If You’Re Gonna Be Stupid, You’Ve Gotta Be Tough!

By Bob Cole

The Cleburne County Search and Rescue Team recently found and saved a man lost on Mt. Cheaha in Alabama. The man had set out with his wife and kids on the difficult Pinhoti Trail, but once the wife and kids headed back, the man continued on. When he didnt return, his wife panicked and called in the search squadwho eventually found a man in his fifties, weighing about three hundred pounds, wearing leg braces, and using crutches.

This story just goes to show that if youre gonna be stupid, youve gotta be tough. Author Bob Cole knows all about it. He grew up on a farm in rural Georgia and used to have to chase cows before getting on the bus for school. Smelling like manure in front of the other kids certainly added a bit of toughness. Since those days, he has worked, married, and seen the world, but through it all, the old adage about toughness and stupidity still holds true.

This collection of true short stories follows Bob as he travels along the bumpy road of life. Follow him through a midlife crisis, family hijinks, meeting a new son-in-law, and on a mission trip to foreign lands (after all, stupidity is worldwide). Despite some hard timesand some tough decisionsBob Cole has never lost his sense of humor, and its apparent in this collection that will keep readers laughing, crying, and actin tough!

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462063772

Bob Cole

Bob Cole was born in 1953, in Marietta, Georgia. The fifth of six children, he grew up on a small farm in rural Cobb County. In 1994, at age forty, Bob left his job as a machine operator at a manufacturing plant and spent his life savings to start an advertising business. He mans the company helm with his wife of thirty-eight years, Renee.

Book preview

Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Foreword

In November of 1994 my wife, Renee, and I purchased a small advertising business. It was small then, and now, over sixteen years later with the current economic situation, it is indeed still small. In our very first publication, I wrote my debut article entitled Mid Life Crises. The purpose of that story was to introduce Renee and myself to those who got our paper in their mailboxes each week. I wrote it just to let those people know a little about us, and how we came to own the Georgia-Alabama Advertiser. The response I received from that first story inspired me to write again, and then again.

I have always gotten positive comments from people who have read my rambling stories. I believe people were interested because they could always find a little something in my stories that caused them to remember similar circumstances or events in their own lives. I’ve been told that I write the way people talk in our part of the country, therefore making it easy to get a mental picture of the focal point of the story.

The writings cover a period of about sixteen years, with a few exceptions. Most are simply true stories of everyday experiences and they may, or may not, appear in chronological order. Also, some of this book is based on things I have taught during my twenty years of being a Sunday school teacher. There was a period in my life a few years ago when I lost my inspiration to write. I was suffering from some type of depression I suppose, brought about by circumstances over which I had no control. The only thing I had control of in that situation was my attitude, and it was bad most of the time. I must have gotten better over time because I woke up one morning with a desire to tell another story.

As I was initially writing theses short stories, the last thing on my mind was to put them all together and publish them. My primary objective was to just fill up space and get the paper out another week. Then one day, I decided I wanted to do this for my grandchildren. As I am writing, we have three: Sidney, our beautiful granddaughter; Braden, our long, lanky grandson; and Peyton, our shiny penny. I just hope that one day they will have enough interest in PawPaw to actually sit down and read this book!

Grandchildren, Sidney, Braden and Peyton

01.jpg02.jpg

Acknowledgements

When I learned I was supposed to write acknowledgements it made me nervous. The only acknowledgements I was familiar with was the kind we have at church. Each month during the business meeting or conference as we call it, the Preacher, or Moderator, gets to a part of the meeting when he asks for acknowledgements. That’s when anybody who has done something really bad during the past month is supposed to get up, and tell the church what they have done, and ask forgiveness. I’ve been in church for fifty-seven years and I can remember only once when somebody made acknowledgements, and Renee won’t let me tell you about it even years later. So, you can see why I got a little skittish about making acknowledgements. As it turns out, this is a little different.

I would like to thank a few folks for their involvement in this book. Always first is my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Because of Him, I have Eternal Life. He is the source of my hope, and my inspiration.

