ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DOLLAR

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DOLLAR
T.Wieland Allen

Another day, another dollar, you've heard that old saying. In reality, for Gramps and me it was another Sunday, another dollar spent for each of us at the Supersaver Movie Theater. The outings never fail to provide great entertainment from the movies we see, but there always seems to be some extracurricular entertainment that comes from the most unlikely sources at the dollar movie places.

One Sunday lately we had our Sam's hot dog and coke, drove immediately to the Supersaver and walked inside the entrance to pay our two bucks to see a good spy thriller in which two of our favorite actors played the lead roles. Gramps stepped up to the window to pay for us so I stepped aside and began to read the printed pamphlet listing the other six movies playing at the theater. The pamphlet was Scotch taped to the window of the ticket booth. Glancing down underneath the pamphlet, I saw a sign that I had not previously noticed so I had not read it on our other three visits to the Supersaver. Herein was the added entertainment that we weren't expecting, although other patrons of the theater probably didn't find the colorful sign a thing of interest.

The colorful professionally printed sign contained this interesting public information:

"OUR AIM IS TO KEEP OUR BATHROOMS CLEAN.


GENTLEMEN:
YOUR AIM WILL HELP.
STAND CLOSER.
IT'S SHORTER THAN YOU THINK.


LADIES:
PLEASE REMAIN SEATED DURING YOUR ENTIRE
PERFORMANCE. "

Isn't that just the most priceless bit of information you ever heard, a place of business coaching the men to please stand closer to the urinal and coaching the women to please remain seated on the toilet until completely finished with their business.

I'll be willing to wager a few dollars that those fancy new movie theaters that charge eight to ten collars to see the same movies that we get to see a few weeks later for only a dollar aren't concerned enough about their patrons that they display a printed sign coaching people on bathroom etiquette.

Oh, maybe I got it wrong. Maybe the people who frequent the dollar movie theaters are use to being sloppy when they potty, and therein lies the reason for the sign. Gramps and I got a big laugh out of the sloppy potty notification.

I'm still really confused on the advice for the gentlemen, what are they referring to as being shorter, the distance or the .........

WHATEVER WORKS

WHATEVER WORKS
T. Wieland Allen


Every time I think about reaching for a medicine to take, grabbing a bottle, and it turns out to be the wrong med, I remember an experience I had when I was a teenager.

A friend had come to my house after school for a visit. She had huge fever blisters on her top lip. Since my sister Joy regularly had fever blisters, she had a bottle in the bathroom medicine cabinet of wonderful fever blister medicine prescribed by a doctor.

My friend asked if we had anything she could put on her fever blisters because they were getting bigger and were feverish. I told her to go to our medicine cabinet where there was a green bottle that was a prescription for fever blisters and she could use that. She did.

Two days later she asked me what the medicine was because it healed her fever blisters almost immediately, much faster than the prescription that she had at home.

I told her I didn't know the name of it but I would look on the bottle. She told me that she had left the bottle on the back of the toilet at our house.

When I went home from school that day I remembered her request for the name of the medicine, so I went in the bathroom and, sure enough, a green medicine bottle was on the back of the toilet.

I looked on the bottle for the name of the wonderful medicine that did such remarkable healing of my friend's fever blisters, much faster than it had done for my own sister. I noticed as I looked for the name of the medicine that the instructions on the bottle said, "Apply to hemorrhoids twice a day."

I told my friend I couldn't find the bottle. As a shy teenager I was too embarrassed to tell her the truth.

But, hey, whatever works.

NO SMOOCHING IN THE DARK

NO SMOOCHING IN THE DARK
T. Wieland Allen

Our adventures at the Dollar Movie just keep going on. We've changed locations because our old Dollar Movie began starting the first features at 1:30 instead of at noon, like they did for years. Also, they raised their prices to $1.25. We can afford that, but it's the principle of the thing. If it's called the Dollar Movie, it should cost a dollar.

You'll find that as you age, normal routines just are hard to break. We're used to having our Sam's hot dog and Coke at 11:00, then get to the movie at noon to see whatever starts at noon as long as it's not an R rated one, R being too raunchy for us.

We decided to start frequenting another Dollar Movie called the Supersaver, which still costs $1.00. It's a pretty old theater, much like the other one was when we first started frequenting it; but the price is right and the starting times of the movies are right since the first showings are at 12;00 noon, just like we like it, so our routine stays the same.

One Sunday we arrived at the new to us, but very old, Supersaver theater. It was a cold, cold winter day. After we bought our tickets for $1.00 apiece, we made our way down the hall to the very last room where our choice of movie was playing. When we walked in the door, the room was pitch black, I mean black, black, no upper lights, no lights around the screen, no lights down the aisle. It was black in the room.

