Showing posts with label mistakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mistakes. Show all posts

Friday, March 15, 2013

This Blog Could Really Use Some Humor





I really enjoyed reading Katy Pluim’s blog Living Life “Single-Handedly” . She said she was working on creating a new blog – whether she did or not , I don’t know.  The only blog I have is this one which has not been updated since September of last year (over six months ago)  and I have missed her posts and the sweet comments made by her Aunt Pam.

One of the things that Katy created for her posts was “Funny Friday” which featured humorous stories of anyone willing to share.  She used a few that I had sent over – but not these four – which are actually a lot funnier when listening to Corey tell them.  The written words just don’t translate as the verbal expression.

I’m thinking my blog could used something light and funny.  I did get Corey’s permission to share these with Katy.  I also got him permission to post them myself.  May you (the readers) enjoy them as much as I have:

 1.    The Bank Robber                                        

Corey was working with a company called The Costume Closet. During the month of Halloween the employees were asked to dress up.

One day, when he was dressed like a Medieval Crusader, he went to the bank to deposit his paycheck.  The location was was caddy cornered across the street from the Costume Closet –    As long as he was there he had decided to re-order his personal checks as well.

The treatment that he received was very less than professional.  The teller was very cold toward him.  After he finished up with her at the window, he said that he’d like to order checks.

“Well, you’ll have to do it over there,” she said quite curtly as she pointed to the desked area.

Confused by her behavior, Corey politely thanked her and went over to the desk.  Same thing. 

He gave his personal information and said he would like a specific logo or icon to be included on the check.  The bank worker quickly flipped through her book and said that she didn’t have it.

Corey asked if he could look.  He found it and showed it to her, but he still thought her somewhat rude and had showed very unprofessional behavior.  

With his deposit and his ordering accomplished, Corey headed back towards the store.  He noticed a police car following him back to the store and thought “what the heck is going on?”

As he approached the store, the policeman rolled down his window and asked why he was in costume.  Corey informed him that he worked at the costume shop and showed them his name tag, which had both his name and "The Costume Closet" engraved on it.  The police said they had been notified that a costumed individual had been at the bank.  The tellers had been skittish because they had recently been robbed at least twice by people in costumes and masks. 

My brother thought, "Didn't they see my name tag or the company name on my paycheck?"  It was Halloween season, after all. Even so, why would he have then provided his personal information while ordering checks?  Duh.

          2.    Terrorist Attack

It was shortly after the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001.  Planes had been grounded for nearly a week.  And even after they started running again, not all flights were full because of the after effect that was felt by many individuals.

Corey had taken a flight to Pennsylvania for a friend's wedding and was heading back to Salt Lake City from a long layover in Detroit.  It was the 17th, I believe.  He sat in his assigned seat until the doors closed.  Not even thinking about the events that had recently occurred, Corey moved to an unoccupied seat for convenience, as he had been accustomed to doing prior to 9-11.

Noticing that he was not in his assigned seat, a flight attendant asked him for his boarding pass.  Corey had left it in the baggage compartment above his original seat across the aisle.  The fight attendant told Corey to come with her.  The doors were opened and the two of them exited the plane.  Corey was than interrogated by the entire crew, with the captain taking lead.  They asked his name, proof of his identity, why he'd been flying, how he'd booked his ticket, his career (an actor - that went over well) and so forth.  The flight was held up for at least twenty minutes.

Corey, who is actually quite fair skinned and wearing an American flag pin, was being treated like a potential terrorist. When the issue at hand was finally resolved, Corey was allowed back on the plane.  He sat in his assigned seat and remained there with his eyes on the floor.

After the flight started, the flight attendant said he could move if he would like.  Corey opted to stay in his own seat and kept his eyes down the entire time.

(for a more accurate account and then some, see this post)

                3.      Audition for a Brother

Corey had the opportunity to audition for Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dream coat.  While the production itself was to be held at Kingsbury Hall (in Salt Lake) the auditions were being held at a local High School because the musical director was that high school's choir teacher.

So Corey went to the high school.  He got there early because he is always early.  He was asked if he was there for auditions.  He said he was and he was told to fill out an application.

He thought the application was weird – unlike anything he had ever filled out before.  It was asking for things like his GPA.  He filled out the application and went to the theatre to audition.

After his name was called, he presented his music to the piano player and was asked which part he was auditioning for. He answered that he was there to try out for one of the brothers and proceeded with his audition.

After belting out the song he had chosen, the choreographer (or was it the conductor?) said, “You’re not auditioning for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, are you?”

Corey said that he was there to try out for Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dream coat.  But since he had been early and had quite a youthful appearance at the time (he was in his early 20’s I believe) it was assumed that he was there to audition for the high school musical try outs that took place before the “Joseph” auditions started.

