Humor-The Dark Side

This story is about Jim and Ronnie. Some people might not see the humor in this story, but I think most Boshears will, especially those who knew Jim well. If you knew him, no explanation is necessary. If you didn’t, no explanation is possible.

When Ronnie died in 1995 he was cremated with the intention that his ashes would be buried with me when I died.

A little history before I tell the story. Ronnie and Jim loved each other, but their temperaments were always clashing.  Ronnie was always borrowing Jim’s tools when he needed to work on a car. Jim was always misplacing his tools and if he didn’t find them in the first place he expected them to be, the first thing out of his mouth was always ”@&$% somebody stold my #@%$ wrench!!” Actually that was true of anything he put somewhere, from misplacing his sunglasses to the TV remote. He never put it where it belonged. Every flat surface in our house was fair game for any of his stuff and that’s where he wanted it left.

A couple of years after Ronnie died some of the other kids and their families were over visiting one weekend. I was in the living room watching TV and Jim and the guys were outside working on a car. The timing was off and Jim couldn’t find his timing light. Jim was not what you’d call ”the quiet type” so I could hear him even in the living room, but I didn’t know what it was about. The usual barrage of cuss words came first. 

Morton came in after a little bit, laughing, and told me that Jim couldn’t find his light and since, according to him, Ronnie’s first diagnosis of any engine problem was the timing, he was sure that Ronnie had taken it and never brought it back and he wished he was there so he could kick his ass.

I calmly got up, went into my bedroom and got Ronnie’s box. I gave him to Morton and told him to take him to Jim and tell him to drop-kick him across the street if it would make him feel any better.

He did and then I could hear the cussing commence again. He brought Ronnie back in and told me Jim said I could kiss his ass. ROFL Shortly afterwards he found his timing light….

Dreams

I’ve love you guys.

A Word to the Wise?

It seems, through no fault of my own,  I was born into a family of dain bramaged people. First my sibs, now my nieces, nephews, cousins and it seems even my friends suffer from this malady. Evidently I am the only sane one.

Usually those with the sickest minds create the most devious plots. Howsomever, be forewarned. You won’t know how. You won’t know where. You won’t know when. But the infinite payback will happen.

I can’t keep it a secret any longer

I know that many of you are concerned about my not having a man in my life. I know that when David was gone last week you all joked about me having a man over and that’s why I didn’t answer the phone. Then on the phone message Karo said “Hey Mr. could you wake my sister up and put her on the phone?”

Of course there was no man in my room to do that. But that is not to say I was alone. It’s time you knew. Beverly and I are in love. She makes me feel like a real woman. I have never been so happy in my life. She does things to me that no man ever has and I love it.

You see, I’ve known Bev for almost thirty years. She and I were an item before I met Jim. Secretly of course.

But, I realized that my kids needed a male roll model in their lives. So I made the dicision to give Bev up.

I never regreted that decision. It was the right one for my family.

 But then Jim died and David and I moved to Las Vegas. When when we moved back from Las Vegas to Dallas, I started thinking of her all the time again. Finally I decided to see if I could find her and I did. She had been missing me all these years, as I had her. We’ve found each other again and we couldn’t be happier and I hope you guys can be happy for us too.

I’m glad I finally got that off my chest. I hope you all won’t think less of me for it.

The Boshittiest

Be the Best That You Can Be

I know that’s the Army’s slogan and Ed was a career Marine, but it fits better and this story is about him.

I was about twelve years old and Benny had just died. Ed had been in the Navy, but he got a hardship discharge to come home and help Mom.

Ed was always very much a perfectionist and it seemed the military fit him to a T. When he got home he took it upon himself to get his sibs into shape. He had a schedule for everything: get up at 5:00 am, bathe and have teeth brushed by 5:30, have room clean by 6:00, be dressed and have breakfast by 7:00. The whole nine yards. LOL

One afternoon, I was sitting at the dining room table doing my homework. For English we had to copy, exactly, the twenty sentences on the blackboard. Each sentence had within it (in parens) a choice of three verb tenses to use. Our instructions were to cross out the two incorrect ones, leaving the correct one.

I was about two-thirds of the way finished when Ed came into the dining room. He stopped to see what I was doing and immediately went into his drill sargeant mode.

“You are a BOSHEAR!!! You should NOT make mistakes!!! But if you do….you WILL NOT cross it out!!!!….you WILL NOT erase it!!!!….you WILL rewrite the entire thing!!!!!

I tried to explain that this was what we were supposed to do, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. So I did as I was told and rewrote the entire assignment.