Gramps and I clutched each other for support and felt the backs of the seats on the back row until we came to the last one, found the space which we assumed was the aisle, then walked ever so slowly down what appeared to be an aisle. We thought the room was empty until a male voice kindly said, "Do you need some light?" Then he shined a flashlight beam down the aisle until we found a particular seat we wanted to occupy. We were grateful for his assistance. We joked with him about the Dollar Movie and how we all have to put up with inconveniences like having to wear our winter coats, hats and gloves the entire two hours when there is no heat, and having to bring a flashlight in case the lights are off.

We had good laughs in our conversation with the man and his wife. Another couple chimed in. They were a few rows behind us on the left, I guess. Couldn't swear to that because it was like being in a cave fifty feet underground. It's strange how you form a quick brotherhood with patrons of the Dollar Movie and Supersaver because you endure hardships together, all in the name of saving seven bucks.

We continued carrying on a conversation with the man with the flashlight, laughing and enjoying the funny experiences that we've all had while frequenting the bargain theater.

Gramps and I started talking amongst ourselves and the man started talking quietly and intimately to his wife. Sounded like they were about six rows behind us, but I can't be sure because visibility was about the end of your own nose, if that far.

After a few minutes Gramps commented that we should go out and tell an attendant at the snack bar to tell someone to turn on the lights. The gentleman who had graciously shined his flashlight for us echoed Gramps' suggestion, that someone should do just that.

Suddenly the man's wife said, "I already did that."
"When did you do that?" That comment obviously came from her husband.
"I did it a long time ago and I just got back," she said sweetly.
"You mean you were gone all the time I was talking so sweetly to you? "
"I guess I was," she said, "because I just got back."

Gramps and I hooted at the image in our minds of the man talking so sweetly and intimately to the empty seat next to him. The other couple to the left several rows behind us hooted also.

Suddenly all the lights in the theater came on and all six of us in unison said, "Let there be light."

I'll bet not many churches had six people quoting a Bible verse extemporaneously in unison that day like we did in the Dollar Movie. It shows we all go to church and know the Bible.

So we had another funny Sunday at the place where we have more laughs than any other place. And the movie was hilarious, to boot. We picked a good one, even though I'm glad we wore our heavy coats, hats and gloves the entire time. It was freezing in there.

We're not desperate for entertainment. It just doesn't take much to entertain us.

SURPRISE AT THE SUPERSAVER

SURPRISE AT THE SUPERSAVER
T. Wieland Allen

Our Sunday routine of a Sam's hot dog and viewing a movie at the Dollar Movie or the Supersaver Movie Theater in a neighboring big city are so ingrained in us now that we get disappointed when we can't follow the tradition. The day never fails to please us and the movies are usually good ones, giving us lots of laughs or lots of excitement when it is a thriller movie. The events that ensued on one Sunday was a complete surprise to both of us.

We chose a movie at the Supersaver Movie Theater that was a love story, one with actors that we like. It was playing at 12:00 noon, which pleased us since we would be finished with our trip to Sam's Club where we had our hot dogs and cokes and did some shopping. Everything was falling in place perfectly, just like we anticipated because the events had been our habit for several years. We were in for a surprise.

When we entered the movie theater, we saw that we were the only people there, which is not unusual. Very often that happens and then a few other people wander in during the coming attractions for other movies. The lights were on, so we located seats about three quarters of the way down the aisle and settled in, removing hats and coats since, luckily, the heat was on in the room.

A handsome young man about 30 years old entered the row behind us, sat down in a seat close enough that he was within earshot of us. Then he said something interesting to us. He said, "Do you want to hear a good story?"

I was cognizant of the fact that he was full of joy and wanted to share his story with anyone who would listen. I said, "Sure."

The young man told us that he had been in a horrible car accident two and a half years ago, that he had brain damage and other injuries that were so devastating that the doctors told his mother that he probably wouldn't live. When he didn't die, they advised her to put him in a nursing home. They said that physical therapy would be a waste of time because of the extent of his injuries and that he would need physical care all of his life. His mom refused.

He continued the joyful rendition of the events of the past two and a half years by saying that his grandma, who had just died two weeks earlier, also wouldn't accept the prognosis of the doctors. She took on the job of his physical rehabilitation by having him mow the lawn, work around the house, and accomplish feats that the medical community said were impossible for him to do. One of his arms became immobile because of a stroke, but his grandma supervised his rehab until his arm became completely useful again.

The young man continued his story by telling us that he bought a house that had formerly been a crack house, tore out all the walls and floors because of the chemical smell, and replaced everything from ceiling to floor.

Then he proudly said, "This year is the second anniversary of me being completely healed and this month my new house is totally paid off. I just wanted you to hear some good news today."

