Cops, Jungles, and Santa Claus
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About this ebook
The Author has had an exciting life. This work is a summation of Larry's many exciting adventures:In actual contacts (conflicts) with our police and highway patrol; In the Jungles of Africa; In College; As a salesman; Life in General; and as Santa Claus.
The stories are true, and when there is an occasional variation from the truth for the sake of excitement, Larry will give you the honest facts.
The stories share exciting experiences that are worth sharing; Morals that are worth re-telling; and numerous events that you will enjoy reading more than once. Many readers willl find this book a special gift to pass along to relatives and friends.
Because Larry loves to tell jokes, many of his favorites (clean jokes) are found betweenthe chapters of his life.
Larry D. Flora
Larry D. Flora, author, was born in Oshkosh, NE. at age 2 he moved to Liberia, West Africa. His father became a missionary (preacher, teacher, and builder) for the Lutheran Church. Larry lived from 1838-'50 in the Jungles 45 miles from the end of the automobile road. His education was correspondence teaching through Calavert School, in Baltimore, MD., supervised by his parents. In 1951, Larry moved to San Jose, CA. He graduated from Lincoln High, Midland College, Fremont, NE, and earned his Masters in Theology at Pacific Lutheran Seminary, Berkeley, CA After three excellent years as a pastor, Larry chose his profession: Sales. He excelled in this profession as salesman, manager, and national trainer until his retirement in 2002.
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Cops, Jungles, and Santa Claus - Larry D. Flora
© 2008 Larry D. Flora. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First published by AuthorHouse 3/19/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4343-5312-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4343-5313-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4678-6562-3 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2007909978
Table of Contents
Section One —
My Adventures With Officers Of The Law
My Very First Experience With A City Cop
I Met My First Highway Patrol Officer
San Jose Passed A Curfew
The Highway Patrolman Who Thought His Fellow Officers Might Be Prejudiced
The Highway Patrolman, Who Dared Take Me In
The Highway Patrol Officer, Took Me To The Hospital
The City Cop Who Cried On The Job Or, The Saddest Experience Of My Life
The Highway Patrol Officer Pray
The Highway Patrolman I Never Meet
The Highway Patrolman Who Laughs On The Job...
Extra
Section Two —
I Really Should Begin At The Beginning
I Changed A Flat Tire—And—I Made Myself A Promise
Speeding Down I–5 At 90+ Mph
Giving My Car Away
Cannot Speak To Each Other
Oops, Perhaps I Made A Mistake
The Women With Car Trouble – Or – The Mechanic From San Mateo
The Kids From Europe
Section Three —
Going Back Even Further —
I Grew–Up In Africa
My Mommy Is Unfair
Going To Two Schools At Once
My Own Brand Of Medicine
A Real
Gentleman
Adventures With My Canoe
I Was A Champion Without Recognition
Don’t Ever Ask Me To Write Another Story
The Wife Beater
Section Four —
Favorite Sales Events....
My Most Embarrassing Experience
The Most Expensive Mobile Home In The Country
When To Keep Your Mouth Shut
Shopping At A Livestock Auction
The Sale I Tried Not To Make
The Greatest Sale’s Contest– Ever!
There Is More Than One Way To Skin A Cat
I Fired The Owner
Section Five —
Some Personal Stories
Do Right
The Lesson I Never Learned
The Lesson I Never Learned Ii
Prayer Is Powerful
And I Thought I Wanted To Teach
Me And My Cross
Even Taxi Drivers Can Say Thank You
I Am Santa Claus
Two Seven-Year-Old Boys
Do It My Way
Two Eighteen–Year–Old Girls
My First $20.00 Tip
Third, Fourth, Or Fifth Grade Girls
The Happiest Boy I Held
Just Two & Two Days Old
Preface
Let me tell you just a little about this book. With the exception of the jokes/humor and words of wisdom between the chapters, I have chosen to write a book about many of the exciting, wonderful, events of my life. The facts are true. In most cases, names have been left out. because they are not important to the story.
An occasional deviation from the truth is un–intentional and most likely that the years may have dulled the memory slightly. There are a few situations where I have added to my story, or slightly changed it to increase the humor or make a point. I will inform you of these known departures from the truth.
My profession of choice was sales. I spent thirty-five years as a salesman, manager of sales personnel, and national sales trainer.
As a salesman, I have always loved telling jokes. I have included a few of my favorite stories at the end of each experience.
~~~~~~~~~~
SECTION ONE —
MY ADVENTURES WITH OFFICERS OF THE LAW
Police officers are real people. Sometimes this statement may be hard to believe. Especially when you have just received a ticket that obviously: You did not deserve! There were lots of other drivers driving faster or more reckless than I was.
What about those videos taken of police brutality
or the hard, violent, almost cruel way they act and talk, even when just arresting someone for a petty crime? Call 911 when there is a small fight at school and the rough way everyone gets treated by the police when they arrive. It makes you wonder if people have any rights at all – especially teenagers!!!
