"Don't Touch That Dial", y'all.

 Usually on Saturday mornings at the coffeehouse, the younger baristas man the counter and the drive-up window. Mary, the "don't call me a barista!" barista, usually opens the place just before seven. Mario, the only male that has ever worked at GiddyUp follows shortly after and turns on the radio on Sirius to a rather "alternative" scene. It's not head bashing or heavy metal grooves, but for drinking coffee and trying to ease into the morning, it is a bit... odd!

Between 8am and 9am, the girls stroll in, and I can tell by what's on the radio by who has control of those "dials!"

The older ladies prefer the Fifties and Sixties. In that rotation is always Etta James, "A Sunday Kinda Love" even though it is Saturday. You know, Frankie Baby, Peggy Lee, Johnny Mathis, Sara Vaughn, etc.

Laura, who only now works on Saturday afternoons, always played the Beatles catalogue with a few Beach Boy tunes thrown in. I love it!

Madison, who is an early morning staple, doesn't really have a particular favorite though I can tell when she changes the channel. By her own admission, she likes music that one can "study by!"

Mary says, "Maddie, play some music, but nothing "too sleepy!"

When Isabella, the woman who had a radio program called "Girls Up Front!" arrives, suddenly, there's this ethereal, celestial, sounds, heavy with breathy reverb that, in a way, seems too perfect for this world!

Everyone is copacetic with the choices of the morning until someone goes on break...

"Quick, Mario's away, change the channel!"

No one 'cept Sandra and Mary understood my reference to the living room battles created when someone got up to change the TV channel only to lose their favorite chair in the process.

Ah, the good ole days!

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"Piddily Pat!"

"Heartbeat, why do you skip when my baby kisses me?"

 Well, Good Saturday Morning, all bodies.

On Thursday, a cute, young nurse whose struggling with expectations of being a "baseball mom", pulled away the bandages and cleaned the area that now house my new timing device. We had fun sharing baseball stories with her.

One week earlier, I was also being entertained, at five in the morning, by another young nurse who was prepping me for my pacemaker. She was short, with long brown hair, intense eyes and a rather unique accent that Tee or I could not quite place, though she was a native of Louisiana.

It had a touch of Texas, I think!

Anyway, she's pulling away wrapping, wiping here and there with some alcohol solution, stripping away more plastic coverings to more pads, bandaids and such and depositing the many sterile debris in the first accessible place available...my crotch!

Intense in her endeavors, I try to ignore the loose fitting gown's depository that she keeps adding more stuff too.

"How many times a day do you have to go through this prepping routine," I ask.

Not missing a beat, she replies,"Oh, about ten times a day...You're the first this morning!"

"All before a "first cup"?

"Yes," she says, I have to be here early to prepare myself for the day!"

"Whoa" I said. I didn't have time for a cup either."

"Guess I'm not supposed to anyway!"

Then, her job completed, she grabs all the medical debris housed in that gown's depression and kinda stirs it all around with her hands attempting to grab it all in one fell swoop.

Oh, I thought, I think I'm in love! But, all too soon she is gone before I could express my real feelings.

Guess there was no time for "thank you's" as another nurse, probably the senior head nurse, arrived to stick some more needles in my arm.

She stuck around long enough for me to thank her!

When that nurse left, the younger one reappeared with a battery powered shaver. Thankfully, it automatically shuts off when the trigger is released and she gently places the device in you know where!

Therese and I had a few chuckles over those early morning scenarios.

"Babe, it's a good thing that I didn't have a first cup OR have time to apply my daily dose of testosterone, whew!"

Every now and then, I know it's kinda hard to tell, but I'm still alive and well...Second cup

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

Therese's Brother... Living Large!

Therese's Priestly Bro!

Very sorry to report that Therese's big brother and Redemptorist priest, Fr. Gerard LaPorte, passed away on Friday, last week. Gerard was 85 years old and spent his last year at St. Clements, 300 Liguori Dr, Barnhart, MO which is not far from St. Louis.

Last September, in addition to revisiting St. Louis for more stem cell injections, we got to spend a few days with Gerard at the Mission. He seemed to enjoy his new home and the time spent with other retired Redemptorist clergy. Gerard was always a people person. He will be missed by the many folks he met and served over the years in the Irish Channel, as well as, Tee and me!

