Walking the streets of Wallace since I returned home in 2007, I have been both saddened and amused by the numerous storefronts advertising their wares as "antiques". The number of antiques shops is rivaling the number of bars that Wallace had in the old days. You could bar hop all night in Wallace, and still never get to all of them. Now, it's "antique shops". As I blogged about once before, even the old Cornell-Ward Funeral Home is now known as "Parlor Antiques". I have no idea what kind of antiques they sell, nor am I sure that I want to know. I find it repulsive and disrespectful.
OK, back to the subject of this blog. Just what is an antique? I used to think that antiques were something very special, something very valuable and rare, like a Stradivarius violin or Rembrandt painting. Boy, was I ever wrong ! Nope, Evidently, an antique is anything that is sitting in the attic or garage that is rusty, scarred, and of no use to anyone. I have also been told that an antique is something fifty years old or older. OK, now I get it.
All of us baby boomers are now officially antiques. Wow, that means that I must be an antique, as is everyone else that I went to school with. So by my own definition, I am rusty( yep, my knees creak everytime I stand up. WD 40 does not seem to work anymore). Scarred? Oh yea, all over, and of no use to anyone, well, I will leave that one up to others to judge. So, I wonder how much I am worth on the antique market. Think I will go up to Wallace today and walk in to one of the bars, or I mean antique shops, and get a quote on me. I suppose I might get arrested of I ask a female employee how much she would pay for me.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Carl L Starchman, Sr, RIP
At 3:45 this morning, Dad went to be with his beloved wife and our mother.
Dad, I loved you more than words can describe.
Carl L Starchman Sr.
9/30/1914 ----10/17/09
Rest in peace Dad. I am glad that you are now with Mom, because you were so lonely after she left.
Dad, I loved you more than words can describe.
Carl L Starchman Sr.
9/30/1914 ----10/17/09
Rest in peace Dad. I am glad that you are now with Mom, because you were so lonely after she left.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The Right Wrong Number
Ah yes, back to, hotel land. One of the cardinal rules in the hotel business is to never, never, never, give out the room number of a guest. I know that many hotel clerks do it, but it can lead to all kinds of problems if you do. Of course, it can lead to all kinds of problems if you don't. Kind of a bad deal for the poor innocent desk clerk. The next few blogs I will recount some stories that worked both ways.
Spokane-1982. One of the things that I learned to dread the most was when a guest would check in with and say to me,"don't let anyone know I am here". OK, my suspicions would immediately go on the alert, I would assure the guest that I never gave out room numbers, although one time I did, and well, I will tell that story some other time. Anyway, usually, when a guest made it a point to lean over the desk and in a sinister way say that, I knew trouble was just around the corner. Now, usually, it was either a man or a woman checking in with somebody that was ,well, let's say, they should not have been checking in with.
It was a cold night in March, and I was working the graveyard shift. I was use to all kinds of things on this shift, as you know from some of my previous stories. I had learned over the years to be very respectful of guest's privacy request. After all, they were the guests, Whatever they wanted, we tried to do. Shortly after midnight, a tall man walked through the door and requested a room for two. I did not pay much attention to him until he leaned over the desk and in a low, but menacing voice , said to me "don"t let anyone know that I am here." OK, I thought, another cheating husband. Oh well, whatever they did was not my concern. I did, however, hate being made a party to their infidelity, but it was my job to do honor their request.
About one hour later I received a call asking me what room Mr. Smith was in. I told her that we had no Mr. Smith's registered. End of story? Nope. About fifteen minutes later a very angry looking lady came in the office and asked again what room Mr. Smith was in. I told her again, sorry, no Mr. Smith. She then said"well, that is funny, that is our car parked in the lot. Now, you have better tell me what room he is in, or else I will knock on every door until I find him."
I then , in my stern authoritative voice that I saved for jerk people told her that if she does that I would call the police and have her arrested for trespassing. She left in a huff after shooting me a look that said" you will be sorry, you SOB."
Oh well, none of my business. OK, you guessed it, the phone rang from in-house and a guest told me that someone crazy lady was in the parking lot and bashing out the windshield to a car with a baseball bat. Great! I called the police, and within minutes they arrived and accosted the woman ion the lot. Of course, I had already figured out who the lunatic in with the baseball bat was.
