| October 01 '05 |
|
| Volume 487 |
|
New Greeter On
The Bright Side
I should probably have my head examined, but I recently
agreed to serve as a greeter for the eleven o’clock worship service
at First Baptist Church, Pontotoc. I often make a spur of the moment choice
and then question my wisdom in not thinking through my choice.
As I recall, I was walking up the steps to the church's sanctuary a couple
of Sunday mornings ago, and Bill Jackson, also a greeter, spoke, "Wayne Carter,
just the man I need to see."
"And, what is it you need?" I responded.
"I need you to serve as a greeter for a one year term, on the north door.
The two men around there have been serving for about three years and have
asked to be relieved. If you are willing to do this, you need to be here
every Sunday no later than 10:40 and man your post until 11:05," Bill elaborated.
"I usually try to find a seat about the time everyone is standing for the
greeting portion of the service."
"Do you need me to start next Sunday or today?" I asked.
"Today, if you don’t mind," Bill replied.
So, with very little reflection, I agreed to accept the position offered.
I imagine a sense of guilt in not helping out "my church" as much as I once
did played a part in my willingness to serve, but it may well have been an
extension of the aforementioned tendency to respond quickly.
Before reporting for duty, I entered the sanctuary and laid my Bible on the
seat of the pew where I normally sit, not so much to reserve a seat as to
let my wife know I had made it to church. As overprotective as she’s
become since my heart attack, I later realized I should have written her
a note to let her know where I was. Otherwise, she would probably think I
had taken ill and excused myself before she got out of the Pre-school department
where she works.
Terry Butler was the single greeter that morning on the north door as I explained
my role. I asked him who was responsible for the opened door going into the
vestibule. He said that usually fell to the assigned usher. Unlike the greeters
on the east door, who open the door as they welcome members and guests, our
job would involve greeting folks as they prepared to climb the steps of the
north porch and assisting the elderly as needed.
I had hardly been initiated when the brightness of the white-roofed gymnasium
directly across the street made me regret my commitment.
"Well, here’s a disadvantage to working this door," I silently mused.
"I’ll have to look at that white roof every Sunday for a year."
The roof was to have been red to match that of the sanctuary, but a mix-up
of some sort left us with a white roof instead. I have no doubt I can stand
the sight of it for a year, but I doubt I’ll get used to it, and I doubt
I’ll like the color of the roof any better at the end of the year than
now. All of which, I’m sure, will add new meaning to "looking on the
bright side."
I have the feeling it will be quite cold facing the north wind
this winter, but maybe I can find enough clothes to keep me warm. But, it’s
the wet weather that will likely impact me the most, as it’s hard to
stay dry in wind and rain. As for next summer, I should make it fine, what
with me taking a blood thinner and the tolerance I develop for hot weather
by doing yard work.
It later occurred to me that I will be placing myself at a greater risk of
contracting a cold or even the flu by shaking hands with other parishioners
in greater than normal numbers this winter. Though, my sister, Sarah, tells
me I’ll be okay, if I take the flu shot this fall. However, I’m
not as certain about that as she is. Neither am I entirely comfortable in
the Lord protecting me from illness while doing His work, for we once had
a pastor who broke from tradition and stopped shaking hands with the congregation
following the Sunday morning worship service. He was convinced that, in so
doing, he picked up a virus from one of the flock and was quite ill for several
days. In light of the pastor’s viral experience, the refrain, "What
He’s done for others, He’ll do for you," seems slightly less assuring.
Doubts aside, I am looking forward to serving as a greeter. Smiling at folks
and speaking to them comes a lot more natural to me these days than it did
in my youth when it was something my dad required of me with regard to our
customers at Carter & Austin Grocery and Market. Anyway, I’ll have
the opportunity to speak to a host of friends that I would ordinarily only
"see" at church, which is the far better "bright side" in being a greeter.
Gasoline Gripe
Enduring Panic & Pricing
I have never seen anything like it, and I’m old enough to have seen
about everything. Gasoline prices are not only ridiculously high, but they
have upset the applecart of common sense.
For years, gas stations could be depended upon for their main consistency,
a lack of competitiveness. Whatever a given station priced its regular gas,
one could depend on the rest of the stations in the area pricing theirs the
same with all branded gasoline stations typically two to four cents per gallon
higher than those selling unbranded gasoline.
It hasn’t been too long ago that I could drive all over the state of
Mississippi and the price of gasoline from one town to another wouldn’t
vary much more than ten cents per gallon. Nowadays, the variance may be fifty
cents a gallon or more.
Hurricane Katrina caused a brief disruption in gas supply and panic set in
statewide creating a shortage prompting distributors to ration gasoline purchases
by price limits, gallon limits, and limits imposed on the type of container.