Gerard Bernard LaPorte was born in New Orleans, LA, on January 28, 1939. He and his siblings grew up around the Redemptorists at St. Alphonsus Parish, and their uncle, Alphonse Abadie, was ordained as a Redemptorist priest in 1942. After graduating from St. Alphonsus School, young Gerard entered St. Joseph’s Preparatory Seminary in Kirkwood, MO. An exceptional student with natural leadership skills, he was quite popular and a source of entertainment for his classmates, who enjoyed his wit and antics. He proceeded to novitiate at Mount St. Clement’s in DeSoto, MO and professed temporary vows on August 2, 1960. Gerry professed perpetual vows on September 2, 1963 and was ordained to the priesthood by Bishop Thomas William Murphy, C.Ss.R., D.D. at Immaculate Conception Seminary Chapel on June 29, 1965.

He had many accomplishments and assignments during his years as a Redemporist. He studied in Rome for a master’s degree in Canon Law at the Angelicum. He returned to the United States with his degree in 1968 and was appointed to the faculty of Mount St. Alphonsus Redemptorist Theologate in Esopus, NY. In addition to Canon Law, he served in the Liturgy and Comparative Religion Departments and was Director of The Collarmen Seminarian music ministry outreach. Fr. Gerry was named assistant pastor of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church in Corpus Christi, TX, in 1972. He enjoyed pastoral ministry, and was instrumental in helping the Diocese of Corpus Christi reorganize its Matrimonial Tribunal. Three years later, he was appointed pastor of Holy Rosary Church and superior of the local community in Houma, LA. During the next six years, he helped the Diocese of Houma–Thibodaux organize a Marriage Preparation Program and served as a Matrimonial Tribunal Judge and as a member of the Arbitration Board.

Fr. Gerry was so respected by his confreres that they elected him to serve as a Consultor on the Vice Provincial Council in 1981. While serving in leadership during the next six years, he was involved in ministry planning and served as local community superior, Vocation Director and Bursar for the Vice Province of New Orleans. He served as rector and director of Holy Redeemer in Lacombe, LA during the 1986-1987 school term, and then returned to parish ministry at St. Alphonsus Parish in New Orleans, where he remained for the next 35 years. Fr. Gerry was involved in many outreach ministries serving people in need, including Beginning Experience and Caring Companions. He served on the Matrimonial Tribunal and as an Appellate Judge for the Archdiocese of New Orleans, and as a Chaplain for PEACE (Eucharistic Adoration Chapels). He volunteered for the Family Life Apostolate and earned a Master’s in Education in Counseling from the University of New Orleans in 1994, at the age of 55.

Fr. Gerry was an animating presence in the St. Alphonsus community and is remembered for reading the Times-Picayune cover-to-cover every morning and watching Jeopardy every afternoon. It was no surprise that he correctly answered most of the questions asked of contestants. He loved everything about his hometown, and was such an avid fan of the New Orleans Saints that his doctor prohibited him from watching the games to help keep his blood pressure in check.

A compassionate confessor and spiritual director, Fr. Gerry was an insightful counselor for all who sought his wisdom. Although Fr. Gerry was granted retirement status in 2009, he continued to celebrate Masses at nearby nursing homes and preside at funerals for the faithful in New Orleans until health issues necessitated his move to St. Clement’s Redemptorist Mission Community in Barnhart, MO, in 2022.

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"Capturing The Moment"...

 Good Morning Wednesday, y'all.

Yesterday morning driving out of 'da Bayou, I paused to put on my seatbelt and to my amazement discovered a blue heron skulking around the shallow part of the front pond. We seldom get visits from waterfowl, ducks, herons and egrets and every time we do, I am unprepared to record the visit. I just knew by the time I got iPhone out to photograph the bird, it would be disturbed and fly away.

But, not this time. The heron was obviously stalking prey, and just like seen on "Wild Kingdom", it finally flung its beak into the pond and pulled out a small fish. It gave the fish a shake or two and in short time, swallowed breakfast, spread its wings and glided on to the next tasty endeavor.

The camera never left my front pocket.