Of course later that night in my room I pulled out my original copy and finished it the way the teacher wanted it done.

God love him…….LOL

New Acronym

I just LA………OOOOOVE my siblings. They are such warm, wonderful, caring people. Ya see, we decided to do this thing we’ve dubbed PU (phone reunion) every Sunday morning. Once, years ago, Karo had referred to our normal family reunions as FUs and Mom got all over her because she thought Karo meant something else. So from that time on, of course, our family reunions were referred to as FUs.

This was the second week for it. Last Sunday they called me around 10 am or so and we had a great time. I don’t get off work and home until around eightish and I usually go to bed about ten, but I was happy, HAPPY I SAY, to stay awake another couple of two or three hours and gab and stab with them. The only one of us who wasn’t on the line was Betty. We tried several times to call her to no avail. We decided to do this every Sunday around the same time. Later on that night, as I was reading email, I learn that apparently after I hung up they did get hold of Betty and they continued to have the PU without me. I was torn assunder, but said nothing, figuring they knew I had to get some sleep. They love me, right? In an email Betty had written that she would la……ooooove to do this also, but she, being the good child, goes to church each Sunday and can’t possibly participate earlier than 1 pm. I read on that “we’ve”agreed to that time. Betty and I are in the same time zone so that is six hours after I get off work and so it’s gonna be more than likely nine hours before I can get to bed, but I say to myself, OK self, you can do this…… for the la…..ooooove of your family.

This morning I get home, I mess around on the computer my usual couple of hours, reading email and such. 10 o’clock rolls around. My body starts saying it’s time for bed. But I say “No, I can do this….. for the la….ooooove of the family. I sit there awhile longer, and I start nodding off, kinda like Jerry when he’s playing Shanghai. I realize I can’t possibly stay awake for another three hours, so I, being the nice person that I am, write an email to them saying I had to go to bed, and I go ahead and apologize should I fail to hear the phone later. I take my Tylonol PM and my Melatonin and in no time I’m out.

Three hours later, when I am in the perfect sleep zone, about fifteen minutes past the aforesaid agreed upon time David comes into the bedroom, wakes me, phone in hand, and tells me Karo is on the phone.  I pry one eye open and take it. Three happy, peppy, people are on the line. Jay, Karo and Jerry. No Betty. They say they’ve tried to reach Betty, but just keep getting the answering machine. I say “OK, y’all talk, I’ll listen and nap.” Nooooooo, they say, you must wake up and talk to us. And you have to call Betty (I’m the only one left with unlimited long distance, so I’m the only one who won’t get charged for the call). So I get up and make coffee and try to call Betty a couple of times. She still doesn’t answer. It’s now about a quarter of two. We’ve been on the phone about a half hour. In this time, I’ve gotten up, went to the loo, made coffee, tried to call Betty twice, gotten comfortably seated in my recliner where I can at least lean back and rest my weary body, and basically have only been able to listen to these three happy, peppy, people converse. Now they are talking about some old family picture Jerry has posted on the site and are trying to identify all of the people in it. So, of course, now I have to get up, get online and see what they are talking about.

I am fully awake now and ready for our couple of hours of fun and frolic. I get the site up. I say, “Yeah, I see it. That is Uncle Jasper.” Jay says…”Well, I have to go. It’s time to pick up MSA”. Karo says…”I gotta go too. It’s time for my meetin’.” Jay and Karo both say, almost in unison, “Lynda, you can talk to Jerry.” Jerry,  apparently not wanting to be last one stuck on the phone with me, says…”I gotta go too.” They say byes all around, the usual I love you’s…. and I’m left with a dial tone.

If I hear they all got together later today with Betty………..they’re all going down.

Oh, FYI. From this day forward I will personally refer these Sunday phone get-togethers as FPUs.

Moms Always Get the Last Word

When I was a young girl, about seven or eight, I loved going to the laundromat with Mom. It was fun to run around and play outside and we usually got to get a coke from the vending machine.

One day she was going to do the laundry and only Jay got to go. I was so upset and kept begging her to let me go, but she kept saying “No.”

As they were getting in the car, I stood on the front porch and yelled, “Well, I won’t be here when you get back!!!” They drove off and I went inside.

A few mintues later, as I was siiting on the pottie feeling quite proud of myself for getting in the last jab, the door flew open and Mom came in with a switch, pulled me off the toilet and proceeded to whip the  tar out of me, repeating with each swing….”You won’t be here when I get back!? You won’t be here when I get back!?” And she left.

Needless to say, I may have only had to pee when I went in there, but……….