Glenda’s
Gifts The Greatest Is Charity
Being associated with Habitat For Humanity
has its rewards, not the least of which is getting to know some pretty wonderful
people. Glenda Corley, wife of retired Methodist pastor, Rev. Ken Corley,
ranks among the wonderful ones I’ve met as a result of my wife being
the director of the local Habitat affiliate.
Glenda loves to channel her boundless energy by caring for her elderly mother,
setting a table filled with home-cooked meals, baking all sorts of breads,
pies, cakes, and cookies, which she often gives to others, not to mention
lending her carpentry skills on occasion to Habitat often working alongside
her equally qualified husband. Somehow, she even found time this summer to
direct a wedding that I had occasion to attend. I don’t know how she
does the things she does, but her fast-paced work ethic may account for the
fact there’s not an ounce of fat on her.
Brother Joe Steen, a Glenmary Missioner with the Catholic Church, has been
assigned to work with two Habitat affiliates in Union and Pontotoc counties
for the past nine years but is about to be pulled away to another area of
service. At the last quarterly meeting of the board of directors for Pontotoc
County Habitat for Humanity, Bro. Joe was recognized for his service to both
affiliates.
Ryan Fuoss, a native of Chicago, recently completed a year’s assignment
as an AmeriCorps VISTA worker for Pontotoc County Habitat for Humanity. At
the same board meeting, he, too, was recognized and thanked for his efforts
this past year.
For the past several years, Glenda Corley has hosted a birthday party for
Bro. Joe, one in which she usually tries to surprise him. She also tries
to "do something" for Barbara near her birthday. This year, Glenda wasn’t
able to parcel out the events, so she combined several of them into one big
party. She invited Brother Joe, Barbara, and Ryan to her home for dinner,
recently. Father Pete Peterson, who shares a home with Brother Joe, was there
as were Glenda’s mother, husband, and me.
Ken Corley tends a huge vegetable garden in addition to the flower gardens/
beds around the house. Glenda’s scrumptious meal included several home-grown
vegetables as well as cantaloupe and both red and yellow-meated watermelons.
Desserts that evening included peach cobbler with ice cream, egg custard,
and cake. There may be some who would not consider the meal a feast, but
whoever they are and wherever they live, they surely don’t run in my
circle.
Glenda gave Barbara a birthday card and a decorative birdhouse gourd she
had crafted herself. To Ryan, she presented a Dr. Seuss book, "Oh, the Places
You’ll Go," as well as a decorative gourd. Ryan will be entering the
University of Michigan Law School this fall.
I didn’t go away empty handed either. Glenda gave me a bottle of pepper
sauce and a jar of spicy green tomato relish, probably because of my expressed
enjoyment of both on my vegetables at dinner, but more likely because giving
comes quite naturally for Glenda Corley. It’s too bad there’s only
one Glenda Corley; everyone could use her or someone like her in his or her
life.
Star Power My
Commercial Appeal
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been videotaped twice, once by an
amateur who wanted an explanation of Pump Perks that he could share with
his employees; the second occasion, this week, was to role-play a customer
for a professionally produced TV commercial. However, readers of this newsletter
need not worry; all this star power has not gone to my head. Plus, not having
seen the final results of either taping, my "performances" may be laughable.
Pump Perks, in case you’re wondering, is a phenomenal program that involves
a partnership arrangement between a grocery store and a fuel center in which
each may benefit by making gasoline cheaper for the grocery shopper. The
grocer selects certain items to promote, not by lowering the retail, but
by offering a cent’s per gallon discount on the item. The customer may
then visit a participating fuel center to purchase gasoline at a reduced
price, which in the Columbus area could possibly be as little as a penny
a gallon for a up to a fifteen gallon purchase. That’s practically free
gas!
There are many promotions that I’ve seen that tout a win-win situation,
some of which do not live up to the promise, but this one has proven itself
in other parts of the country. I see it as a win-win-win; the grocer wins
more shoppers from his competitor, the fuel site wins extra business, and
the consumer wins huge discounts on gasoline purchases. Kroger and Wal-Mart
both offer discounted gasoline to their customers, but their idea of a discount
is three cents per gallon to ten cents per gallon. Pump Perks discounts are
virtually unlimited.
But, about my star power, I wasn’t expecting to be chosen for either
role, but when approached, I didn’t mind helping promote the program
I had sold to the owners of the grocery stores and fuel sites. For the amateur
taping, I spoke for perhaps two or three minutes, providing more detail about
the program than outlined above. For the TV commercial, I really had no clue
that I would be asked to participate in any form other than that of an advisor
on what should be included in the commercial. Upon acceptance of the role,
I wrongly presumed the extent of my involvement would be that of the grocery
shopper.