Working on my second cup at Giddy Up, a woman unloads her briefcase full of papers, her cellphone and computer directly across and facing me. We couldn't help not seeing one another, stealing glances from each other as we went about our business.

I noticed one of those glances as particularly intriguing, and then I could not stop looking at her. She kept flinging her long black hair as she spoke on the phone and then, flung it away again and again switching from one device to another.

But, one full fledged fling tilted her head to the right which elongated the length of those ebony locks, rather seductively over her shoulder and down toward the black covered computer.

For whatever reason, she held that pose for a minute or two. I decided it was time to pull out my iPhone just in case she did that one or two more times. I lost my chance with the big heron, I wasn't gonna miss another chance to capture the moment... I was visually seduced.

But, she never did!

Ten minutes after she picked up her mobile office, she acknowledged me with a smile, nodded and left, I decided to capture the moment as fleeting and futile as it seemed.

Inspiration is like that. A charcoal stick was messy, but the perfect tool for the task... that, and, a kneaded eraser.

Still hoping for another cup!

Copyright 2024/BenBensenIII

"Will I Ever See You Again?"

 Well, I really have no one to blame but myself. Three Wednesdays ago, I received a third “invite” to visit my urologist. At first, it was with the phone call. Then, a text message. Both of each, I ignored. Finally, through My Chart, the front desk requested an interview of some sort.

At last, I walk through the door of the doctor’s office and is handed a list of pages I am suppose to fill out.

“Ma’am, why do I need to fill these forms out?” You guys have been harassing me for over a month and therefore, I assume you have all the information you need on me!”

“I’m sorry,” is all she said.

“Yeh, me too!”

Signed, sealed and delivered, I was seated in one of the rooms after another inquisition and a good pee in a cup, I await the urologist, and peruse the many interesting models and all the wonderful things that could go wrong with one’s “pleasure machine!”

The urologist enters a few minutes later to tell me that my urine is fine and that all systems seem fine, but…

“Mister Bensen, I am curious as to why do you have two urologists?”

“I do?”

Laughing, I proceed to tell him the shortened version of my “Tales Of Testosterone” epic. I could tell from the look on his face he was only slightly amused.

“So, you are seeing this doctor and he is monitoring you levels every six months… Correct?”

“Yes, I guess so. It’s about time to see him soon,” I said, a bit apologetically. I thought that guy was you guys!”

“So you won’t be having a need for our services, I assume,” he said.

“I am told because of my age that I won’t be needing a PSA exam for another five years, so I guess not”… 

“Not with you guys, at least!”

“Well, okay, but before I let you go, let’s make sure all is well and have another look anyway!”

I thought,”you mean for old time’s sake” but I didn’t say it.

As expected, I passed the test with a quick poke from the blue fickle finger of fate. Pulling my pants back up, I turned to the man, looked him straight in the eye, and as he ripped away his gloves asked him  with a slight smirk on my face…

 “Is this the end… Does this mean our relationship is over?”  Will I ever see you again?

“No,” he said.

First loving Giddy Up cup!

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"Fire Prevention Week!"

Smokey would be pleased!

 Good Sunday Morning, y'all.

I hope no one minds me reminiscing the GD days. Some of these I've thrown out and some, once again, has made the cut... or made me smile. This is one of them.

After my experience with the tech group, the graphics department thought it best for me to chill out... Or, that's my opinion of what went down!

I was pretty much handed lots of ads for in-house events. If I was gonna screw up again, it wouldn't be on a national level. One of those was the Fire Prevention Week promo. I don't recall who designed the previous one a year before, but I'm sure it was most forgettable.

I presented the boss a few ideas, but leaned heavily on the one with the burned hard hat. Seems the sticking point for approving the idea was acquiring an actual hard hat to destroy, so I told them that I'd use my own. I actually had a hard hat from my days with the oil companies from Louisiana.

You couldn't walk on any property without one... even artists had to wear one to sketch and photograph subject matter. I did ask one friend who worked at the plant if I could use his helmet and he was delighted to give it up for "um" science and set it on fire!

I guess he wanted an excuse to get a new.

But, in the end, I decided to torch my "oil and gas chapeaux".

