Okie Engineering

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Okie engineering is the meeting of necessity with an adequate amount of knowledge and ability to make things work. It’s not always pretty but it does serve to get the job done. Sometimes, Okie engineering is brilliant mechanics and sometimes it’s just practical common sense. Either way, it usually saves time and money and comes in quite handy. I use it all the time - and I’m not even from Oklahoma. Fixing broken things without the right tools and without the right parts may not produce a grand masterpiece - but if it works then who cares, right?

Well, the answer to that is: professional people or government inspectors. (I’m not entirely sure the last category counts). Apparently, both groups frown on unorthodox methods of rigging things together, even temporarily.

Several years ago, when I first started driving a truck for a living, I was cruising down the highway late one rainy Friday night. The steady hum of the tires on the pavement was interrupted by my low-air warning buzzer and then the bright red light came on. Almost as suddenly, my brakes locked up. Contrary to popular belief, when a semi loses air, it does not lose the brakes, rather it loses the ability to release the brakes. A complete loss of air means the truck is not going anywhere except very quickly to the side of the road. The nice part was that with the rain, the eight trailer tires slid easily off to the shoulder.

And so, there I was alongside the road, not able to move. It didn’t take long to find the problem. One of the main air lines on the trailer had been cut completely in two. (This was sort of odd considering these air lines are about an inch thick, reinforced hard rubber). I didn’t have much for tools (a Gerber all-purpose tool on my belt) and had no parts. An extra air line would have been nice but then, I would’ve had no way to make a splice anyway. After determining the line had been too loose and swaying back and forth, I saw what had severed it - the spare tire rack.

Returning to the cab, I looked through the junk in my toolbox, hoping to find something I could use. I did. A roll of duct tape. Knowing the tape would never stick to the air line, which was covered with an oily road-grime, I used a can of Coke to clean it, drying the line with a rag. As anyone who’s ever wiped up spilled soda can imagine, that left things pretty sticky. I wrapped a single layer of tape around the line to hold the two parts together - barely. With 120 pounds of pressure that would be going through the line, the duct tape would provide an initial seal but would never hold by itself once the system was charged with air. I soon solved that.

Finding three large paper clips, I used the file on my Gerber to sharpen the ends and pushed them through the ends of the air line. The third paper clip was used to twist all three together. This would keep the two lines from pulling apart but it was still flimsy. I needed something to provide more strength. Spotting a small tree limb from the shoulder of the road, I used the knife on my Gerber to shave it into a splint. Then, attaching the splint to the splice, I covered it all with half a roll of duct tape. I still had eighty miles to go to the terminal and I crossed my fingers as I pulled back onto the road.

The mechanic on duty took a look at my handiwork when I pulled into the shop and I could tell he wasn’t impressed. Shaking his head, he pulled things apart and fixed it the “right” way. “You’re lucky you didn’t have to cross a scale,” he said. “The DOT (government inspectors) would never let that Okie engineering pass.”

It didn’t bother me that he found no use for my repair job. “It worked,” I told him. “And it saved you from going on a service call on a Friday night.”

He didn’t answer.

A few years later - or slightly more than a few, time flies when you’re having fun - I was going across a scale when an ever-observant weighmaster heard an air leak. After finding the leak, he showed it to me - a sizeable hole in an air line. And after he messed with it a while, the hole grew even larger, in fact, it was barely holding together. He told me he would have to put the truck out of service.

Great, I thought. Friday night, just a few miles from home and there I sat. It would be several hours before my company could send a mechanic.

“Looks like you’ll be here awhile,” the DOT guy said as he started filling out the paperwork. “Unless... Can you fix it?”

“Uh, sure,” I answered, recalling that I had a roll of duct tape in the truck. And paper clips. And I still carried my Gerber.

An hour later, I rolled across the scale with the weighmaster outside listening carefully for air leaks. Then, shining his flashlight under the trailer, I saw him shake his head. But, he gave me the thumbs up, and I hit the road.

That mechanic years ago was wrong. Apparently, I can get my Okie engineering past the DOT!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526

My Winter Rule

Yay! Winter is almost over! Only four more days left!

Yes I know, technically, winter lasts until March 21st, but you see, I have a rule: no more snow, icy roads, or extreme cold after February. And since 2013 isn’t a leap year, that leaves just four more days. And I’m very glad. As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions, I do not like winter. I could blame my dislike on the fact that I drive a semi nearly 600 miles a day, but the truth is, even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t like it. Never did. Too cold, wet, and snowy. By this time of year, I’m really sick of it all. Thus, the rule.

My wife tells me I do not get to make the rules concerning the duration of winter but I disagree. I’ve had this rule for quite a few years, fifteen in fact, and not once during that time have I had to drive my semi on bad roads after February - it’s never even snowed! So apparently, I do get to make the rules. Of course, it may help that fifteen years ago, I moved to a milder climate - one where winter weather is usually over by mid-February.

