her age, as did her mother, and we both became much better drivers as a result. You’re in charge of a one-ton rolling box that, while designed to protect you, is not perfect. Don’t make the same mistake twice.

So we move on. And in the interest of avoiding any more cliches, I will just remind my daughter that her future driving performance should be improved by this, if she learns the lessons it taught. I am confident she will be a better driver now. And she will she show us that is the case with safe driving from here on out, as actions speak louder than words. (See what I did again?)

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

Hook, pain and Parker.

My son loves to go fishing. We have ponds near our house, and he spends countless hours with a line in the water.

Oftentimes, he goes by himself, which is an awesome thing for a 14-year-old boy to go do. Just set off on your own, fishing pole in hand, and chill by the water.

But this night, he wanted his mom to come with him. I was cooking dinner, and he asked her if she would come and see his new lure in action. “Sure,” she said.

Parker, about 20 seconds before it all went south.

Fast forward about 10 minutes. I’m in the kitchen, happily watching Jeopardy! and getting our dinner prepped, thinking about how lovely it was that my wife was with our son, sitting on the bank of a serene pond, watching the bass tease the lure, just enjoying a lovely spring evening.

And then my phone rang. It was my wife. “GET DOWN TO THE POND NOW! PARKER HAS A HOOK IN HIS HAND!”

Now, first know this — my wife is the ace when it comes to first aid. She has tended to kids with a magnolia branch in the eyeball, stitch-requiring head wounds, and countless numbers of fluid expulsions from goodness knows where. She does not flinch at things like that. She goes into uber-cool robo-Docmom mode.

However, the one thing none of the previous medical emergencies had in common with this one – this one had a large bass attached to the medical problem. Even after more than 20 years in my family, she will admit to not being the biggest up close and personal fan of animals. She likes them at a distance, but certainly not inches away when she tries to perform first aid on her son.

I put dinner aside and grabbed a hook remover out of my son’s tackle box. It’s basically a pair of clamps on a long shaft that helps you remove a hook without getting yourself snarled in the hook when a fish thrashes. In retrospect, he probably should have taken it with him.

I arrived on the scene and my son was down at the base of the water. My wife was pointing to him, but that was really not necessary, as anyone within about 500 yards could hear my son. “THIS HURTS! THIS HURTS! THIS HURTS! DAD LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THIS BASS! THIS HURTS!”

I got to my son and assessed the situation. The lure had a total of four treble hooks. Two were in the fish. Two were in Parker. Using the hook remover, I quickly backed the first one out of Parker. I went to get the other one, and Parker let out an unholy yowl that you do not want to be responsible for causing in your child.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s get the fish free.”

The fish apparently heard me, as it decided that would be a good time to thrash wildly. At that point, a neighbor came over, having heard the commotion. The neighbor held the fish steady, and offered words of encouragement to Parker. I was able to free the fish, and he pitched it in the water. It swam off, no doubt laughing at the vengeance it had extracted.

There was one last hook stuck in Parker. Unfortunately, it has one of those reverse barbs in it, so backing the hook out was not going to be an option, unless I wanted to tear Parker’s skin to do it. Parker made it very clear he was not on board with that.

The neighbor got a wire snip, and I was able to clip the hook and slide it out where the barb didn’t catch. Free at last.

We got him home and cleaned up the wound. He’ll be fine, and no doubt back fishing probably by tomorrow. Just a hunch if anyone goes with him, it won’t be my wife.

Family Food

PEE-can, PICK-ahn – the debate continues.

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date April 15, 2017
No Comments on PEE-can, PICK-ahn – the debate continues.

Here are some things that take about 30 minutes:

Viewing a network sitcom
Cooking some chicken
Watching about 1/10 of “Gone With the Wind”

Here is something that should NOT take 30 minutes:

Ordering fast food at a drive-through

My wife, son and I recently got to experience this unnecessary delay, and we would have been far more angry had it not been a comically amazing display of ineptitude.

It started at the speaker, where we placed our order. I ordered a few fairly standard items — cheeseburger, Coke, chicken nugget meal, vanilla milk shake, apple pecan chicken salad, and an unsweetened tea.

The voice from the speaker came back, “Sir, we don’t have that salad.”

I said, “It’s right there on the menu. Apple pecan chicken salad.”

A slight pause. “Um, we have a PEE-can chicken salad.” I know there are some distinct camps on the the pronunciation of “pecan.” I fall into the “pick-AHN” camp, and I don’t begrudge those who don’t. But I acknowledge they exist.

I looked at my wife. She was laughing too hard to help. I turned back to the speaker. “Yes, I meant the PEE-can salad.”

We pulled up. There was one car ahead of us. It took them about 15 minutes to get their order, and most everything that was passed to their car window was quickly sent back. This wasn’t going to end well.

