Monday, May 25, 2015

The Joys Of Truck Driving

First, the bad news: I’m writing this blog post from the side of the road at 3:30 am. I hit a deer with the semi and it took out the radiator, and the bumper, and the grille. Another driver is on his way to get the trailer and a tow truck is coming to take the tractor. And hopefully, they arrive in that order. Since the other driver is my ride back to the terminal, I’d really like him to get here first. Otherwise, I’ll be sitting on the side of the freeway—literally—or, standing, I suppose. In any event, with no vehicle, the freeway doesn’t sound like a fun place to be.

I could have gotten a ride earlier but company policy says the driver must remain with the vehicle until it is picked up. That way if someone comes along and runs into the truck, the driver will be sure to be injured! (Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense to us either). But if the tow truck hasn’t arrived by the time the next driver gets here, I’ll be leaving the tractor sit all by it’s lonesome.

Now, the good news: It was the semi that got damaged, not my pickup, and I’m still getting paid. So, I hit a deer and get three hours of extra pay! Not a bad deal. Only thing is, I have to sit here with nothing to do for, well, three hours.

I’ve hit deer before but it never really dawned on me that my job description included hunting! I should do this more often! It’s a much cheaper way to hunt. Unfortunately however, there will be no venison going in my freezer. Deer do not tend to fare well after being run over by a semi and from the looks of the right side of my trailer, I got him with the full length of the truck.

Oh, just got some great news! I’ve been informed that I have about another forty-five minutes to wait. So, with nothing better to do, I think I’ll take a nap. Maybe. As long as nobody runs into the back end of my trailer!

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 also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.


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Monday, May 18, 2015

My Mother

I know that Mother’s Day was last week but this post is about my Mother. Just ignore the fact that I’m running a little behind.

Recently, my Mother remarked that she can’t remember doing a whole lot for me and my brother when we were young. She knows she probably did, but it’s just hard to remember specifics. Well, yes, she did do a lot. And I have a few specifics.

Obviously, she fed and clothed me, and took care of me when I was sick—you know, all the things that a normal mother does. But my Mom was, and is, far above the norm.

I remember going to friend’s houses when I was a boy and when lunch or supper time came, everyone was expected to eat what their mother prepared. Really! Everyone ate the same thing, always. A few times, I mentioned how strange that was to me. My friends thought I was the strange one. They told me that’s how most mothers were; they fixed one meal and expected everyone to eat whatever they cooked. Well, that may be the case for most mothers but not my Mom!

My Mom would make us whatever we wanted—different things for everyone! She’d say something like: “I’m fixing soup for me and your dad, and fried potatoes with eggs for your brother. Do you want either one of those or something else? I can make fried chicken or warm up some spaghetti. Oh, and I’ve got some left over beef and gravy if you want that.” To this day, when I’m at my parents’ house, she still does that. And it’s still pretty great!

She’s the one who instilled in me an absolute love of singing, and music in general—well, as long as the music is country. I’m not too impressed with rock, pop, rap, or any other name you want to give non-country music. When I was six or seven years old and trying to learn to play the guitar, she would play the piano and I’d play along. When I didn’t hear a key change, she’d interrupt her own singing long enough to say “change.” I would change, usually just in time for her to call out the next one that I’d missed. To this day, when I’m listening to people play music, and they miss a key change, I still hear a voice in my head, my Mother’s voice, saying, “Change!”

Back before the days of the Internet, there was mail order. When she could, my Mom saved up box tops or whatever else was required and sent off for items she knew we would like. I remember when we got a set of Kool-aid cups in the mail. They were awesome and we were excited! My brother got the Grape one, I got the Strawberry cup.

On long car trips that we made halfway across the country, numerous ones, she taught my brother and I little games to play to keep our minds occupied. I still do some of those to this day since, as a truck driver, I seem to find myself behind the wheel for hours on end.

At home, she would spread a quilt on the floor, a patchwork quilt with blocks that we pretended was a town with roads. We’d drive our cars on the roads and Mom would help us play by setting up various objects from around the house to represent buildings.

When I was real little, I remember her reading to me (Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn or The Little House In The Big Woods, for example), taking me to the swings in the park, taking me to see the horses behind our church, making homemade toys out of paper and tissues, or putting a big stack of records on the stereo so I could listen for hours.

She had a huge collection of buttons that she used to let us play with too, and scraps of material. Not sure why that was fun but it was and even more so when my mother would join in.