I realize that by writing this blog I’m probably jinxing things. March 2013 will now become known as “that one winter.” That one winter that set a new record for snowfall. And freezing temperatures. That one winter that extended through the middle of April. That one winter that everyone remembers as the worst winter - for the entire region.

And that brings up a problem. Obviously, such a long winter would break my rule. But I’m not exactly sure what I could do about it. It’s not like I’m actually the boss of well, anything but especially, the weather. That would be God and I’m pretty sure He gets to do what He wants. He doesn’t generally check with me on these matters. Okay, He never checks with me on these matters. That’s all right. I really do not expect Him to.

I suppose then, my “rule” is more of a hopeful wish than any sort of requirement. And in light of that, I should really be thankful to live where my “rule” has prevailed for the last fifteen years. And I am.

Hey! Wait a second. What is that white stuff falling from the sky? Snow? Yep, it’s snowing on me. It wasn’t when I started writing this. “Time to kick off the cruise,” I mutter to myself as I blow out an exasperated sigh.

The good news is: there are only four more days of winter. Maybe.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

These Boots Are Made For Walking

At forty-five years of age, I thought I was done walking - well, not literally done, as in never to walk again. Done with walking long distances - you know, no farther than from the house to the pickup or, from the pickup into a store. Apparently however, I needed a little more exercise than I was getting.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my pickup in for some repairs. I was supposed to have it back that afternoon. With my wife at work, and not a single one of my three children around to give me a ride (since they ALL moved out) I walked home. It wasn’t that far actually; the walk took exactly eleven minutes. Later that afternoon, although the shop hadn’t called to say the truck was ready, I walked back. Another eleven minutes - for nothing as it turns out because they were not finished. It would be another couple of hours, they said. So, back to the house I went - walking.

Waiting patiently (as patiently as can be expected from a very impatient guy) for the time to pass, I returned to the shop - again, on foot. And again, the pickup wasn’t ready. And to make things worse, they’d found other issues that needed to be addressed. To fix it would take a couple of days. Okay, looks like I’m walking one more time, I thought. By now I was up to fifty-five minutes. For a guy not used to walking much, it might as well have been fifty-five hours! I was getting a little tired to say the least. But, as I discovered in the next few days, my legs were just getting broken in.

Down to only one vehicle, my wife and I learned to share. Since we work opposite shifts, her in the morning (like a normal person) and me at night, it wasn’t that hard - although, quite inconvenient. She had no car at night and I had none during the day. Which meant, if I wanted to go anywhere, it was back to my primary mode of transportation (as my son refers to it) my feet. I lost track of the trips - and the minutes - but for the last couple of weeks, I have done more walking than any one person should have to endure!

I do have the pickup back now. The guy from the repair shop called the other day to say it was finished. Finally! All I needed to do was go pick it up. Great. Just one little problem though, my wife was at work and with no kids at home (Did I mention they ALL have moved out? I’m not bummed about it or anything) the only way to get there was to walk. Then came the surprise. After two weeks, I was a little more in shape. Apparently, all my walking had done some good - the trip took only nine minutes!

To be fair, either of my kids who live in town, as well as my wife, would have given me a ride - if I had asked. And in reality, they did run me around quite a bit. But they are busy so I tried not to ask. Besides, at forty-five years of age, I would’ve thought I was done asking for rides.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Stupid Drivers

Here’s a little known fact about me - I don’t always root for the so-called “right” side to win. Okay, I usually don’t root for the right side and it’s probably well-known, particularly when the situation involves stupid people.

Last week, I was making my last run of the week in my semi. The time was around 2:00 in the morning. Not a lot of traffic is on the road at that time and its normally peaceful - the most uneventful part of my run. Not this night.

I was approaching another semi-truck and I moved over to the left lane to pass. As I pulled even with the truck, in my mirror, I saw the headlights of a car, and it was gaining fast. I continued passing the truck, which took a minute or two. By this time, the car was riding my bumper. The driver, apparently anxious to get around, began flashing his lights back and forth from bright to dim. Not being able to speed up, even if I had wanted to, I waited patiently for the truck driver to flash his lights, signaling that I had cleared him, and then I moved back into the right lane. Once my trailer was out of the left lane, the driver of the car sped up, quickly passing me. I figured with the hurry he was in he’d soon be out of sight. Then, his stupidity gene kicked in.

Instead of going on down the road as a normal person would do, the guy thought it’d be a good idea to play chicken with a semi at 60 mph! He pulled to the center of the freeway so his car blocked both lanes, and hit the brakes - hard. Now, this happens quite a bit to truck drivers and so I was prepared for it. I hit the brakes and the Jake came on slowing me down. Generally, once a stupid driver has made their point that I’ve slowed them down, they speed up again and that’s the end of it. Not this guy. He slowed down even more, still riding the centerline.