Considering that our police officers in their line of work, deal more often with the criminal element, thieves, delinquents, law breakers, mal-adjusted, the unhappy, and the problems of society than they ever do with the citizens who bend over backwards to do most things right. Considering that their job alone forces them into repeated daily situations with people (including yourself) who have broken some law or infringed on someone’s rights. And, realizing that we are all creatures of our environment, the fact remains that the daily life of our law enforcement personnel is one of the worst environments of our society.
It is truly a wonder that any humanity
can ever be found left among the members of our police force. Never–the–less, our police officers are still people. They have families. They have children whom they love. They go to school activities. They go to church. They hunt, fish, go to football and baseball games. They can smile and laugh. They even help their neighbors. They are real people with real feelings, and most of them are able to leave the negativeness of their job behind when they leave work. Some of them can even be pleasant when doing the work they do. Their work is negative, yet many of them maintain a positive attitude
**********************************************************
Note of interest: In the 1940’s when cars were quite new to the dirt roads of Liberia, Africa, there was one major traffic law — He who honks first is right!
**********************************************************
While shopping for vacation clothes, my husband and I passed a display of bathing suits. It had been at least ten years and twenty pounds since I had even considered buying a bathing suit, so I sought my husband’s advice.
What do you think?
I asked. Should I get a bikini or an all-in-one?
Better get a bikini,
he replied. You’d never get it all in one.
He’s still in intensive care!
**********************************************************
My Very First Experience with a City Cop
I was seventeen years young, a High School senior, and defensive back on our school football team. Practice on Monday afternoons was usually a little lighter than on other days. I don’t know if the coach had a date, or if he had a compassion for our sore muscles because we had won a tough game two days before.
The reason is not important. I just know that Monday, football practice was mostly drills and brushing up on our plays and signals. We always left early. It was the same time every Monday, about 5:00 p.m. I remember well, on one particular Monday: Shortly after I had driven out of the school parking lot in my Model A, I realized that the car in front of me, an open red convertible, was being driven by a young blonde woman. Interestingly, she was going the same way I was going. Every time I made a turn, she had made the same turn just ahead of me.
After over a mile of this follow–the– leader driving,
I noticed that I had a city cop on my tail. That did not bother me. I was not breaking any traffic laws. I was just going home. That is – until he stopped me! (Two blocks from home!)
The cop did not ask for my license. He did not ask for my name. He did not ask where I was going. In fact, he did not say anything, even when I rolled my window down and asked him what the problem was. He just stood there, foot on my running board, looking at me, and occasionally up the street.
Finally, he said: I don’t like the idea of you following an un-escorted woman especially, if she is blonde, young, and good looking. She’s gone now. You can go.
He just walked back to his car. I never got a chance to say a word or defend my actions, and say: Officer, I’m just going home!
Exactly one week later on Monday afternoon about 5:00 p.m., I found myself driving along behind the same open, red convertible. And, it was being driven by what I believed to be the same blonde (or her twin sister). Believe it or not, it was not long until the same city cop pulled in behind me.
She turned; I turned; she went straight; so did I. Naturally, so did that cop! We went on this way for almost two miles, until that policeman could take it no longer. He pulled me over across the street from my home.
I hadn’t even turned the engine off, and that officer was beside my window giving me a lecture about following unescorted blondes. When he finally stopped to take a breath and to demand my license, I said, Officer, I am just going home.
I pulled out into the street away from the officer and made a left turn into my driveway. I got out and pointed to the sign on the garage which said: Lutheran Parsonage,
turned and walked into my home.
I sneaked a peek from behind the curtain, out the front window. The cop walked across the street, stood there a moment looking at the sign, got into his patrol car, and drove away. Whew! I had visions of that officer coming up to my front door and giving me a ticket. I had no idea what else he might have done. I know I was still shaking when my mother asked me: ‘What’s going on?"
Oh, nothing,
I replied, I’m probably just going to jail!
I thought, or at least hoped, that was the end of it all.
But no...Three weeks later, there I was behind that same red car. We came to a stop sign. I noticed that the same city policeman was parked across the street. I honked and then waved at him. He smiled. He honked. And he waved back.
Wow! Policemen ARE real people. They know how to act human, be gracious, and even smile! They do care about others.
Story No. One — fini
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well it almost happened that way...The truth: There is no way that I, at the age of 17, would ever have driven away from a policeman standing at the door of my car!
What actually happened when I was stopped in front of my home: I sat there in silent patience through the entire lecture. I handed the officer my driver’s license when it was requested. I even said nothing while he discovered that the address on my license was exactly the same as that of the house across the street.
The truth is that I was not brave enough to do anything different! When the officer asked me if I was just going home I said, Yes,
and that was all there was to it.
I kinda like the way I told the story though, didn’t you?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
While driving in Pennsylvania, a family caught up to an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humor, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand printed sign...
"Energy efficient vehicle–runs on oats and grass.
Caution: Do not step in exhaust!"
*****************************************
This particular community had a problem with speeders on one stretch of road, most of them youth. The city assigned a cop to monitor that stretch of road. He sat behind a large bill board sign most of the afternoon. Finally, a young man came speeding down the road. The cop stopped him saying, I have been waiting all day, just for you.