                         4.        Page’s Lane

Corey had gone up to Centerville to audition for Pages Lane – which he says was the most unprofessional, irreverent environment he has ever gone to for auditioning for anything. 

The play was “The Secret Garden” and he was absolutely certain that every child in Centerville and the surrounding areas had come to audition.  He said the environment was noisy.  No courtesy was shown to those performing (auditioning) and so many were unprepared.

He said one kid auditioned with “Happy Birthday” and several kids after him decided they would like to audition with that also.  One kid sang a cappella and changed keys several times in a song that didn't normally have key changes.  Corey, who’s been acting since he was six, was appalled.  (It is a thousand times funnier to hear Corey tell it)

When Corey got up to audition and sang this beautiful, confident, well-rehearsed song, the room fell silent.  As he shared his frustrating experience with me and my mom (and we were laughing hysterically which was probably not helping) he said he almost wished he would not get a call back because he didn’t think he wanted to work there.  At the same time he would feel offended if he hadn’t been picked because he was obviously prepared.  He did get an offer to be in the choir (he can truly make or break a choir with or without his voice), but turned it down. 

Corey says he should get a job assisting children on the proper way to audition.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I just DON’T have a passion for family history

          When I was twelve I took a family history class – only it wasn’t actually called Family History.  At that time it was referred to a genealogy. (Boring name; must be why they changed it) I was the only youth in the class.  The instructor was early 40s – possibly late 30s.  The rest of the class members were all over the age of 50.
Things were done on legal size paper.  There were Xerox machines (photocopiers) and pens.  No PAF, Ancestry.com, Google, etc.  I would imagine doing family research is so much easier now than back then.

My instructor had been raised in a foster care system and had always had a strong sense of getting to know and understand her family.  It was a very long process.
I understand why family history is so important to her.  To have a connection.  And when she did find connections, the discoveries were great.  As an adult she learned that she had a sister who had chosen the same profession and was married to a husband who served in law enforcement just as my instructors husband had.  And I enjoyed hearing her stories.

I enjoy hearing stories of my own youth.  Or those of my ancestors.  But after a while they are just names.  I don’t know if I am seriously related to these people or not.  I don’t like family research.  In fact, I loathe it.  It’s just not important to me to know where I came from or how my ancestors were treated or how they treated others. 
Even when names and stories are given to me and they become more than names or stories but actual people I have read about in books – I still don’t know the accuracy of our relationship.  So what if we’re related? So what if we’re not?  I just don’t care.

That’s not to say I don’t credit other people with finding their ancestors.  Spending countless hours searching for some sort of a clue.  All the more power to them.  If that it truly what they love and want to do, let them do it.  Kudos to their desire and passion.  Bravo.  It’s just really NOT my thing.

For years and years our family could be traced to William Button’s mother, Eliza Tate – a very unattractive woman.  Legend was that she sang opera with her three sisters who were in favor of aborting her baby.  Upon hearing their plans, Eliza had run away.
 Eliza had William out of wedlock.  Now that had bothered me.  Wouldn’t a child out of wedlock have the same name as its mother if dad was not even in the picture?  I don’t know.  As a twelve year old I accepted all information as being accurate and complete. 

Recently I was told by a cousin that the information that we have had for all these years is inaccurate.  There are no records of any Eliza Tates being born in that particular town (or village or city or whatever) or approximate year.  The woman supposedly never existed.  So who is it really that appears in the photograph?  And where did the photograph even come from.


My cousin got in touch with another cousin – a very distant cousin to the both of us.  Her records indicate that Williams mother (who had him out of wedlock) was Jane Button.  Okay.  She had him out of wedlock and had given him her name. I accept that.  But does my approval really make it fact or fiction?  How do I know?

I do enjoy the stories I’ve read about my great-great (how many generations?) grandfather.  He sounds like quite a personable man who loved his family – and though he had his feelings hurt for whatever reason – seemed to resolve them.  But they’re all second hand stories.  I still don’t know what is true and what is not.  And it really doesn’t matter.

All of my ancestors were part of the human race.  None was perfect – though each of them may have strived to live up to the good family name, parents’ expectations, the community’s belief, or whatever.  All have had struggles – whether with an occupation or family member, day to day routines, diseases.  And then there have been black sheep and orphans – raised as orphans and yet they were produced biologically.  And I’m sure they can be found by one who has the passion to find them.  I don’t have the passion. 

My ancestors most likely experienced pain and sorrow, laughter and joy.  There was wealth and poverty.  They endured their fair share of trials.  They were part of the human race.

I do keep histories and scrapbook for my own generation.  Does that count? My passion lies with the future – though I do enjoy stories from the past and can learn from them.  The past is not where my passion lies.

I am grateful to all of those who have the passion and for the enthusiasm one experiences with discovery and sharing.  I am grateful to those who are willing to accept my choices for not pressing forward with my own family research.  And for understanding that the passion is just not there.