Rather than hit him, or play dangerous games on the freeway, (a game that I can easily win, but then lose my job) I kept slowing down. Our speed was now about 30 mph.

The guy in the semi behind me had seen what was going on and being an independent driver must have had no worries about losing his job. And, as he later said on the CB, he really didn’t like stupid people. He pulled to the left lane and accelerated, passing me and continuing on toward the car. Apparently, the guy in the car was too busy watching me because he didn’t move as the truck raced toward him. The road we were on had only about a one-foot shoulder on the left side and when I discovered the truck driver had no intention of slowing down and nowhere to go, I started backing off as fast as I could, waiting for the crash.

The car swerved suddenly to the right and at first I thought the truck had hit it, but I saw no flying pieces of plastic and metal. I realized the driver had jerked the wheel. Evidently, he’d finally seen the big truck bearing down on him. Then, I had another worry, as it appeared the car was going to flip right in front of me. It made several swerves but somehow the driver managed to get it under control. I pulled to the left lane and passed the now very slowly moving car. The other semi was well down the road. A minute or so later, the car speeded up and passed both of us, disappearing into the night.

This story has a good ending; no one got hurt or killed, no one was involved in a wreck, and no one (namely me) got fired. But for a few tense moments, the possibility of all the above was present.

The ordeal had lasted only a minute or so and as I watched the scene play out in slow motion, I had one clear thought. Although I knew what would happen if there were a crash, and knew the truck driver would be at fault in any altercation, I was still rooting for the truck. I don’t really like stupid drivers either!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

A Wandering Mind

As a truck driver, I have a lot of time to think. Sometimes my thinking is productive, other times not so much. Sometimes I end up wasting a lot of time just thinking in circles. Okay, a lot of the time I do that. I’ll give you a little glimpse at a typical train of thought, which I’ll call the thoughts of a wondering mind, or wandering mind. This meandering of thought takes place in the form of questions and reasoning away those questions with sound answers - maybe. Ready?

When we’re looking for a parking space why do we say we’re circling or going around the block? Blocks are not round. And why is it called a “round” of applause? Handclapping doesn’t form a geometrical shape. And that’s another thing, why is someone whose body has good form said to be “in shape?” We don’t specify what shape, so it could be any shape. I think a body is in the shape of, well, a body. Whether that body is physically fit shouldn’t matter. Unless of course, someone throws a fit over it. But that doesn’t really make sense either; one does not have to actually throw something to have a temper tantrum. I do know when babies engage in this sort of behavior we sometimes let them sleep it off. But was it ever “on” them in the first place?

Speaking of sleep, why do we say we “fall” asleep? Unless we collapse from sheer exhaustion, we don’t fall anywhere. It seems to me the only purpose of saying we fall asleep is to justify the expression of waking up. Because, while we may “wake up,” we may not necessarily “get up.” That would then mean we were still lying in bed. Then, that begs the question of why do we say we “lie” in bed? It makes it sound as though we can’t tell the truth unless we are standing up. Is that why we say, “he’s a stand-up guy,” if he is an honest man? And if that is the case, then why do judges “sit” on the bench. And why is it called a bench when it more closely resembles a desk and the judge is clearly seated in a chair? Shouldn’t we instead refer to him as a chairman? Although, unless the chair is permanently attached, he would not really be a chair-man, just a regular man.

But wait, if there are “regular” men does that mean there are unleaded men as well? And what about diesel men? I guess those would probably be called truck drivers. You know, guys like me with a lot of time for useless thought. And then, being lost in thought we miss our turn and have to circle the block.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

The Broken Window

Has anyone besides me ever gotten into trouble for something you didn’t do? Probably. But for me, it seemed to be a habit because it happened a lot - still does from time to time. Just recently, I was blamed for tearing a hose off the fuel pump at my job - until they actually looked at the surveillance camera footage and saw it wasn’t me. (Would have been nice if they had checked that first). When I was a kid it wasn’t always that easy to prove my innocence but usually, I did find a way to get out of things without suffering any ill consequences, as in the following story.

I was nine or ten years old at the time. An apartment building was being built across the alley from my house. A neighbor friend of mine and I loved to ride our bikes in the piles of dirt. One day, when we’d stopped for a rest, I picked up a dirt clod and threw it through one of the open windows. No glass had been installed yet and we didn’t see any harm in tossing a few more dirt clods through the window hole. A little more dirt on the dirt floor inside couldn’t hurt anything.

We soon grew tired of throwing dirt and went back to riding our bikes. That might have been the end of it except some other kids had seen us and decided throwing dirt clods looked like fun. For the next few days the other kids took it upon themselves to move as much dirt from outside the apartments to the inside, one dirt clod at a time. Then one day, when we all got home from school, the windows had been installed. Of course that fact didn’t at all deter the neighboring kids from their fun and it wasn’t long before one of the windowpanes was broken.