We rejoiced with the proud young man. He needed to have people rejoice with him. He had accomplished much more than other men his age, no matter their stations in life. He had physically recovered from a brain injury and devastating injuries to his body; plus only two and a half years after his wreck he had completely rebuilt a house and paid it off. He was so proud of himself. I could only imagine his mother's pride at his accomplishments. He gave thanks to his mom and grandmother who refused to accept death for him and refused to accept limitations. His grandma is in heaven now and I know God, Himself, gave her his thanks for doing what she did for her grandson.

Gramps and I gave him two thumbs up and lots of praise also. He deserved even more than we could give him. I think he can do anything and everything he desires to do. He seemed like that kind of guy.

All of that conversation was before the movie started. His testimony certainly set the mood for enjoyment of the love story in the movie. We heard two love stories that day, one from the young man and one from the movie screen. I like the young man's story the best because I like stories of moms and grandmas who devote their lives to their offspring and refuse to accept death and defeat on their behalf. Now, that's real love.

OKIE QUALITIES

OKIE ATTRIBUTES

There are wonderful stories around about the generosity of Okies. Nine-nine percent of us are compassionate and kind. Gramps had a funny experience with two men one time that proved there are always misshapen apples in every barrel.
Gramps called the guy who always sold fire wood to us, always stacked it neatly in the wood rack in the back yard and was always very gracious. The man proudly said that he had a regular job and didn't need to sell wood any longer, but his uncle had wood to sell. He gladly gave Gramps the cell phone number of his uncle.
The uncle answered his phone promptly. Gramps told him the story, that the uncle's nephew said to call him and order some wood. The uncle's answer was kind of strange for a guy who made his living selling wood. He said, "Will you call me back in thirty minutes? My brother is cooking me breakfast." Hum, we thought, that must really be a close family. He didn't even ask for Gramp's name or phone number. We thought his brother must really be a gourmet cook for a businessman to be so nonchalant about making money.
After about thirty minutes the man called Gramps, probably got the number from his recent calls listing on his cell phone, and quoted Gramps a price for a rick of wood. It was the same price as his nephew, our old wood supplier. The uncle said he would be at our house in 15 minutes with the wood.
Sure enough, he arrived with another man, probably his brother who had cooked such an appealing breakfast for him that he couldn't wait to eat. They started unloading the wood. Gramps commented to them that he is recovering from cancer and chemotherapy and could they bring a little bit of the wood up to the porch where Gramps could easily access it during the snow storm that was predicted.
The uncle sternly said, "We don't carry no wood for that price."
Evidently the gracious and kind gene that most Okies have was not present in his side of the family. There wasn't an obvious ounce of compassion in his eyes or in his voice.
Gramps offered to pay the men a little more money, and they agreed to bring some up to the porch. They were willing to help an older gentleman who was recovering from a devastating illness and chemotherapy, but it was going to cost him some money. These guys are in the 1% of Okies who aren't compassionate and kind.
We asked God to bless the men but decided that the man will certainly not get any more business from us.
It kind of reminded me of our grandchilden's story about their mother buying them a pygmy goat for a pet. The seller assured our daughter-in-law that the goat was certainly a male. The grandkids had a ball with the fat goat until two weeks later when it birthed twin babies. Uh-huh, the former owner had gotten rid of the pregnant goat under the auspices of it being a male. Of course, by the time she birthed the twin babies the children were already attached to it. No chance of returning it then. I'm sure the former owner counted on that. No compassion and kindness there, either, and a few ounces of dishonesty. The goat did provide some entertainment, though. It routinely jumped up on the lawn furniture and hopped onto the trampoline and had a good time jumping. All was not lost since that was a sight to behold.
Gramps heard a court case one time where one of the witnesses worked at a chicken plant. The witness had a rare professional title. He was a chicken sexer. He stood in the plant and picked up the baby chicks and separated the roosters from the hens. Now, how do you figure he could do that? He spent all his work days chicken sexing. That's a profession we all want our kids to strive for, chicken sexing.
Anyway, our daughter-in-law and her sister who was with her when she bought the goat could have benefited from some lessons in goat sexing. Just a minute, that doesn't sound quite right. That could be taken kind of as a back hills Okie perversion. What I really meant is they could have been taught to tell the difference between a small male goat and a female goat and they wouldn't have been so easily deceived.
The uncle who sold Gramps the wood needs some lessons in Okie kindness and the lady who sold the pregnant pygmy goat to our grandkids' mom need some lessons in Okie honesty.
However, even with those experiences, we're still proud to be Okies from Muskogee where we still fly Old Glory at the courthouse and where most people don't try to cheat weak and recovering grandpas by demanding more money for a simple feat of carrying a few armloads of firewood 25 feet, and where ladies don't pawn off a pregnant goat onto an unsuspecting mom who wants to buy a pet for her children.
Actually, how many people do you know who are creative enough to buy pygmy goats as pets for their children? See, we are unique people in Oklahoma.