Next, is my loving wife Renee. She has stood beside me through thick and thin. (Mostly thin.) She is, in great part, the inspiration behind this book. She is the subject of many stories in this book, and rates an honorable mention in many more. She encouraged me to publish this book as a legacy for our children, and grandchildren. She is also a great sport. As you read the pages of this book, you may find yourself thinking, How did he get by with printing that in the paper? She is my wife, my partner, my motorcycle-riding buddy, and sometimes she acts as my conscience. Thanks for being there, Mom.

I also want to thank my momma and daddy, Mary J. Cole, and the late Lionell Cole, for the values instilled into me as I was growing up. Thank you for the dedication and faithfulness you had to the Lord, to each other, and to your family. I just hope I can leave the same legacy for my family!

I want to thank each of my siblings; Jesse, Becky, Don, Shelia, and Tim, for their part in shaping who I am. You may not find your name printed anywhere else in this book, but be assured you are always somewhere in the back of my mind, especially when my warped sense of humor comes out!

I want to thank Renee’s parents, Rev. Charles, and Doris Wright for their tolerance (or intolerance at times) as they watched two kids start out making a life together. Thanks for all the times you’ve helped us as we struggled. Thank you, again, for helping us build our house. Thanks for all the times you got out in the cold, or heat, and helped me work on that junky well that was full of iron bacteria. Most of all, thanks for your daughter!

I want to thank the late Lena (Ma Maw) Wright, Renee’s grandmother, for the fond memories, and fodder for a couple of good stories.

Many thanks to Renee’s sisters, Joy, and Jan. Thanks, also, to their husbands, (and my half-witted brothers-in-law,) Danny, and Glenn, for being the source of a lot of fun over the years and also the subject of an article or two.

Many, many, many thanks to our children: Charlie and Joe, and our grandchildren, Sidney, Braden and Peyton. It’s mainly because of you that I am publishing this book. I sincerely hope this book will be a piece of PawPaw that you will enjoy and treasure.

My sincerest thank to James Cole and Sharon Burkart for the hours they spent proof reading. (That had to be an extremely tedious, boring task!)

Also, lots of thanks to Rhonda and Connie in the ADVERTISER office, who spent so much time sending and retrieving e-mails to Iuniverse. I couldn’t have done it without you!

Part 1

Mid Life Crisis

It’s 8:30 on Saturday night, and I’ve already built about a zillion hours this week, including one 24-hour stretch. I’m not looking forward to being back here after church tomorrow afternoon to put the finishing touches on the paper, but I’ll never be done tonight. The paper is due at the printer at 6:00 AM on Monday and it’s over an hour’s drive from here.

I must be CRAZY! I left a secure job with 17 years of service behind me because I had to work a little overtime. Yep, this just confirmed what folks that know me have suspected all along. Ole Bob’s a few french fries short of a Happy Meal, a few rocks short of a full load. That’s what you call going from the skillet to the frying pan. I put everything on the line to buy a business I knew nothing about; and guess what, I LOVE IT!

Take it from me. God does work in mysterious ways. After many years of doing the same job at the same company, I started praying for God to give me something to do besides operate an extruder. Soon after I prayed that prayer, a lot of positive things started happening. Everything was going just the way I had planned. I even knew which job God was going to give me, or at least I thought I knew.

I had been on the same job at Southwire for 15 years and on day shift for 10 years. Then, instead of moving on up, I slid way down. I found myself on night shift. I didn’t want to be on night shift. I wanted to be at my house in my bed while somebody else worked night shift. Now I went to work at 5 o’clock in the evening and got off at 3 o’clock in the morning. I got to see momma and the kids about thirty minutes a day. I thought I was gonna go bonkers! I missed my family so bad, but when the weekend finally came around, I was so ill tempered no one could stand to be around me.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. I found out there was going to be a cutback on my machine and since there weren’t but 2 shifts, it didn’t take a lot of figuring to figure out who was leaving. Don’t start jumping to conclusions and think I was going to be laid off. It was worse than that! Lord have mercy! I was being transferred to machine number XXXX-XX. I’m afraid to use the real machine number for fear of retribution from my old department manager, Tyrone Wilkerson. I’m not worried that anyone at Southwire will find out how bad that machine is… heck, they already know. I’m afraid Tyrone will be mad because I could possibly be influencing several thousand potential operators! There is always an opening on that machine. If you don’t believe me, just ask Lamar or George or Greg or Stanley or Patrick. They all came and went in the fourteen months I was on that machine. The only reason I stayed as long as I did was that I was working 12 hours a day, 7 days a week with little exception. That didn’t leave much time to look for a job.