Before the shattered glass had settled to the ground all of the other kids were long gone. My friend and I had done nothing wrong and so we stayed. The next day after school, we again went to ride our bikes on the mounds of dirt. And then suddenly, there were four or five men who appeared out of nowhere - and they were mad! One of them, evidently the boss, was yelling and cussing at us, asking us why we’d broken out the window. It did no good to tell him we weren’t the ones responsible, he didn’t care what we had to say. He’d talked to someone across the street and they told him we rode our bikes there everyday. We were going to have to pay for the window, he said. Then he added, that he wouldn’t call the police if we’d tell him where we lived.

I may have been only a kid but I was no fool. Remember I said getting in trouble for things I hadn’t done was sort of a habit of mine? Well, that habit had taught me at least one thing and I knew better than to tell the guy where I lived. He wanted to talk to my parents, and that wasn’t going to happen - not if I could help it! But neither did I want to lie to the man. So, my friend and I just took off riding as fast as we could - away from the construction site and in the opposite direction from our houses.

Returning home an hour or so later, we half expected to be greeted by a cop car - but there were none. Neither of our parents mentioned it so apparently, the guy hadn’t figured out where we lived. In a few weeks the apartments were finished and we never saw the man again. For once, I had won! I wasn’t sure exactly what I had won since I hadn’t been guilty in the first place, but it was nice to feel as if I’d gotten away with something.

The whole reason I’m telling this story is that I was reminded of it the other day while driving past those apartments. I was slightly amused to see that a window was broken. The same window. Great, I thought, as my smile faded and I quickly drove away. I wonder if I’m going to be blamed for this?

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Dog Food

For the past year and a half, I’ve tried to stay away from politics on this blog. A remarkable feat, I might add, since I am very passionate on my political views. But, I figure everyone is bombarded with politics everywhere else so I choose other things to write about. However, to remain undetached from the current issue is proving too difficult. I have to say something. No, this isn’t going to turn into a political blog. Next week, I’ll return to one of my usual topics. For now, indulge me in the following.

So, Obama wants to usurp the authority of the U.S. Constitution and take away guns? And New York is presently in the process of attempting to nullify the 2^nd Amendment rights of the citizens there? And Congress is considering several bills, which would drastically infringe on all American’s right to keep and bear arms? “Dog food,” is what I say.

These demented politicians above are not alone. There’s Biden, Feinstein, Pelosi, various other congressmen and senators, state legislators, and then the public figures. The list is really quite long of morons who have no regard for the Constitution. The gun-grabbers seem to think now is the time; outlaw guns, and/or confiscate them and imprison offenders. Never mind the words of the 2^nd Amendment. “Shall not be infringed,” apparently has no meaning to these traitors to our country. By hook or by crook, they seek to relieve all of us of our arms. Again, I say, “Dog food!”

The anti-gun crowd, who want to disarm America, is not limited to solely to our country either. China has called for the complete disarmament of US citizens, and the U.N. is still actively pursuing its worldwide ban on firearms. Question - Since when does anyone in any other country have a say in our laws or our Constitutional rights? They don’t. But that fact seems to be not a matter of importance. The whole world is caught up in a frenzy; thinking, at last, they have an opportunity to rid us of firearms. I repeat, “Dog food.”

No doubt, I have some readers, if not all of you, thoroughly confused at this point, wondering just what dog food has to do with the discussion. Maybe this will help.

Message to Obama, lawmakers everywhere, the U.N., China, celebrities, and the world at large: Want my gun? Dog food. Alpo dog food. Specifically, “Come And Get It.”

Molon Labe.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Climbing The Ladder Of Success

As I’ve written on a couple occasions in this blog, my son recently went to Lineman College to be a climber and now works as a tower tech climbing steel towers, poles, and other structures. Basically, anything that has to do with electricity and sticks up into the air, he climbs it. I should have known he’d be in that line of work long ago - when he was only a year old.

One summer, both of my daughters were visiting my parents for three weeks and most days my wife worked well into the evening. That left me at home with my son in the afternoon. I needed to paint the house and not being the patient type, I didn’t want to wait until the weekend. My son was a year old but not yet walking and figuring he couldn’t crawl too far, I spread a quilt on the grass, piling a few toys around him. Then, I got out the paint and a brush.

The upper level on our two-story house was set back with the roof of the lower level extending out. This made it nice for painting the wall of the second story - after I’d set a ladder in place and climbed the ten feet to the roof. I painted for fifteen or twenty minutes, stopping every minute or so to check on him. Everything was fine, and then...