As I got a bit older, the activities changed. My Mom sold Avon and when the shipment would come in, I got to help sort it and fill the orders! The games we played also changed: Life, Payday, and Trouble. And, she let me help her bake, which really meant eating lots of dough and licking the beaters.

She taught me to cook, showed me how to break beans, shuck corn, and a whole host of other cooking related things. Oh, and how to churn butter in a jar! Some people may not look at these things as fun but I did. And there were lots more of them. In addition, I developed a like of drawing, a love of singing, and a passion for writing songs—all of which I got from my Mother.

If you notice, most of what I’ve mentioned are not big or expensive things. They’re not even what most people would consider significant. Yet, it’s things like these and so many more that I remember. I think of them from time to time and get lost in my memories.

In essence, what my mother gave me was the safe feeling of a comfortable and loving home. And that is priceless! So, thanks Mom, for everything you did!

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Note: I will be interviewed by Radio host John Fioravanti on Wednesday, May 20, 2015 at 11:00 CST. You can listen to the interview here.


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 also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Sunday, May 10, 2015

No More Children

As of last week, I’m now the proud parent of three adult children. My kids are no longer kids. Okay, they haven’t been kids for quite some time—the last one moved out nearly three years ago. But he is now twenty-one so, at long last, I’m done with the parenting thing. My job is finished!

So why then, do I feel like it isn’t? Why do I still feel responsible for them? Why do I still worry about their well being? And, why do I still feel the need to protect them? To provide for them? After all, they all manage to live quite well on their own. All three have decent jobs and are productive members of society. They no longer need me.

I guess I should be happy about that and, in some ways, I am. I’m proud of them for maturing into responsible adults. Proud of them for being independent. proud of them for being competent. Still, mentally, the parenting mindset persists. And I’m not sure what to do about it. Nothing, I suppose. But, sometimes that’s hard. Because, I am still the dad!

I’m sure that I am not the first parent to experience this. Probably won’t be the last either. I’m certain that most parents go through the same thing; the worry, angst, and feeling responsible for one’s children never goes away. Obviously, being a parent is not a temporary role.

So, I guess I’m not done with the parenting thing after all. Once a parent, always a parent... apparently.

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 also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.


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Sunday, May 3, 2015

On Solid Footing

I’m sure most people know what the footing for a building is but for those who may not be familiar with the term, I’ll give you a short definition. As it relates to building, a footing is (usually) the base that forms the foundation. And usually, though not always, footings extend deep into the ground, which is why we refer to it as digging a footing. In the old days, footings consisted of rocks, big rocks, that wouldn’t move. These days, we pour them in concrete—much easier than hauling heavy rocks and setting them in place.

The idea of a footing is so you can build your house (or whatever you happen to be building) on something solid. A footing anchors the building to the ground, barring a tornado or some other natural disaster. To dig a footing, you basically dig a trench around the perimeter of where your building will set. Depending on what is being built, additional footings may also need to be dug as well.

Okay, now for my story:

I was five the first time I helped dig footings. My dad was preparing to build a new house and as he typically does, he was doing all the work himself. By that, I mean he wasn’t hiring any help like a contractor. He did, however, have two sons who “volunteered.” My brother was three years older than I so he probably actually contributed to the effort. But I’m not sure how much help I was. At five years old, I was too young to be much real help, that I know. But I do remember scooping up dirt with a shovel and piling it off to the side. And, I remember getting my clothes filthy—so I must have done something. Still, I’m pretty certain my dad did most of the work.

That was forty-three years ago, which is mind-boggling to me. But that number is correct according to my brain’s calculations. Forty-three years. During that time, I’ve had many other opportunities to dig or help dig footings, though I’ll admit it has been a long while since the last one. As a truck driver, I do a pretty decent job of avoiding manual labor!

But recently, my parents purchased a different house so they could move closer to their children and grandchildren. The house needed a garage so, once again, my dad set out to dig a footing—by hand, and of course, by himself.

Well, I didn’t think he should be doing this all by his lonesome, after all, he’s older than I! (Profound bit of knowledge there)! So, against my body’s protests, I went to help one day. Yeah, just one day. Digging in rocky ground with a pick and a shovel is hard work! And then there are the big boulders that need to have a sledge hammer used on them. More hard work! But, I showed up and at least pretended to help. I’m now too old to be much real help, that I know. And yes, once again, my dad did most of the work!

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 also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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