I may not have liked that job, but I’ll admit that I learned more in those 14 months than I had learned in the last 14 years on my other machine. There is a lot of knowledge stored in my memory about that machine I hope I never have to recall. But, there is a lot I hope I’ll always remember. I hope I’ll remember that I can’t always have things my way. I hope I’ll always remember how discouraged I felt at being on a job I didn’t like and didn’t know anything about. I hope I remember how depressed I became when I was not a productive employee. I hope I’ll always remember how others gave me encouragement. Most of all I hope I’ll remember that through hard work, determination and a lot of Divine Intervention I not only made it through the tough times but I turned out to be a dog gone good operator to boot!

As it turned out, the worst part of that job was I had to work so many Sundays. Just remember, God does hear and answer our prayers, and He sometimes works in mysterious ways. Had I still been on the job I’d had for so many years (working four days each week with every weekend off) I wouldn’t have been willing to accept this opportunity when it came along. Before God could answer my prayer, He had to give me an attitude adjustment so I would be willing to accept His offer.

In the three years since I asked God to give me something else to do besides operate a machine, He’s done exactly that. Besides running a machine, I’ve served on the Southwire Chapel Committee, and the Donations Committee, the Southwire Initiative Board, and the Southwire Speakers Bureau. Besides running a machine, I became team leader for the Macedonia Builders for Christ and coordinated several building trips each year. In addition, I have been Vice-President, and am the current President of the Cleburne County Chamber of Commerce.

Looking back over the years, I can see how God has been preparing me for His answer to my prayer. It’s almost midnight, and right now, I feel a little overwhelmed by all the things I must do, and learn, about publishing a paper. But, I remember another time and another job when I had this same feeling, and I turned out to be a doggone good machine operator!

Part 2

Just Rambling

Just rambling is the heading I chose for this section because that’s just what it is. When writing articles for our paper, I wrote whatever was on my mind at the time. Please be patient when you read repetitive comments in some of the articles. Remember, these stories where written and printed first in the paper, and there could have been years between printings.

The stories contained in this section are in no particular order. I placed them, for the most part, randomly. Just ramble along with me, and see what memories come to mind as you read.

I Ain’t Stingy, Man. I’m Just Broke!

As Renee and I were going about our weekly business of selling ads, we pulled into a place called SIFAT in Randolph County, Alabama. If you are from that area, you are probably familiar with SIFAT, but if you’ve never heard of the place I’ll tell you what little I know about them. First of all SIFAT is an acronym for Servants in Faith and Technology. We took a little mini-tour there a couple of months ago and found out that people who do mission work in third world countries are often trained there. They have a community built there to resemble what you might find in some areas of the world. This was especially interesting to Renee and me since we had just returned from our mission trip to Honduras. Renee is even thinking of taking her Sunday School class of twenty-five, ten to fourteen year olds, there for a Friday night and Saturday experience.

Anyway, back in December SIFAT opened a store that sells products made in other parts of the world. They contacted us a while back to inquire about advertising, so we stopped by while we were in the area. After taking care of business, we began to browse through the store. There were some neat and unique stuff in there, like small handmade baskets, and some unusual cards made from leaves. There were brightly colored clothes hanging along the wall, and I supposed at least some of those to be articles of clothing from different parts of the world.

As we rambled around in the store, naturally we saw things we liked. We bought some Kudzu Honey that was produced nearby. Then we saw a little curio on the counter near the cashier. This item was carved from the byproduct of a plant. Joseph, the store proprietor, said it was the seed of a plant found in Ecuador. If I had known I would be writing a story about it I would have asked more questions. I believe Joseph said it was called jungle ivory, and it came from the seed of a particular Ecuadoran tree. It got its name because it has the same basic properties as ivory. It is an off-white color and is very, very smooth. It also appears to be about as hard as woodpecker lips. It was meticulously crafted, and the cost was $35; a very reasonable price for something so apparently time consuming. So, we bought it. No buyer’s remorse here, either!