The next time I turned around to look, I didn’t see him on the quilt. He was nowhere in the yard either. Dropping the brush on the roof, I quickly made it to the ladder. Ready to climb down and start a search; a manhunt, or babyhunt as it were, I saw him - halfway up the ladder and still struggling to climb.

Not wanting to startle him, or take a chance of knocking him off the ladder, I did what any slightly crazed parent would do - I jumped. I wasn’t nearly as old as I am now so the jump, or rather the landing, didn’t hurt me any. In about two seconds, I was on the ground, ready to catch him if he fell while I climbed up the ladder to reach him. It all ended well, except for me. I think my son’s first experience with climbing took a few years off his Dad’s life!

Over the next few years, the kid continued to climb - just about anything, seemingly not afraid of heights at all. As I’m sure he would point out, it’s really not the height or even the fall that will get you - it’s what comes next. Not that he has much to worry about, he’s had lots of experience; been climbing since he was a baby - literally!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

The Fine Art Of Plagiarism

I should preface this blog with a disclaimer. As a writer, I’m not a fan of plagiarism. I don’t want other people plagiarizing my work and neither do I wish to plagiarize another author. In fact, I’m quite certain that plagiarism is ultimately more work than coming up with something new and the results are usually not favorable. There is really no art to plagiarism, except if you happen to be a cynical kid in school and not afraid to risk getting into trouble. That’s where my story comes in.

I was in the fifth grade and given a writing assignment - an open writing assignment. I could write about any subject I chose as long as it was original and at least 500 words. We’d just discussed plagiarism in class and due to my devious nature I decided to show off what I’d learned - in my own satirical way.

I began the short essay with a definition of plagiarism (that the teacher had given us) and stressed that it was never a good idea, for a variety of reasons, which I listed. These reasons had also been given to us by the teacher. Then, I moved on to citing some examples. I copied, word for word, a lengthy paragraph from the encyclopedia and commented that to use the paragraph, claiming it as my own, would be a classic case of plagiarism. Furthermore, I pointed out that even to rearrange the words and sentences and then present them in the new order (which I did) would still qualify as plagiarizing another author. In both examples I was careful to point out that I hadn’t written the material.

I then re-wrote the paragraph in my own words and stated that this would be an acceptable method of research and reporting. Ending the paper with a recap of the dangers, pitfalls, and possible consequences of plagiarism, I said such a practice was never okay and should be avoided by all writers.

Out of over 500 words, I’d written no more than a handful of my own. I turned in the paper - and much to my surprise, got an A! Either my teacher was really dense and missed the fact that I hadn’t included much original content at all, or she’d seen the irony of what I’d done. Or perhaps she was glad to see I’d been paying attention. Maybe she appreciated all the thought and hard work that I’d put in to make my point. It did take a lot of work - and time. It would have definitely been easier, and faster, to just write about something else. But, it’s hard to argue with a good grade!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.

See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Happy New Year

It’s that time of year again, when everybody makes their predictions for the coming year. Everything from sane and rational expectations to outlandish foretellings and dire warnings of things that will never come true. For instance, I read the other day that 2013 will be the year aliens land on the Earth and we will discover life on Mars. Yeah, right!

The good news is, I won’t look too peculiar making a few predictions of my own. Keep in mind that I do not have a crystal ball and wouldn’t know what to do with one if I did. Okay, here goes.

I predict 2013 will have 365 days (Approximately - the time discrepancy which necessitates the occurrence of leap year not withstanding).

I also predict the weather across the country will be generally cooler at the beginning of the year, followed by a warming trend throughout the summer months - even downright hot in some areas. Then, with fall, temperatures will moderate, eventually turning colder toward the end of the year. And then I predict some moron will blame the variation in weather on global climate change.

I further predict 2013 will see politicians spending more money they don’t have, blaming each other and then trying to figure out ways to have the rest of us pay for their stupidity and insatiable desire to spend.

And I predict that when 2013 is over, 2014 will be ushered in - like clockwork.

Hey, this predicting thing seems pretty easy! I could go on, but I’m fairly sure nobody wants me to. So, I’ll end this blog with one final prediction; next year, about this time, there’ll be a whole lot more of the crazies coming out with their predictions - not at all dissuaded by the fact that none of their previous “enlightened” prophetic statements came about. Except me - I think I have a pretty good shot at all of mine coming true!

Happy New Year!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.

See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Christmas

 I’ve never been a big fan of Christmas. Sure, when I was a kid I loved to get presents, eat tons of candy, and get a week or two off from school, but also associated with Christmas was winter; cold temperatures and snow. Even as a kid I didn’t like snow. As I got older, I discovered another reason I didn’t care for Christmas - the money it cost. To get everyone something that is actually nice takes an enormous amount of money. Despite what my kids may think, I’ve never been made of money, so Christmas always left me with a feeling that I wished I could do more.