Only one person showed up to tape the commercial. T. J. Tate, a diminutive
Black man, directed me to shop throughout the store, pausing here and there
for him to get a close-up of the items being selected. He was very thorough
in explaining what he was trying to accomplish with each scene. Fortunately,
he explained there would be no sound recorded, so there were no scripts to
be memorized.
When we reached the meat aisle, I felt like I was in my element. And, though
I already had a pack of hot dogs in the basket, he said he needed to get
some shots of me selecting several meat items.
About then, he grabbed a pack of what looked like pig ears and said, "Here,
use these."
Obviously, he didn’t know my temperament for role-playing has its limits.
"There’s no way, I’m going to let you film me purchasing a pack
of pig ears," I replied, tossing the package back into the meat case.
In my years of working in meat departments, I’ve sold a lot of pig ears
and other off alls to Mississippi’s dominant racial minority, but I’ve
never bought any for myself, never pretended to buy any, and wasn’t
about to start and run the possibility of damaging my TV image.
He laughed at my resistance to his suggestion and allowed me to make a different
selection.
At the checkout, the cashier was pretty nervous and several "takes" were
needed before T. J. was satisfied. The final scene inside the store had me
walking past the camera toward the exit with a bagboy behind me with the
purchases.
"Here’s your card," I told T. J., referring to the credit-card-sized
reward card "You’ve got a thirty-seven cents per gallon reward."
"No, no, you keep the card," he insisted, "You’ll need it when we go
to the Shell station."
Until then, it had not occurred to me I was not through acting for the morning.
Steve Townsend, the owner of the grocery store, is a graduate of Mississippi
State, though his wife graduated from Ole Miss and now works for the W.
Steve’s son, Clint, a graduate of Alabama, recently joined his dad’s
business. As an Ole Miss grad, I sometimes suffer a lot of abuse from fans
and graduates of rival universities, especially on their turf.
Realizing, my star power was to continue yet a little while longer, I remarked,
"Had I known all this before I left home, I’d have worn my Ole Miss
shirt.
Clint replied, "Then you wouldn’t be in the commercial."
Half wishing I had worn my shirt with the Colonel Rebel icon on it, I laughed
aloud.
Steve had told me earlier that T. J. would provide his personal vehicle for
fueling at the Shell station. It seemed a nice gesture to allow the TV guy
to receive a free fill-up.
"His car is already at Bullets," Steve commented as we walked to the parking
lot to ride over to the Shell station.
Arriving at the Shell station, I tried to guess which vehicle at the pumps
might belong to T. J. Since it was not a peak time of day for fuel purchases,
I supposed T. J. had simply left his vehicle at a pump ready for fueling.
Two vehicles sat unattended at the pumps. One was a late model SUV, and the
other was a dilapidated, two-door, something or other from the nineties.
"I hope I’m not going to be filling up the clunker," I shared with an
associate as we walked toward the pumps. "Man, the TV station must not pay
their help very much. The grill is gone, the hood is bent, and it hasn’t
been washed for a while."
The politically correct among us would crucify me for associating ownership
of a beat-up car with a member of a racial minority, but I’d point them
to the Indian proverb about walking a mile in the moccasins belonging to
someone else, before passing judgment.
Minutes later, I laughed at my prior assumption and breathed an image-building
sigh of relief, when the driver of the vehicle entered the clunker and drove
it away.
T. J. set his camera down near the pump we selected to use and went to get
his personal vehicle, which was parked on the parking lot of Bullets Shell.
He explained that the new SUV belonged to his wife.
T. J. was as meticulous with camera angles and shots at the fuel site as
he had been in the grocery store, but at one point when he was filming a
close-up of the Pump Perks card in my right hand I cracked him up with a
remark.
"They said had I worn my Ole Miss shirt, I couldn’t have been in this
commercial, but check out this Ole Miss class ring. They’ll see it up
close when this commercial airs."
I don’t know if I’ll receive a copy of the commercial or see it
sometime on television, but it turned out to be a fun thing to do. I trust
readers of this newsletter understand the tongue-in-cheek fun I’ve had
with "star power" and don’t presume any arrogance or false pride on
my part. Meanwhile, just don’t be surprised if you live near Columbus,
Mississippi and see a familiar face in an evening TV commercial; it might
be mine.
Bodock Beau
Humor For Lexophiles
Bob Jackson sent these groaners (more to follow soon), also known as Humor
for Lexophiles.
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I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.
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Police were called to a day care where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.
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Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right
now.
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The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference.
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The butcher backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his
work.
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To write with a broken pencil is pointless.
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When fish are in schools they sometimes take debate.
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The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
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A thief who stole a calendar got twelve months.
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A thief fell and broke his leg in wet cement. He became a hardened criminal.
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