Strangely enough, I don't remember anyone inquiring about where I was gonna do the deal. The entire scene was created in our driveway on our cheapo tin barbecue pit full of charcoal briquettes... even burned a piece of 2x4 for effect.

Back in those days, I did not own a 35mm camera, to I asked Mitch, the same photographer I worked with on"TheCountdown" if he could help me out. I think he enjoyed working me on my strange projects.

So, one day after work, I spread out all my burned debris on the factory floor, and Mitch shot a roll or two. Mitch was a big time smoker and made the suggestion of smoke from a few lit ciggies.

In one of the comps, I illustrated a water soaked floor, but we both felt that what we shot should suffice quite well. It would have been nice to have the poster printed in color, but the budget wouldn't allow it. The red headline was as good as we could expect.

It didn't win any awards, but I assume Smokey was pleased. More on that awards thing later down the GD line!

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

" I Know, I Know, It All Is Completely Baseless!"

It's based in truth...

 Good "wacky" Wednesday Morning, y'all.

Well, here I sit, directly across from the bathroom wall wondering if, indeed, I have to once again, clean the baseboards from the lint, hair, and dust.

I know, I know, you laugh, but in most homes where carpet floors meet the walls, there is some kind of baseboard moulding. Some are quite simple and some are quite "fancy-dancy!"

The "fancy-dancy" ones are the hardest to keep clean.

In most of the house, carpets can hide the overall hairiness and dust making it easier to clean when one vacuums, but not so in the bathrooms. That's where most floors are covered with linoleum which easily show their dismay and lack of attention.

And, the tiny spiders love that!

I notice these things because I do more than just read my constitutional rights three or four times a day. I sit and stare, directly across from the wall and the baseboard, and sometimes think about a good friend who has since passed away.

He was a big, burly Irishman that I knew from high school. In our football days, he was fast, and slim and powerful and could easily take on two offensive tackles, throw them aside and make the tackle. He made me look good at the linebacker position. That was then...

Divorced, a bit overweight, and still Irish, and in his sixties, he was preparing to retire in a year or two. As far back as I can remember, he and another employee at the electric company, carpooled to work into New Orleans. Though they spent most of their time working away from each other on the road, much of their after work hours were spent with friends at bars and restaurants.

But, his good work buddy had another life... he was married, and quite happily so.

On the weekends, when Pat, the high school buddy, had no plans, no date and got lonely, he always tried to recruit Cliff to join him in some form of frolic, or another. But Cliff, the family man, better known to most as "Weenie", a moniker given to him by Pat, would on occasion, graciously join us all at the local restaurant for breakfast and then, try to excuse his way back home.

Some of those excuses, as one would guess were pretty lame, but the one that always brings chuckle to my heart was Pat grilling poor Weenie..."C'mon man, what'cha gonna do, give me that excuse about cleaning your baseboards again?"

Oh, that Pat. He certainly had an effect on everyone, including me. Every now and then, I find I have to give them boards a second look!

Coffee and then, another doctor's appointment!

Copyright 2024/ Ben Bensen III

"No, Not That Kinda Hey... HAY!"

 

Good "Monday Again" Monday Morning, all bodies!

See, you have to understand some people here in Folsom come from a different stock with their own special priorities. For example, we are in the middle of a highly sophisticated topic about automobile oil filter sumps when a friend's eyes set long and hard on a pickup truck that passed by the window of the coffeehouse.

"With her eyes all a twitter, she jumps up out of her chair and yells, "Hay!"

Now, being a city boy who is still trying to find my place in this here town, I answer,"WHAT?"

"No, Barbara says as she points to the window. Not that kinda hey... HAY!"

Her enthusiasm puts a halt to the conversation as everyone watches her run to the window.

"It's hay... two bundles of the good kind of hay sitting in the back of that truck. I wonder where he got it,” she asked hoping that the owner was gonna stop by for a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, he did not making a right turn at the corner and off into the distance.

With a giggle, I asked her, "Do you always get so worked up about... um, HAY?"

"I do when it's the good brand of hay. You can't get that kind of quality here in Louisiana."

As she continued to explain the differences in hay to anyone who'd listen, I couldn't help but be impressed by Barbara's ability to see and discern one brand of hay from another, and even from the back of a pickup just passing through. Gotta love it though!

• Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III