As we left SIFAT, Renee started reflecting back to a few years ago, actually, quite a few years ago. She asked if I ever thought back to the times when, if we had spent an unbudgeted $35 what it would have really cost us. It would have caused us to be late on a payment, or possibly no groceries for a week. We began to recall some of the experiences we’ve had in the past, and I’m sure most of you can relate to some almost identical situations. Like the time when we first got married, and we made a bad decision and bought a truck we didn’t need. Before it was over and the truck was sold, we lived on banana sandwiches for lunch, and pinto beans and cornbread for supper. I still like pintos and bananas, but my digestive system just can’t take them every day of the week like it used to!

Renee and I both grew up in Cobb County, Georgia; then, when we got married, we lived in Paulding County in a trailer park for a couple of years. Everything was pretty comfortable for us there for the most part. We both worked, though neither of us made a lot of money on our jobs. We were buying a used house trailer and financed it for 3 years. We paid $6000 for it and we managed to pay the loan off a year early. Then we moved to Cleburne County, Alabama. This is where we wanted to be, but we didn’t realize the hardships of starting over, especially with a baby on the way.

When Charlie was six months old, I went to work at Southwire Company, and my starting pay was $3.51 per hour. Ralph Dodson was the person that hired me, and he would be my department manager. (I’m always appreciative of people that give me a chance.) As Renee and I reminisced, we could both remember how much our bills were at the time. We were paying for our little place that consisted of a trailer (this particular model wouldn’t be referred to as a manufactured home) and eighteen acres in Trickum Valley. The trailer was smaller than the one we had owned in Paulding County, even though our family was larger. Even after paying down most of the money we got from selling our old trailer, the payment was still $176 per month. We also had a truck payment of $73 per month. We had no hospitalization insurance when Charlie was born, so we were paying a little each month on doctor and hospital bills. The house and truck payment, along with the phone and the power bills came to about $310 per month, and we still had to have some groceries from time to time. When you multiply $3.51 per hour by 40 hours per week, you get $140.40 per week, before taxes. Factor in taxes and gas money and Renee only got $100 per week of my check to pay on $400 per month in expenses. How did we do it? We did it first, by the grace of God giving us good health, second, by determination. I worked second shift at Southwire, so in the mornings I worked for Orbie Garner and Kenneth Forsythe framing houses whenever I could. Another reason we made it was David Akers. Dave always had something for me to do at his house. Though he died a lot of years ago, I think about him often. He didn’t give me anything but an opportunity to help myself, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. While I was working for $3.51 at Southwire, Dave was paying me $5.00 an hour.

When Charlie was about a year old, Renee went to work as a library aide at Cleburne Elementary School. She only brought home $280 per month on her job and a baby sitter cost $80—$100 per month. That left maybe $50 per week clear out of her check. There were times when I thought we never would see daylight, but we just kept on scratching at it. We laughed when Renee starting remembering the time that she wanted some frilly panties for Charlie, who by now was about 2 years old. There was a store in Heflin that sold clothing for the whole family called the Family Tree. That’s where Renee saw the frilly panties. They were $2.50 and we couldn’t afford them. Believe it or not, she wanted our baby to have those pretty panties so much that she paid 50¢ a week on them until they were paid for. You know, if people were as persistent about getting the important things in life as Renee was about getting those frilly panties, there would be a lot more successful people in the world today. There would also be a lot more couples still married instead of divorced because they didn’t give up… they buckled down and made their marriage work.

I remember the second summer we lived in Trickum Valley. We had a big yard and a small lawn mower. I would push that mower ’til I gave out each week, and by the time I got everything cut, it would be time to start again. I got up one morning and told Renee I was going to buy a riding lawn mower. She laughed, and said OK. Well, she wasn’t laughing a couple of hours later when I drove up in the yard with a new Snapper riding mower on the back of my truck. She asked how in the world I bought a new riding mower, and how did I think I was going to pay for it! I told her that on the way to buy it I stopped at a few places and got enough grass cutting jobs to pay for it. And that is just what I did over the next year. Back in 1978 and 1979 the only people that hired their grass cut was old folks, so as soon as I got my mower paid for, I got out of the business. The hardest part about cutting grass was charging those old people for my time. I guess I was about 8 or 10 years ahead of the times because it just wasn’t much of a status symbol to hire somebody to cut your grass back then.

