In the lull between the busyness of the holidays and the craziness of getting back to work (reading hundreds of emails) at the beginning of the new year when news is relatively sparse, I thought it might be fun for V14ers to tell some funny CLEAN stories that either happened to the commenter or were heard during the holidays. Even clean jokes are allowed
I know a lot of folks had to work during and after the holidays, including my son and son-in-law, so just join in the fun with any stories you want to share.
I’ll start.
Two of my wonderful, teenage grandkids drove up from CT to take me to their house on Christmas Eve to stay for several days. I would generally drive down with my son who lives in Newton, but he was in the holiday rotation to work second shift in the micro lab that night and wasn’t coming until after he got off at 11 PM. This story actually happened the first time Jack drove here earlier this year.
I live on Bridges Avenue, up from Cabot School and It’s taken a while for the map direction apps, Google and Waze, to catch up to the changes made to the roads around the new School. For those who don’t know, one street was closed, another now dead ends into Cabot Park, Bridges, which is one-way, has switched directions and now there are two signs at the intersection of Norwood and Bridges – one says one way street, the other no exit – or something to that effect.
Waze told him drive into the park since it thought the street still continued that way. Next it told him to go down a street that wasn’t there anymore. Then it directed him to turn onto Bridges from Cabot Street meaning he would be going the wrong way on a one-way Street. Since he was an annoyed 17 yo and could see the house from there – that’s exactly what he did.
I asked why he didn’t just park and text me for directions – first he said he trusted Waze which led me to raise an eyebrow, then he said didn’t need any help – he was here wasn’t he. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
As I’m writing I’m wondering if maybe this story was only funny to me since you cannot see the looks his face took or the tone of his replies.
So I guess any clean story is acceptable.
Have at it!!
A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside. “That laundry is not very clean; she doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”
Her husband looks on, remaining silent.
Every time her neighbor hangs her wash to dry, the young woman makes the same comments.
A month later, the woman is surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and says to her husband: “Look, she’s finally learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this? ”
The husband replies, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”
And so it is with life… What we see when watching others depends on the clarity of the window through which we look
The Passing of the Pinball – a pinball machine has always been part of my life since college. As a freshman engineering student I had to do a design project. A friend and I went to a pinball machine dealer in Dedham and talked them into giving us an old pinball machine for the project. We retrofitted the machine so it could be used by paraplegics and quadraplegics.
Ever since I’ve always had one pinball machine or another at our house and they got lots of use with all our friends.
When we moved to Newton 10 years ago we had no where hospitable to put the machine so it ended up in our cramped laundry room. Since then it has got just about no use.
Friday four of us loaded the beast into a rented pickup truck and moved it to the garage of my friend’s daughter and her young family’s house in Walpole.
Last night they had a big party. They recruited their young fit friends to wrestle it down into their finished basement – a perfect setting for the machine.
It was plugged in, turned on, and all the young kids and adults came running. For lots of the kids they were very excited since they had never seen anything like it before.
Revenge From Mars now lives on and has just been rejuvenated with new blood. I look forward to many trips to Walpole to rejuvenate my own atrophied pinball skills.
@Jerry – I’m glad you meant passing along and not (as I first read it) passing away! So cool that your project was to make pinball accessible. A college engineering friend of mine made his early career working in the pinball industry until it was no longer a viable way to make a living.
@Meredith – We became extremely proficient playing this game with the quadriplegic headset after many many hours of play. We used this to great effect when we took it to a national design competition in Colorado.
There were lots of more impressive designs for all sorts of things that we were competing with. We just wheeled in the pinball machine, put up a sign and challenged all comers to a game – we would play with the headset and they would play with normal flippers. We whooped nearly everyone, had a line of people waiting to play all day long, and came home with a prize.
Cheap trick triumphs yet again.
Jerry, you made this up, right? I bet your new year resolution is “Keep telling great stories”.
Absolutely not. I would never lie about Revenge From Mars. I think I’ll have to take you on a field trip to Walpole.
This isn’t from this year, but the approach to New Year’s Eve always makes me nostalgic for the grand NYE road trip my first year of college, 1975/76. Several of us East Coasters had heard that our friend in Cleveland always had the best NYE parties and decided to attend. Another Cleveland friend offered to let us crash at her home, with her mother’s wonderful Italian hospitality.
We made the trek in a 1959 Edsel station wagon (friend’s father collected them on a Penn. farm aptly named “The Lemon Grove”). It was old enough that the car radio ran on tubes and had to warm up before it would work. The looks on the toll takers’ faces were priceless – they couldn’t believe what they were seeing! The party was good, but the ride was the best part.
That looks like a mighty fine ride for a road trip.
I’m guessing since your trip was after the 1970’s oil embargo, that 1950’s gas mileage for that big old boat must have cost you a fortune.
Many years ago, the Boston Globe had an essay contest to talk about an unusual holiday tradition, so I submitted the essay below. As an adult now living in Newton, I still bring treats to the Newton Police every Christmas Eve. BTW I won first prize.
The Boston Globe OnlineBoston.com
The Mitzvah Squad
As the daughter of a rabbi in Auburn, Maine, I participated in a family and community tradition up until seven years ago, when my father passed away. On Christmas Eve, the Auburn police operated on a skeleton crew. Not only were the police officers on duty away from their families, but the station was a lonely place.
My father, Rabbi XXX XXXXX, organized a program within the Jewish community where we would ride with the police officers on Christmas Eve and bring food and baked goods to the station. I rode with a police officer, keeping him company until the wee hours of the morning. This tradition became such an important part of my life that throughout my college years, single life, and even after marriage I would go back to Auburn on Christmas Eve to ride with the police.
I will never forget how grateful these police officers were for our presence. The lessons I learned regarding the true spirit of the holiday season, as well as an appreciation for the people who protect us, will stay with me forever.
Dr. XXXXXXXXX
Newton
Great stories everyone. Thanks for joining in.
I have a quite a few car stories – here’s one. Don’t judge!
On my 16th birthday, my dad gave me a 1964 yellow Buick Skylark with simulated wire wheels (wire hub caps) which was later dubbed by my friends as the yellow streak – let’s just say I’m glad there was no such thing as the 360 app or a GPS app to see how your kid was driving back then. Except when a drunk driver hit me head on swerving into my lane. The car was totaled – thankfully I was not.
With the settlement, Dad got me a 1967 dark blue, Skylark coupe which had much better lines with the same simulated wire wheels.
My dad was a do what you want, don’t you get caught, and feign innocence if you do, a question authority and an apologize later rather than ask up front kind of a guy. At least until I came along but by then it was too late so he just gave in.
He let me take the yellow car to my frosh year in college – not allowed – if I could find a place to keep it safe. [I did but the hub caps were stolen over the years 6 times.)
In fact taking the car, along with other bribes persuaded me to go to the family university and cheer for the dawgs – University of Georgia – which I ended up loving mainly because I could work on one of the three largest existing units supercomputers – turning down Vanderbilt and Radcliffe which he thought were too far away.
So after the totaling of the yellow car, the blue one got to come to college. Except after a couple of years, I was sitting still, along with three friends getting a ride home, waiting for some dude to turn left along with many others on a main throughway out of Athens, GA when some kid who had dropped a cigarette and was trying to pick it up while driving 60 mph – slammed into the back of me knocking me into oncoming traffic and a tractor trailer truck. Again car totaled, friends and I ok. Divine Provence?
This time my dad used the settlement to get me a 1968 green Skylark GS400 – Buick’s only muscle car. Never had another crash and drove that car until 1973.