POWIP Piece of Work In Progress – Former Abode of Dan Collins

Just call me POTUS….over promise…under produce.

Perhaps "one new thing everyday" was a bit of a stretch...I guess you can't turn the whole leaf over all at once. :)

I did, however, promise Falahime a story about my dad....so here it is:

THE GREAT MAILBOX MASSACRE

Picture it...the Summer of 1988, Augusta, Georgia. Teh Father and Teh Mother buy a new house. Prior to the purchase of said house they had been living in an apartment which was nowhere near big enough to hold stuff from 24 years of marriage and travel and whatnot. So, most of their stuff was in storage. Teh Father was still U.S. Army active duty so the Army paid to store their stuff up to a certain point. Important thing to remember......what Teh Parents owed on their own was $149.76.

A couple of days before their stuff was to be delivered, Teh Father built and painted a post for his bright, shiny, new mailbox. He dug a hole for said post and while he was filling it full of cement, Teh Mother leaned over his shoulder and said "honey, do you think you have enough cement in that hole?" Teh Father smiled his "I'm going to humor you because I have to live with you" smile and said "yes dear....it would take a truck to knock this post over." Teh Mother smiled her "aren't you a cute man" smile and walked back into the house.

Delivery day arrives and Teh Mother is standing in the living room looking out the front window waiting for the truck and Teh Father is in the kitchen making himself some lunch. There was the sound of squealing brakes and a loud cracking noise and then Teh Mother said "you were right honey, it WOULD take a truck to knock that post over."

Teh Father goes out the front door to find his post broken and his mailbox in the street, mangled from having been run over. The truck driver looked at Teh Father and said "I can fix your mailbox Mr. Taylor". Teh Father said "no, you can't...now get in the truck and wait there. I'm going to call your boss". Now Teh Father was a Sgt. Major in the United States Army and was used to saying things and them just getting done exactly the way he said them.

But the truck driver wasn't in the Army and therefore didn't understand the mind of a Sgt. Major. So, instead of just getting in the truck, he followed Teh Father across the front yard saying over and over again "I can fix your mailbox Mr. Taylor, I can fix your mailbox." After the third time telling the driver to just get back in the truck and having the guy follow him onto the FRONT PORCH, Teh Father turned to him (and to this day I'm still surprised Teh Father didn't punch that guy off his porch) and said "if you say that one more time, I'm not only going to call your boss, I'm going to call the law.....Now, GET. IN. THE. TRUCK!". The driver looked at Teh Father for a full minute and then........."but I can fix your mailbox Mr. Taylor." (just to give you an idea of the mailbox the guy wanted to "fix" --it looked like it had been in a fire it was so twisted.)

Teh Father went into the house and called the storage place and the Columbia County Police. (it was 1988, phones that fit in your pocket will still a Star Trek dream). The police made us all feel very safe in our new neighborhood (no sarcasm) by sending FIVE sheriff's deputies to our house for a dead mailbox.

The law got there first and breathalyzed the driver...he was drunk (who knew?) and he didn't have a driver's license AND when they ran his name for Wants and Warrants......5 states had warrants for his arrest. The deputy wouldn't tell us for what...but 5 is a lot for one guy. They took him away in handcuffs (Teh Father vindicated) and then the storage place boss showed up. Teh Father explained the situation as the guy held the mangled, dead, mailbox in his hands and not wanting to lose his lucrative government contract said, "so, how much do you reckon a mailbox like this costs Mr. Taylor?" Teh Father smiled his "you'll do it my way if you want to live" smile and said "One hundred, forty nine dollars and seventy six cents." The storage boss agreed.

Fast Forward one week. Teh Father has cleared out the debris from the murder of his mailbox and post, bought a new mailbox, built and painted and new post, and dug a new hole. As he was filling said hole with cement, Teh Mother looked over his shoulder and said "honey do you think you have enough cement in that hole?" Teh Father smiled his "for better or worse, for better or worse, for better or worse" smile and said, "yes dear, it would take a train to knock this post over."

That was 22 years ago and we are still waiting for a train to come and prove Teh Father right.

Dede

Sometimes stuff rumbles around in my brain that's longer than 140 characters and, well......twitlonger just seems like cheating. :)

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