I also used to do a little dozer work on the side. I used to operate Larry Pullen’s dozer, and occasionally ran Bill Wise’s dozer. As a matter of fact, I saw Bill at the Feed Mill today and he asked if I had time to do a little dozer work for him now. A lot of the time I worked for Renee’s dad. When Renee was expecting Joe in 1982, I was on short time at Southwire. Johnny Brown and I ran the same machine, and at the time, it was only running two eight-hour shifts, four days per week. Renee’s dad was sowing grass on road right-of-ways in Chambers County, Alabama, and I would get up early on Friday mornings and drive to Lanette to work with him. He had a van body truck that he used for tools and storage and we also used it for a motel. We would work all day on Friday, find a place to shower and eat, sleep in the truck, then work on Saturday and come home on Saturday evening. That’s what kept up the bills while I was getting a skinny paycheck from Southwire.

Even through all the struggles, I’ve never worked on Sundays, other than the few times that Southwire scheduled me to work. One of the main reasons I left Southwire was because they shuffled me to a job that required me to work on Sunday pretty often.

I feel very blessed that Renee and I managed to raise two children and accomplish what we have in life. I give God the glory for all of it, but I don’t think that God would have blessed us if we hadn’t taken the initiative, and been willing to work. Nothing makes me angrier than to hear someone complain about their economic situation when they are not willing to work second jobs. I realize family time is important too, but if you can’t pay your bills, no one is happy at home, so there’s not a lot of quality time there. I Timothy 5:8 says, "But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith and is worse than an infidel."

I’m not the most frugal person I know, but I like a saying of Mr. John Campbell whose favorite daughter, Martha, just happens to work for the Advertiser. I think it went like this. Use it up, wear it out; make it do, or do without.

It used to be a real treat to eat out. I remember Renee would save up to take the kids somewhere special during the summer while they were out of school. Most of the time they packed a lunch, but occasionally she would tell them they could eat at McDonalds if everyone would drink water.

Things have really changed over the years. Probably the most notable change at our house is that when we all get to sit down at the table to eat a meal together it is a real treat!

Me and the Super A

Part I

Aren’t memories wonderful? Life could get stale and stagnant at times if we didn’t have some good memories to recall. The other day I had the opportunity to spend a little time with my friend, Stanley Miller. Eventually the conversation got around to tractors. That triggered a few childhood memories for me, and since most folks reading this grew up in agricultural areas, I would guess the word tractor makes your mind go into memory mode also.

Stanley made a comment about working on a Super A Farmall. That’s all it took. Daddy got me, and a Super A Farmall the same year. We were both 1953 models. I’ve always claimed to have cut my teeth on the steering wheel of that old tractor. Isn’t it odd, really, how inanimate objects such as tractors, cars, trucks and yes, motorcycles, can hold such sentimental attractions for us.

The first place I can remember living was on Burnt Hickory road in Marietta, Georgia. Daddy and Mother were renting the Carnes place, near Kennesaw Mountain. You would never know it now but that was farmland, too, about 50 years ago. Daddy worked at Lockheed Aircraft Company, but with five kids, and another on the way, he did whatever it took to provide for his family. Daddy was a blacksmith by trade, as he used to say, but he was a welder at Lockheed and also a part time farmer. My first recollections of life were on that little rented farm at the foot of Kennesaw Mountain.