Yet, as I look back over my forty-five Christmases to date, it seems the ones when we had the least amount of money turned out to be the most memorable. What sticks out in my mind are the other things, family coming to visit, Christmas plays and programs, time of doing things with other people, and even though I detest snow, sledding, skiing, and building snowmen. Apparently, money isn’t as big an issue as it seems to be at the time.

So, maybe I need to take a new approach to Christmas. Enjoy the holiday, enjoy the food, and enjoy watching my grandkids as they excitedly open their gifts. And with my two days off from work, I can relax inside where its warm, not have to bother with driving on bad roads, chaining up - and then unchaining my truck. Hey, a few more days like that and I may just become a fan of Christmas after all!

Merry Christmas!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. Now also available in print at many online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

The Climber

When I was a kid, someone left a pair of power pole climbers in our garage- metal spikes that fit around your boot and dig into the wooden pole as you step. Ever the adventurous type, of course, I had to try them out. I strapped them on as best I could - my feet were not nearly big enough for them to fit properly - and set out for the pole at the back of our house. Not having a belt, and not knowing a belt was supposed to be used, I struggled to get the hang of climbing the pole. Eventually, I managed to get about halfway up the thirty-five foot pole before my arms gave out and I quickly descended.

I practiced quite a lot, and in a few days I got to where I could make it to the bottom of the cross arm. I didn’t want anything to do with the high voltage power lines and didn’t try to go any further. I still had no clue I was supposed to be using more equipment, and I thought the guys who did this climbing thing for a living must be really strong. I decided I needed more practice.

Since I wasn’t actually doing anything, climbing the pole every day was rather pointless, but it was fun - that is until the guy from the power company saw me. He nearly wrecked his truck in an effort to get me to come down. Then, he threatened to take away my climbers and said he’d call the police the next time he caught me. Apparently, he thought I was either going to fall or get electrocuted. After that, I only climbed on the weekends or later in the day when the power company guys were not working. But, as is usually the case with kids’ short attention spans, I soon forgot about climbing power poles.

And then, years later, my son decided he’d like to climb power poles. Except he approached the idea with a little more thought and planning - he went to school to learn how. For the past several months, he’s attended Northwest Lineman College.

This past week, we attended his graduation. But before the ceremony, the soon to be graduates put on a show for all of us, a lineman rodeo. And at last, I got to see the right way to climb a pole. They made it look easy! And, having the proper equipment, it probably is a lot easier than the way I tried it. I’ll probably never know. Although my son would probably give me pointers and show me how, and maybe even lend me his climbers, I think I’m too old and out of shape to even attempt such a thing.

So instead, I just bought a tee-shirt. Hey, it says I’m a climber, and no one will ever know I’m really not - aside from those who read this blog. Unfortunately, that number could be a lot since I just posted it on the Internet.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Old Adages Can Be Wrong

I’ve always had a hard time accepting the so-called wisdom of adages, those short little sayings that are supposed to hold great pieces of good advice. To my way of thinking, adages are only there to see if I can prove them wrong. A few examples:

A watched pot never boils. Not true. I’ve tested the theory myself. Back when I first heard this one, I knew it couldn’t be true. The laws of physics don’t have an exclusion clause written into them that says I actually have to watch or they won’t work. Yet, for some reason, I had to prove it – if only to myself.

Being too little to reach the stove – or the sink – I scooted a dining room chair into the kitchen to make myself taller. After retrieving a pot, I filled it partway with water, set it on the stove, and turned on the burner. Then I stood by on my chair – watching. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the water was boiling rapidly. So much for the old adage.

A stitch in time saves nine. Really? How can anyone ever be sure? A stitch in time may save an unknown amount of stitches later but can we really put a definite number on it? And it may not save any at all. What if the stitch is done in a hurry? Ten or more may then be required to fix things. In that case, a stitch in time saved absolutely nothing.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Not if you have a shotgun in the other hand. I’d say a shotgun in the hand is worth an awful lot of birds in the bush – or the hand for that matter.

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Okay, in the first place, no one I’ve ever heard of wanted to catch flies. What most people want to do is get rid of the flies – kill them. And a flyswatter does a much better job of that than either vinegar or honey.

Never judge a book by its cover. There is a billion dollar industry that constantly disproves this. Everyone’s heard the saying and still, everybody does it.

There are many more I could use to illustrate my point but I think you get the picture. The fact is I like to argue, to challenge conventional wisdom. I don’t feel complete unless I question things. Perhaps being obstinate is just in my blood.

However, my argumentative nature does have its drawback now and then. Back to my little test, where I left off with me standing on the chair. After the water came to a rolling boil, I was satisfied; too busy enjoying my moment to pay attention to anything else. I jumped down, leaving the chair where it sat and leaving the pot of water on the stove. And being a kid, I didn’t turn off the burner either. You can guess what happened next – and yes, I did get into a little trouble. But it was worth it. It all led me to come up with a little saying of my own – an adage, I guess. “An unwatched pot will boil over.”