The lad replied, Sorry Sir, I came as fast as I could.
***************************************************************
A man is recovering from surgery when the Surgical Nurse appears and asks him how he is feeling. I’m O.K. but I didn’t like the four-letter-word the doctor used in surgery,
he answered. What did he say,
asked the nurse. OOPS
***************************************************************
a few months later...
I Met My First Highway Patrol Officer
Our church high school youth group had gone to San Francisco, from San Jose, (about thirty miles away) to attend a special youth rally. We had a rule at our church: No one under the age of twenty–five was ever allowed to drive on youth outings.
The problem was we were short one driver that day.
One of the adults going along said we could use her car, but she did not like driving any distance on the highway. It was okay with her; Would the other leaders mind? Would I please drive her car? No problem. I was glad to be given that responsibility. I have always loved to drive! The offer was approved. I had an honor which I gladly accepted.
Our San Francisco youth activity ended late that Sunday afternoon. We found ourselves stuck in traffic with fans going home after the Giant’s ball game at Candlestick Park.
Most of them, going the same way - toward San Jose.
[To give you the proper perspective: This happened in 1954. There were no freeways in the San Francisco Bay Area. We were driving on Old El Camino Real
— Highway 101.
The speed limit was 35 mph most of the way from San Francisco to San Jose, even though there were four lanes of highway. There were cross roads and sometimes traffic lights.]
As we went through Palo Alto in the slow lane, I noticed that a highway patrol car was following directly behind us. I commented on the facts: I was traveling about 45 mph. I was a safe distance behind the car in front of me. [In fact, the space between me and that car was more than any of the other cars on the road were maintaining behind the cars in front of them.] The other cars were all driving "bumper–to–bumper as if that way they could get where they were going faster. Plus, all of the cars in the left lane were passing me at speeds of 52-55 miles per hour.
I asked the woman sitting in the back seat, the lady who owned the car: Should I slow down? I am driving ten miles per hour faster than the maximum speed limit, AND there is a patrol car right on my tail!
She replied: You’re driving safely. No, just keep driving like you are.
Two miles passed. We came to an area with a fairly wide shoulder. On came the red lights. I got pulled over. I stopped, and started to get out. The officer yelled at me to stay in the car. The officer took my driver’s license through the window. He proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes giving me a lecture about reckless kids, speeding, endangering the lives of the five other people in my car, and others on the road, not slowing down and obeying the speed limit, even when he pulled behind me.
{This was one experience worth noting: After his lecture the officer asked me why I had not slowed down to the 35 mph speed limit when I saw him behind me. I replied, Sir, I usually try to drive the speed of the traffic, as safely as possible, whether a police car is following me or not.
} I should have kept my big mouth shut! That answer brought a tirade of criticism about my being just another smart-aleck teenager with a car full of kids speeding down the highway!
The officer ended his tirade by:
1. Giving me a ticket for speeding.
2. Telling me that he was going to follow me for the next five plus miles and if I did not slow down and drive the speed limit, he was going to give me another ticket. He was only sorry that he could not ticket me for my rebellious, smart–aleck
attitude.
Off we went at 35 mph!!!
The woman behind me asked, May I see the ticket?
I replied: I’ll pay my own fine.
Just let me see it,
she said. I gave her the ticket. She put it in her purse. When we reached our church in San Jose, I asked for my ticket back. The answer I received was: I’ll take care of this. There will be no fine.
Finally, I gave in. I just couldn’t knock the woman down and raid her purse. So, I gave up.
I told my father (the pastor) about it later. He said that I should not worry. She knew what she was doing.
Two weeks later, I received a letter of apology from the highway patrol officer. He apologized for being rude, for stopping me, when I was driving in a model
fashion, for giving me a ticket that I did not deserve, and for all of his unkind remarks.
I learned later that the woman who sat in the seat behind me that day was the private secretary to the Superior Court Judge of the county in which I had been stopped. I also learned that the Judge called this patrolman into his court room and chastised him in front of his court for a full fifteen minutes. The Judge then demanded that the officer write me a letter of apology. He also required that a copy of this letter be placed on the public bulletin board in the hall, for all to see. It was to remain there for one full week!
[I wish I still had the letter to share. I kept it for many years. How it got thrown away is another story.]
While I have never researched the statistics. I do believe that teenagers have many more automobile accidents, moving violations, and problems with the law than any other age group.
I believe that the officer was aware of this. He saw a car full of teenage youth breaking the speed limit. Every car on the road was speeding. He needed to ticket someone. What better car to stop than ours.
Police officers are REAL PEOPLE. They can jump to conclusions. They can make mistakes. They can get caught for their actions. They can apologize. They can suffer from their superiors. In many respects, I felt sorry for that officer. The humiliation he was forced to endure was many times worse than mine. Of course, I was pleased to pay no fine.
Story No. Two — fini
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was not going to tell you, but I will. You win. This is the story of what happened to the letter from that highway patrol officer...
It began when I was eight years old,