Daddy worked the evening shift at Lockheed and was putting in a cotton crop in the mornings. One day just before lunchtime, I slipped away from the house and went across the field to where he was working. I can’t remember the details, but he had two tractors in the field. He was ready to quit for lunch and needed to get both tractors to the house. He got his Super A in the road, put me in the seat and said, When you get to the barn push this button to make it stop. Our driveway was probably only a hundred yards away, or less, but it looked like a mile. Just before turning in the driveway, I remember messing with the lift levers. I let the plows down and dug up some pavement on the road. It had not actually been paved very long, but I plowed some of it up. I also remember watching the convicts (as we used to call prisoners) patch the places I dug up. That was the summer before we moved from the Carnes place. We moved the following February, after I turned five in December. What was my daddy thinking, putting a four year old on a tractor? (I guess I must have shown a remarkable sense of responsibility even as a toddler!)

I still remember the lesson daddy gave my older brothers, Jesse and Don, on tractor starting safety. Those old Farmall’s had a six volts cranking system that seldom worked. That’s the reason the hand crank came with them as standard equipment. The lesson was simple: Make sure the tractor is out of gear. When you use the hand crank, always stand in front of the crank, and place your thumb on the same side of the handle as your fingers. In the event the engine kicks back, the crank won’t hit you, and it won’t break your thumb. That’s pretty good advice for strapping teenage boys, but if you’re nine, everything doesn’t apply. For instance, it is virtually impossible to stand in front of the hand crank to operate it if you weigh sixty pounds and have to strain to get the crank to the top of the cycle, then jump on it with your belly and ride it down to make it start! But I always remembered to put my thumb on the same side of the handle as my fingers, just in case. (I’ve often wondered what I would have looked like with my head sticking through the roof of the tractor shed if it had kicked back!)

Me and the Super A

Part II

One of my most vivid memories of the Super A and me was when I was about 13 or 14 years old. We were building some new pasture fences. Daddy had already gone into the pasture with the tamping rod and the hand hole diggers. I never remember having a gate on our property. We had gaps. For those of you unfamiliar with that term it simply means, A cheap, aggravating way to gain access into or out of the pasture. Anyway, daddy had opened the gap and walked over the hill while I got the tractor with the P.T.O. hole digger and followed. When I drove into the pasture, I got off the tractor to close the gap. In order for a gap to work properly, it has to stretch the wire good and tight when it’s closed. So, a gap that works well is very hard to close, especially for a young fellow. While I was struggling with the gap, the tractor started to roll. Momma saw it from the kitchen widow and read my mind. She started hollering, Don’t try to catch that tractor! Well, the first obstacle was a low hanging limb that took off the exhaust pipe then bent the steering wheel down to the seat. All the while, it is picking up speed as it goes down the hill and rolls between two twelve-inch pine trees that were so close I probably couldn’t have driven between them. A Super A Farmall is a uniquely built tractor. They were designed for one-row cultivation and had a high ground clearance. The engine is offset to the left side and, in addition to the plows in the rear, it also has a front lift so the operator could look right in front of his feet and watch as he plowed. As I watched everything move in slow motion, I saw the tractor hit another pine tree just to the right of the engine. The steering sector broke in half and when the tractor came to a stop the engine was sitting on the ground, and the right front wheel was under the brake pedals.

I walked on down to the crash site and pushed that little button in to shut the engine off. I sat on the ground beside the tractor with my head in my hands and waited for the inevitable. As Daddy came back across the hill, I was bracing for the whipping I knew was coming. I’m not one to delay bad stuff when I know it is coming so I said, Go ahead and whip me and get it over with. Now my daddy was never known for saying stupid stuff, but he did that day: There’s no need to give you a whipping now, it’s already done. I’m sitting there trying to remember any time that I received my chastisement before I committed the transgression. If he had always maintained that attitude, I would have gotten a lot fewer whippings!

For some reason, Daddy thought buying anti-freeze for a tractor was frivolous. Whenever we used the tractor in the wintertime, we had to carry water and pour in it, then drain the radiator and the block when we put it up. Thank the Lord, I was married and gone before the block froze and cracked. If memory serves me well, I think I still got to carry at least partial blame for that incident.

Daddy sold that tractor shortly after replacing the block. I believe he always regretted that decision. In the mid 1990’s he started trying to find another one. There were a few around, but most were pretty worn out, and overpriced. One day at Bearden’s Tractor and Equipment, I saw a Kubota tractor built on the same design as that old Super A. I called Daddy and he came and worked up a trade with Gregg. He never did much