WHBU 1240 AM

We at the Franklin home are getting ready to move. It’s only 2-miles, but they are mighty big miles. Our “new” home was built during the Clinton administration, the “old” home during the short term of James Garfield. I’m excited about the new home, the neighbors, rural setting, and updated wiring. The problem is the “stuff.”

My lovely wife, Angie, doesn’t really keep things. Oh, there is the occasional card or photograph. But, as a completely random example, she doesn’t have old reel-to-reel tapes from college. I’ve never seen her saving old radio station t-shirts, for example. Boxes of business cards for places she has worked hold no special fascination for her.

What strikes me odd in sorting all my old “stuff” is how sentimental I am about things I’ve not seen since the last move. We opened a box, a 1980’s time capsule, full of old high school things. “Oh, I can’t throw THIS away,” I said. If it was gone, would I really have missed the term paper on Spencer Tracy or photos of friends with names I can’t…quite…recall?

The biggest piece of “stuff” is my bicycle. A perfect 1970’s Huffy Santa Fe. If you were to look carefully you’d see the flat tires, peeling paint, and slightly rusty chain. My eyes, though, see it as THE bike of my childhood and I remember the day as though it were yesterday. When it was replaced by a moped, car, and even another bike it was still the first taste of independence.

In a few weeks the “old” home will be filled with new memories and new people. They will bring their stuff to hang on the walls of the garage and fill the cupboards in the kitchen. But, if you come to our new house and visit, you may notice an aging bicycle hanging on the garage wall. Some “stuff” is to important to throw away…

Oh, if Angie asks you about the bike, tell her you brought it.

A recent article from Fort Knox, Kentucky has a gentleman suing a truck stop for serving him hot coffee…which he spilled into his lap.  Claiming ‘pain and suffering’ he’s hoping for a quick settlement, new seat covers, and a warning label.  “Coffee is hot.”

My birthday present this year was a Craftsman Circular saw, with a laser sight.  There are 11-PAGES of warnings and “don’t.”  Remember the old paragraph which congratulated you on the purchase of this fine item which promises to give you years of service?  My Circular saw gave me no such note.  It contains stern warnings about using it in the rain, wearing safety gear, and the blades being sharp.  Honestly, what moron WOULD use a Circular saw while bathing?  “Honey, could you bring me some 2X4’s so I can build a quick deck while I’m in the tub?”

Warning labels have gone to extremes to protect the company from a lottery which rewards stupid behavior.  My lawnmower advises me not to use it to trim hedges.  A lawyer friend confirmed that, indeed, two guys were holding a running lawnmower by the wheels, and trimming hedges.  They were injured, won the lawsuit, and hence, the warning.

Blow torches warn not to use while sleeping, pills for sleeping warn of drowsiness, and shirts warn you not to iron them while wearing them.  Chainsaws warn about stopping the chain with your hands, printer toner warns you not to eat it, and my windshield cover warns me to remove it BEFORE driving.

There is one warning I’ll leave you with, which is advice we can all use.  Maybe it should be the warning label for life.  On a “Bobcat” style tractor, under the image of a little man, it simply says, “DO NOT DIE.”  I’m going to do my best to follow that one…