So here’s a summary of the calamity that we then endured:

Handed an unsweetened tea. My wife tastes it. It’s sweet. Hand it back. Get a second. Also sweet. I hand it back. Dude at the window says, “Oh, that’s just how our unsweetened tea tastes.” No. No it does not. Third time an unsweetened charm.
Handed my Coke. Take a sip. Clearly Diet Coke. Hand it back. “Oh, that’s just how our Coke tastes.” No. No it does not. He says, “Look, that’s what came out of the Coke button.” Perhaps your Coke button is broken. He hands me another drink, and it is, miraculously, Coke.
Dude opens the window. “And you had a chocolate milkshake?” No, I told him. I am sure that, had he given me a chocolate milkshake, he would have said, “Oh, that’s just how our vanilla milkshakes are.”

After about five more minutes, I am growing increasingly, um, let’s just say, not happy. But still being nice. As is my way.

I leaned out my car window and motioned back to the car behind me and gave what I can only describe as the universal sign for, “I’m sorry I’m delaying everything but it’s not my fault because there is nothing but chaos inside.”

A manager saw me motioning and opened the window. “Everything OK?” he asked.

No, I told him. I said that we had been in line for, at that point, 26 minutes, and nothing we had gotten had been right on the first try. And occasionally the second try.

“But you have your food, right?”

That’s a big negative there, boss.

The manager said, “Hey, I apologize for the wait and everything. He’s new and learning.”

I responded, “He’s not ready, and you need to get him some help.” The manager give me the look of a gifted painter who knows what paints he has at his disposal to create his masterpiece. And he has a child’s dried up water color set.

A few minutes later, the manager returned and began handing us our food. I said, “I know the drive-through is backed up, but I’m going to check and make sure everything is right, since nothing has been right so far, OK?”

First bag. Salad – check. Second bag – nuggets – check. Third bag – Cheeseburger, some more nuggets, and some fries. I stared into the bag for a second.

“I threw some extra nuggets and fries into the last bag. I apologize for the wait.”

So at least the manager tried to make right by throwing us some nuggets and fries. I feel bad for the new employee, as he was clearly in over his head. Hey, maybe we were somehow to blame for setting everything off the rails. Maybe it all could have been avoided had I ordered a PEE-can salad from the start.

Childhood Family

The internet: Not always awful.

Post author By Mike Gibbons
Post date April 5, 2017
No Comments on The internet: Not always awful.

I think we can agree that, oftentimes, the internet is really just an awful place. If you are in doubt of that, just visit any YouTube comment section. I was going to give you an example of some, but pretty much every popular nice, sweet and innocent video I went to had comments so vile and hateful that I felt dirty after kicking around for about two minutes.

That said, the internet does have its redeeming qualities. For example, in the fall, when we are traveling on a Sunday, my son can give be a play-by-play commentary for football games, watching live feeds of NFL games. Or, you can use it to find virtually any recipe you want, which is fantastic, but I would like it known that no one — no one — wants to read an essay before you get to the recipe. Gimme the measurements and the oven settings.

Or, it can be when good folks come together to help out a 10-year-old on a school project.

My nephew Sam has to do a state project, and he chose Washington, as his teacher is from there. He sent a letter to the governor’s office to request information.

Now, I remember being his age and having a similar project. I chose Massachusetts, as my aunt and uncle lived there at the time. I wrote a similar letter (with no doubt awful handwriting), and a few weeks later received an awesome package in the mail with gobs of brochures and maps and such. It. Was. Awesome. I don’t remember what I got on my project, but I assume it was an A++++.

Well, imagine Sam’s disappointment when his package arrived. It was a single sheet of paper. Among the things in the letter, it said, “Due to budget constraints, we are no longer sending packets of information. However, a wide array of information is available on the Governor’s website and other state websites.”

What followed was a paragraph highlighting these websites, and included hyperlinks to various sites. Not sure when the last time you tried to click on a hyperlink on a printed piece of paper, but, yeah, you can’t. Because it’s on printed paper, and NOT THE INTERNET!

This bothered me. I get that budgets are tight. And I understand that we want our public officials to be good stewards of our money. But it’s a 10-year-old! Wanting to learn about your state! Is there that much demand for the Evergreen State info from elementary school kids? How big does the budget have to be to throw a few pamphlets in the mail?

So, with my sister’s OK, I went to a few Washington-centric message boards and posted a link to the letter he received and a plea to help out a 10-year-old. I said:

“My nephew is 10, and was really excited about his project on Washington, as his teacher is from there. Unfortunately, budget cuts have apparently nixed getting a cool package of Washington-specific stuff. If there is anyone out there who might be able to help him out, that would be awesome. Also, it would further cement my status as Uncle Awesome.”

And this is yet another time when the internet is not awful. About a week later, I had received several packages from folks who had gathered up brochures, guides, maps, etc. all about Washington. Those folks didn’t have to do that at all, but it’s a great reminder that awesome people do exist, and, yes, they exist on the internet.

I gave my nephew is Washington packet the other day, and I can’t wait to see his project. He’s got plenty of information, and, as I told my sister, the pamphlets that were sent make me want to go visit Washington.

I hope the Washington governor’s office will reconsider their stance on not sending out packets. Maybe they need to have some guidelines that can help keep the budget lean, such as, I don’t know, when it’s a 10-year-old in South Carolina trying to learn about your state, it’s OK to send some stuff.

Even if they don’t change their policy, I’m so glad some folks stepped up and helped out a kid trying to do a project. It’s what makes the internet not so awful.