It’s been a wild ride, and I’m afraid it’s not over.
Two months ago, price-conscious consumers in Pontotoc would tell you the
cheapest gas in the area could be purchased at Wild Bill’s in nearby
Sherman, MS. Wild Bill’s is an outlet for unbranded gasoline and is
often fifteen cents cheaper than the stations in Pontotoc. However, since
Katrina blew in, cheap gas is where one finds it, and it’s not always
where one might expect. In fact, the last two times I bought gas at Wild
Bill’s, I paid more than I would have by gassing up in Tupelo or Pontotoc.
I’ve become somewhat accustomed to having to pre-pay for gasoline before
pumping it, and I’ve become accustomed to seeing signs posted on the
pumps stating the gallon limit or the dollar limit of the purchase. But,
I can’t get used to the rapid rise and fall of gasoline prices. On a
recent Thursday, I paid $2.56/gal for unbranded, unleaded regular gasoline.
The following Monday the price had climbed almost forty cents to $2.94/gal.
I’m reasonably certain the price hike was "all at once," but I wasn’t
there to see it happen. By Tuesday, the price had fallen to $2.89.
Ever since gasoline prices rose above two dollars per gallon, I’ve refused
to pump more than thirty dollars worth of gas in a single fill-up. Though
SUPERVALU reimburses me for all gas purchased for my company car, the thoughts
of paying forty dollars for a fill-up really galls me, and I’d rather
spread out my purchases several times a day than surrender to what I view
as artificially inflated gasoline prices. Plus, it costs the gas station
a processing fee each time I use a credit card, whether I buy
twenty-dollar’s worth of gas or forty-dollar’s worth.
I had kept my fill-ups under twenty-eight dollars, until I got careless one
day while watching a "dually" with a cattle trailer negotiate a turn and
let the pump get to $29.50 before I could stop it. Recently, on my way to
Indianola, I bought gas in Grenada where gas was $2.69/ gal. Because I only
purchased $20.00, I stopped at the same station that afternoon to fill-up.
The price per gallon had risen to $2.79/gal, but it was still cheaper than
the Indianola stations, where branded and unbranded gasoline was $2.89/gal.
I recently discussed gasoline price fluctuations and the apparent role reversal
of branded and unbranded gasoline with a Shell wholesaler. He explained that
in a "more normal market," the distributors of unbranded gasoline often had
an advantage in being able to shop for the cheapest price. Yet, since Katrina,
the advantage has shifted to those who had signed contracts with a supplier.
Independent distributors have been left to the mercy of "a free market,"
with price and supply fluctuating wildly.
Bodock Beau
Senior Wellness
Perhaps it’s because I’m a senior, that I find jokes about seniors
more interesting than I once did. The following were contributed by my cousin,
Ken Gaillard, who is slightly more senior than I am.
Senior Wellness
Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the very elderly
widow and asked, "How old was your husband?"
"98" she replied."Two years older than me."
"So you're 96," the undertaker commented.
She responded, "Hardly worth going home is it?"
--------------------------------------------
I've sure gotten old. I've had two bypass surgeries. A hip replacement, new
knees, fought prostate cancer, and diabetes. I'm half blind, can't hear anything
quieter than a jet engine, take 40 different medications that make me dizzy,
winded, and I’m subject to blackouts. I have bouts with dementia and
poor circulation. I can hardly feel my hands and feet anymore. I can't remember
if I'm 85 or 92 and have lost all my friends. But...thank God, I still
have my driver's license!
------------------------------------------
A 97 year old man goes into his doctor's office and says, "Doc, I want my
sex drive lowered." "Sir", replied the doctor, "You're 97. Don't you think
your sex drive is all in your head?" "You're darned right it is!" replied
the old man. "That's why I want it lowered!"
--------------------------------------------
An elderly woman from Brooklyn decided to prepare her will and make her final
requests. She told her rabbi she had two final requests: First, she
wanted to be cremated, and second, she wanted her ashes scattered over
Bloomingdales.
"Bloomingdales?" the rabbi exclaimed. "Why Bloomingdales?"
"Then I'll be sure my daughters visit me twice a week."
--------------------------------------------
Three old guys are out walking.
First one says, "Windy, isn't it?"
Second one says, "No, it’s Thursday!"
Third one says, "So am I. Let's go get a beer."
--------------------------------------------
A man was telling his neighbor, "I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost
me four thousand dollars, but it is state of the art. It's perfect."
"Really," answered the neighbor. "What kind is it?"
"Twelve thirty."
Home
Copyright © 2000 - 2005 RRN
Online.
