Friday, December 9, 2011

Playing of the game

I was a poor student, in many ways. I really should have taken pity sakes on my teachers, but there was very little incentive, in my mind, to do so. It took forever for me to learn that you could do more with education than get a job and make money...which in 1964 was what was expected of you. Make us proud! Make lots of money. Give us grand children. Whose life is this? I decided, early on, it was mine. Oh, it was NOT easy to take it back once "they" thought the indoctrination was complete.

I regularly received 50's and 60's on tests in high school and college. 70 was a C. anything below that was failing, cause in college you had to take the class over if you made a D or F. In high school they just wanted to get rid of you, even if it took a social promotion to do so.

Hear my argument to the many disgusted teachers who whined that I should make a good grade so people would be proud of me. I would be a failure if I didn't study hard for my future. Look, I made a 55% on the test. That means I knew more than half of the material. Wouldn't it be nice to go through life knowing you were going to be successful 70 to 100% percent of you life? Ain't gonna' happen, lady.

Get a grip, people. Life is a crap shoot. Ask someone who did everything right and lived a good clean life, owned a house. He then lost a house in the late great unpleasantness cause he did one wrong thing...invested in the stock market, and got taken for a ride. literally, to the poor house. Why?

I bet he asks himself that everyday. Was it he was were fed a ration of BS in high school and college? Probably. His buddies all invested in stocks, etc. It was the good thing to do for your retirement pleasure.

I know guys who were dumb as a sled track in school. They knew they weren't going to college, and became plumbers, carpenters, electricians, IE, trades people. They work hard and  present you with a bill that make even a stock broker turn pale. They are one of the "hard working Americans" the politicians talk about. A lumber monkey framing guy works for every cent with blood, sweat and tears. Thanks a tradesman next time you see one. Tell a politician to dig a ditch next time you meet one...I'd give him a shovel just to see it.

I figured out I didn't want to go to college way before I went to high school.  I was big and strong and smart, or so I thought. I didn't mind working. My family said I was big and strong, but not so smart...so I went to college.

It let me apply for the jobs that said "college education required". I very seldom made it past the first interview. I did not use "golden word" in my resume. I guess I flat out didn't want a job, job. Too many people telling me what to do, obligations to join clubs and associate with people with whom I had nothing in common. I cared not for telling anyone what to do, that makes you "the boss" and people don't like bosses, neither do I.

Funny story. One of the grand boys, as a kindergartener, got into trouble in school when a teacher told him to do something. He looked at her and said, "You're not the boss of me, Mom is!" He probably said "you ain't" like a good Southern boy.

I bailed... started to play a game that was not an easy one to play. Independence. The 60's and 70's were good for "alternative lifestyle management". You wrote the curriculum as you went, and tuition was paid in hard knocks, crop failures, cold winters with little  heat and frozen pipes. Experience is a hard teacher...but, by God, you learned to survive from people around you and main strength and awkwardness. There were willing hands to help...people who had lived it during the depression. THAT education is better than a piece of paper on the wall, in my book. Both, and you've got it made.

You didn't like it someplace, go someplace till you found a sitting place. Took me until I was 55 years old to find a good sitting place...and someone to sit with. Folks called us "hippies" back then. I don't what what they were called. Used to be "Hippies" were called hobos, gypsies, tramps, Bohemians, immigrants... I ain't no more a hippie that the Pope is a rock star.

So let's see. I play Free Cell on the computer. Given,  it's a great waste of time, but I've won 508 and lost 447...batting 53%. I'd say that makes me a winner...despite what all my teachers said. 53% is winning. I'm a success at something!

There was a Mad Magazine saying: That's Life! What's Life? A magazine, How much does it cost? 25 cents. I only got a dime. That's Life. If you smiled, you'll go far and see much! Or you've already done that.

 Am I starting to sound like Neal Boortz? God, I hope not. He, at least, knows he's a "rant head" trying to make a living filling 4 hrs. a day on talk radio. I'd rather he be "dead air".

Maybe I'll go for a walk and find something worth while to dumb down about.

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