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Toast For Sale

I’ve never been much of a salesman. Probably because I don’t want to bother people anymore than I want to be bothered myself. I just figure no one needs me to tell them what they want to buy. But that wasn’t always the case.

When I was about six years old, I used to come home from school every day and make myself a couple of pieces of toast. I’d spread the toast with lots of margarine (not butter, I happen to think margarine tastes better) and top it off with a thick layer of my Mother’s homemade strawberry jam. Then, I’d go stand on our front porch and try to sell the toast (as I was eating it) to passing motorists. I’d yell at the top of my lungs, “Toast for sale! Toast with strawberry jam – just twenty-five cents a slice!”

We lived on a busy street and in the few minutes it took me to consume my two slices of toast, I offered my sales pitch numerous times – enough to make myself a little hoarse on occasion. But I had to yell loud otherwise people inside their cars wouldn’t have been able to hear me. Every once in a while, I’d get lucky and catch someone walking by and I could say my spiel in an almost normal voice.

I did this for quite a while. We lived in that house for about three years, and most days I was outside at some point trying to sell my toast. That’s a lot of sales pitches. Yet, in all that time, I never sold a single slice of toast. Amazing, I know. Imagine – no one wanting to buy homemade toast from a six-year-old, grimy kid. The only thing I managed to do was get an awful lot of strange looks from people. A few of them even yelled back, but I could never hear what they had to say – maybe because I was still loudly blabbing away myself.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of selling toast. As it turns out, homemade toast is not really a big seller. Although…

Years later, I tried to convince my kids one day, that they had to pay me for the toast they’d made. “Twenty-five cents a slice,” I said.

It didn’t work. Guess I’m still not much of a salesman.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Not Quite Expired

I tend to keep things well past their expiration date. I’m not talking food, but objects, inanimate objects. Long after most people would consider the item useless and toss it in the trash, I hold on to it. For instance, my boots have major holes in them, as do my work gloves, jeans, and even some of my shirts. My hat is dilapidated and badly deformed. But, all these things still work so I keep them. To some people, I’m a frugal cheapskate. I prefer to think of it as getting my money’s worth. Prices are high, things are expensive, and I can’t justify spending more money until the item in question is completely worn out. This extends to bigger items as well. My last pickup, I had for over 17 years. And tires? I run those until there is no tread. And by no tread, I mean the tires would qualify for racing slicks.

Besides all this, I’m a bit sentimental; I don’t like to part with anything that I’ve decided has any amount of sentimental value, especially when that something has to do with my children. So, it came as a shock, even to me, when I actually threw away a wooden sink/stove - with cabinets play set that my girls had. It had been through a lot, was falling apart, the boards warped and busted. I’d pieced it back together several times but finally, I decided it was too far gone to save.

I disassembled the broken toy and carried it out to the burning barrel. But then, looking out the window, something wouldn’t let me go through with destroying it. Retrieving the pieces and laying them in the garage, I made a quick trip to the lumberyard. After spending a few dollars, I returned home, armed with my new boards. A couple of days later, I’d rebuilt the sink/stove.

My wife thought I’d really lost it. “Just throw it away,” she said. But she didn’t see the look in both of my daughter’s eyes when I presented the refurbished play set!

That was over fifteen years ago and sadly, the play set again fell into disrepair – a casualty of many hours of play. But, this time, in keeping with my personal tradition of keeping things long past their expiration date, I didn’t throw it away. Instead, I stored all the boards in the shed out back. And it just may be time to make another trip to the lumberyard. My grandkids might like to play with it!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Dogs Versus Cats

I’m a dog person. Or, rather, I am a person who likes dogs, not some sort of cross breed of the two. Being that humans and canines are completely different species, that would be most unusual. My point is I am fond of dogs, not cats. And I think both of them can tell my preference because dogs seem to gravitate to me, while cats tend to slink away. I have a lot of reasons for my partiality to dogs, as I’m sure all you people who prefer cats do. If you are one of the strange sort who like cats, that’s okay. I won’t try to change your mind; I just have a story to tell.

Several years ago, my dad and I went exploring one day in the middle of Wyoming. We were miles away from civilization and hoping to find something of interest. And we did.

Walking on a high plateau, with a huge cliff in front of us, the scenery was breathtaking. Wanting to get a better view of the valley below, I moved forward and peered over the edge of the cliff. And there, not six feet down the wall, on a small rock outcropping, sat a cougar, or mountain lion if you prefer.