A few minutes later an officer came in to talk to me. He then said something that blew me away.
"Washington is a community property state, and the car is registered to her and her husband, and if she wants to bash the windshield out, that is her business, and there is nothing that we can do. However, I could ask the them to escort her off of the property for trespassing". I said, please do so, and so they did.
I went out to the parking lot, and Mr. Smith was looking at his car, and shaking his head in dismay. I often wondered what Mrs, Smith did to Mr. Smith when he got home. I mean, anyone who would do that with a bat to a car, just think about what she could do to him. Hm, on second thought I don't want to know.
Spokane-1982. One of the things that I learned to dread the most was when a guest would check in with and say to me,"don't let anyone know I am here". OK, my suspicions would immediately go on the alert, I would assure the guest that I never gave out room numbers, although one time I did, and well, I will tell that story some other time. Anyway, usually, when a guest made it a point to lean over the desk and in a sinister way say that, I knew trouble was just around the corner. Now, usually, it was either a man or a woman checking in with somebody that was ,well, let's say, they should not have been checking in with.
It was a cold night in March, and I was working the graveyard shift. I was use to all kinds of things on this shift, as you know from some of my previous stories. I had learned over the years to be very respectful of guest's privacy request. After all, they were the guests, Whatever they wanted, we tried to do. Shortly after midnight, a tall man walked through the door and requested a room for two. I did not pay much attention to him until he leaned over the desk and in a low, but menacing voice , said to me "don"t let anyone know that I am here." OK, I thought, another cheating husband. Oh well, whatever they did was not my concern. I did, however, hate being made a party to their infidelity, but it was my job to do honor their request.
About one hour later I received a call asking me what room Mr. Smith was in. I told her that we had no Mr. Smith's registered. End of story? Nope. About fifteen minutes later a very angry looking lady came in the office and asked again what room Mr. Smith was in. I told her again, sorry, no Mr. Smith. She then said"well, that is funny, that is our car parked in the lot. Now, you have better tell me what room he is in, or else I will knock on every door until I find him."
I then , in my stern authoritative voice that I saved for jerk people told her that if she does that I would call the police and have her arrested for trespassing. She left in a huff after shooting me a look that said" you will be sorry, you SOB."
Oh well, none of my business. OK, you guessed it, the phone rang from in-house and a guest told me that someone crazy lady was in the parking lot and bashing out the windshield to a car with a baseball bat. Great! I called the police, and within minutes they arrived and accosted the woman ion the lot. Of course, I had already figured out who the lunatic in with the baseball bat was.
A few minutes later an officer came in to talk to me. He then said something that blew me away.
"Washington is a community property state, and the car is registered to her and her husband, and if she wants to bash the windshield out, that is her business, and there is nothing that we can do. However, I could ask the them to escort her off of the property for trespassing". I said, please do so, and so they did.
I went out to the parking lot, and Mr. Smith was looking at his car, and shaking his head in dismay. I often wondered what Mrs, Smith did to Mr. Smith when he got home. I mean, anyone who would do that with a bat to a car, just think about what she could do to him. Hm, on second thought I don't want to know.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Adversity makes you tough
At least I hope so! We finally got Dad home after a 25 day hospital stay, only to get a call from my sister-in-law that my brother is undergoing emergency open heart surgery tomorrow.
Wow, if I ever get any extra money, I will invest in hospital stock. My family alone should own Shoshone Medical Center after the past two years. My brother's surgery will be in Oklahoma, where he lives.
So, what have I learned from the past two months of family woes? I love each day! I wake up excited to be alive, and I vow each day to laugh, and laugh, and live.
Wow, if I ever get any extra money, I will invest in hospital stock. My family alone should own Shoshone Medical Center after the past two years. My brother's surgery will be in Oklahoma, where he lives.
So, what have I learned from the past two months of family woes? I love each day! I wake up excited to be alive, and I vow each day to laugh, and laugh, and live.
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I had always thought that there was some type of Divine order to this chaos. I always wanted to believe that everything happened for a purpo...