Not being a fan of cats in general, and particularly not ones big enough to kill me, I wasn’t impressed. Since the only gun I had with me was a .22 pistol, I did the most prudent thing I could think of and slowly backed away, half expecting the startled cougar to bound over the rock rim and come after me. To my relief it stayed put. Like I said earlier, cats tend to move away from me. Apparently, it didn’t like me any more than I liked it, which was not much. Not that I would have enjoyed the prospect of seeing a wild dog (wolf) in the same situation.

Fast-forward a few years. My job of driving truck consists of hauling garbage to the high dessert to a landfill – at night. As you can imagine, it’s not all that unusual to see cougars there scrounging for food, especially in the dry years. One night, just as I pulled the air brakes on, I saw one – a big one. It was standing about twenty feet in front of my truck seemingly unafraid of the sound of the engine, or the horn, I found.

I wasn’t about to get out as long as the cat was there – once again, I didn’t have a gun to shoot it. Thinking I might be there a while, I prepared to sit back and wait, watching it as it stared back at me. Then, for some unknown reason, the big cat suddenly sprang off to the left, disappearing across the field. Something had spooked it, that was obvious. I didn’t know what though, until I opened the door and got out. And then I heard them – a pack of coyotes yapping. From the sound of it, they were very close and getting closer. Now I knew why the cat had been scared away – the coyotes, members of the dog family, had come to my rescue! See? As I said, dogs gravitate to me and cats slink away. Just the way it ought to be, I think. After all, I’m a dog person.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

To Do List

I make lists. To do lists. Partly because I can’t ever seem to remember everything that needs done and partly just to experience the satisfaction of crossing things off when I complete them.

Every week, I have twenty or more pressing things to do, and I put them on the list as I think of them – usually at night when I’m driving and have nothing better to do than think. The next day, I get done what I can, cross those items off the list and then go to work. And add more things to the list, quite often more than I crossed off. It’s a continuous cycle that has been ongoing for the last twenty plus years. On weekends, at the expense of sleep, I try to get everything caught up; cross everything off the list. Try, but it never works. I haven’t had an empty list (if there is such a thing) since - well, ever. The more I do, the more there is to be done.

I’ve been told my problem is I have too many aspirations, that I really should just relax, not make a list, and not try to do anything. My question is, what exactly would that accomplish? Nothing. I have only so many days until I die. I sincerely hope I have my list done before that happens. But, if the last twenty years are any indication, I probably won’t. And that presents quite a problem – how will I ever be able to rest in peace, knowing my list isn’t done?

Until recently, it seemed the only way around the dilemma was just not to die. I’m pretty sure that’s not a viable option. Obviously, I’m not going to live forever - although so far, it’s working quite well. But, back to my conundrum, I think I have found a solution. It’s simple really. If I can manage for my body to outlive my brain, I’ll never be able to think of anything to add to my list. No list – voilà, problem solved. After reading this blog, some will no doubt insist that my brain is already going so I should have nothing to worry about. I would love to argue the point but I don’t have time. The weekend is here and I have a long list of things to do.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

How Much Am I Making?

Never agree to do a job without knowing how much you’ll be paid - a good principle to live by that I learned the hard way.

I’m not sure how old we were but when my brother and I were in grade school, the lady who lived a block away on the corner hired us to clean up her yard. No big deal – we thought. It was a small yard. “I’ll pay you,” she said.

So, on Saturday morning, eager to earn some money, we reported for duty. The lady had everything ready - rakes, shovels, trash bags, and a wheelbarrow. After she untied her dog and put it in the house, we set to work, figuring we’d be done in an hour or two.

Not quite.

What the lady had failed to tell us was just how bad the yard was. Aside from the normal yard debris of twigs and leaves, there was garbage – as in household garbage. Apparently, her yard doubled as her own private city dump! It smelled horrible. And, as you can imagine, keeping a dog tied in the yard didn’t help matters either. Neither did the multiple cats. Then to add a little more to the mix, a fruit tree (apple, I think) had dropped its fruit on the ground for who knows how long. It all added up to a gooey, slimy, and very smelly mess, anywhere from six inches to a foot deep.

By noon, we were barely half done. Taking a short break, we went home to eat lunch. But, I don’t think either one of us were that hungry. Afterward, we returned for more “fun.” Late that afternoon, we finally finished. All the slime and scum had been shoveled, raked, and carted away; the yard cleaned down to the bare ground. We cleaned up the tools and then knocked on the woman’s door.

She came outside to have a look and was very impressed. And appreciative; thanking us profusely and telling us what a nice job we’d done. And then, she remembered she’d promised to pay us. “Wait just a minute,” she told us, disappearing into the house.

Soon she returned with our pay, handing each of us a quarter. Yep, one quarter. Twenty-five cents for eight hours of work! And not the most pleasant of jobs.

And that’s how I learned to establish wages before agreeing to do the job. I learned something else that day too. Never clean up someone else’s mess!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders