The laugh out-loud humor is captivating. The true recounts go in rapid succession, from one hilarious story to the next. The backdrop of this book is a shy skinny kid growing up in small towns. From kid to adulthood is non-stop hilarity. It immediately grabs you with the first story. There is something for everyone in this book. David M. Goodman includes five of his fictional stories. There is a reason he chose 'lower-case letters' for the title "dirt road....old farmhouse." The book stands alone to share Humor and Inspiration with, readers of all ages. If you don't want to laugh, this is the wrong book

Laughing Stocks Are Free

Sharing a Laugh in Troubled TimesBy David M. Goodman Sr.

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 David M. Goodman Sr.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-7809-3

Contents

How I Freed Myself from the Jaws of Death...................................1Soup or Salad?..............................................................7Eat a Pound of Bacon Everyday and Call me in a Week.........................12Computers, "They Will Never Make It"........................................15The Outhouse and a Chicken Named Sally......................................18Selling Pop Bottles When I was a Kid........................................21Bob and Tom.................................................................23That Unique Sound...........................................................27My Grandmother's Radio......................................................32My First Day of School......................................................34dirt road ... old farmhouse.................................................37The Clock Shop on 53rd Street...............................................56Fine Art....................................................................67The Last Voyage.............................................................73Drink That Last Cup-a Coffee Before That Rotgut at Work.....................78Three-Legged Grill..........................................................81Essence of You..............................................................86One Again...................................................................88Her Name Was Serene.........................................................89Fields Full of Flowers......................................................90Fields Full of Flowers......................................................91

Chapter One

How I Freed Myself from the Jaws of Death

Twenty-five to thirty years ago, we would go to the mountains annually. I love to fish for trout and especially enjoy fishing in the mountain streams. I do not fly-fish but use a method with hook on a six-inch liter and a loop on the end. I attached the hook to a medium swivel. When you catch a trout by this method, the heart pounding response you get is incredible. Sometimes I can see this record size Trout in my mind while I am reeling in my prize. Usually the fish is anywhere between six to twelve inches but the excitement of catching fish from a stream is incredible. I let the current take the bait slowly down stream. Through the years of fishing this method, I have learned that often a fish will take the bait and stop. Some take it back where they were when they got the bait. I have learned this through the years talking and/or fishing with fly-fishing people. There used to be shows on many years ago about trout fishing. That was before bass fishing became an international affair. Bottom line is (pun intended) fishing is fishing but to each his own I guess. Fishing for Trout is the only kind of fishing I do. We go to the mountains every two to three years now. When we do go, we spend about a week saying, "Why did we wait so long to come back"? We have grown older so the need to see kids and Grandkids is something that only increases with time. I guess I got off track some.

We had gone to the mountains on our annual trip. The fishing had been especially good this particular year. Like any other angler, if the fishing is good you tend to get up earlier and earlier every day. This particular morning I got up at 4:30(my god was I ever that dumb). The cabin we were staying in was only fifteen to twenty yards from the stream. Therefore, I decided I would go upstream and work my way down to where we were staying. I was wearing waders and carrying my rod and reel. I had a creel over my shoulder with the attached strap. I also had a small plastic box with divider compartments that held flies attached to my belt. I looked like the cover boy for 'Field & Stream' magazine. Being 4:30 in the mountains meant two basic things; it was "cold" and "dark." The key word in that last statement is "DARK." Genius here had not really counted on it being pitch black. I could see but it was not easy. When you step out of your cabin and hear that stream, it is God's Country. For a Trout angler this is motivation to do dumb stuff like this. Yes, I had a flashlight, and that should have been my first clue I was out just a little early. The stream and sound of me walking was all I heard.

When I got upstream, I turned off the small path, heading for the stream. I had a distance of about fifteen yards down to the water. I had to walk through some small trees with tiny pencil sized limbs. I also found a lot of vines and all kinds of tall plants growing. I checked for poison ivy and was all clear there. So behind me now, to be clear with everyone, was thick bunches of vines, tree limbs, and bushes. This stuff was thirty to forty feet high. I looked back after getting through this pilgrimage of green and brown vegetation. The area behind me looked like a cross between the Bolivian Rain forest, African Jungles, and an aviary in a zoo. I estimated that it would take between seven to eight hours to find my poor lifeless body. I stopped about two feet from the water, baited my line, and started with my motion to drop the line in the water. It was at this precise second I heard the Deafening, "Primal Yell, Growl, or Animalistic Cry, for their young to come to the water, it was "feeding time"! It is times like this, one thinks of many things. The things that went through my head were racing at milliseconds; I use the term milliseconds because at this point the mind moves far more quickly than impulse. First, this sound seemed like it was coming twenty to thirty feet from me.

I will give you an abbreviated list of what I perceived were my options at that precise second (1) Scream (2) run across the stream (3)drop to my knees and belt out the chorus of Amazing Grace (4) Runnnnnnnnnn!!!; "But where"? I did not know the direction the noise came from because of how loud it was. My heart was racing and beating like a drum in both ears. I just got down and waited for the next sound to determine the direction. The only sound was my breathing, as if I had just ran a mile. Probably after about two minutes from the first sound came the second. This sound was more deafening and only ten to twelve feet from me. The best thing I could have heard at this point was a shot, and someone saying, "I got him, are you alright in there"? There was no shot, just me and the Bear, Mountain Lion, or whatever.

I turned and started to run the direction I came from. I tripped over some vine or something. I got up tearing away the thicket. My hands were bleeding from pulling and pushing the Amazon Jungle out of my way. Where is Tarzan when you really need him? It was he or I and we both knew it. I had misjudged how far and how much of this debris I had gone through. I yearned for a 'Midway Barker' saying, "Get your machetes right here!" Finally literally breathless, with hands bleeding, cuts on my arms, and contusions on my head, I came to the clearing. I dropped down and sat, breathing sounds of the savage beast chasing me. It had been at least five minutes since I last heard Bigfoot. I sat down facing the jungle I had just come through. Then my heart literally ripped out of my chest. There was something big coming through the thicket in front of me. I saw the last of the debris start to fall and stood up as it came partway out and stopped. A few seconds later, it emerged completely and stood about ten feet in front of me. We both just stared at one another. It was a Jackass! A Jackass for god sake; what was the darn thing doing here? Does the stupid thing not know there are bears out here? Forget I said that, it was probably thinking the same thing about me.

Then I started to rant and yell like a Drill Instructor to a recruit in basic training. I began walking toward this demon. I reached out, pushed the darn thing, and continued to yell. The Jackass just stared at me as if to say, "Man you should have seen you, tearing through all that stuff"! Then I laughed and laughed and laughed. The Jackass walked away to terrorize someone else on another day. I have recounted this story through the years, but never will I forget the best cardiovascular workout I ever had.... Until next time.... Happy fishing ... 'err..... Hunting everyone ...

Chapter Two

Soup or Salad?

My Wife and I have traveled to many places in the United States on vacations conventions, and various other situations. Everyone has life's unforgettable moments in time. It seems when you pack the car or board the plane, these moments are just part of the trip. These things can happen in seconds, minutes, or whatever applies. My life deals out these embarrassing moments like a deck of cards. I start with one at a restaurant during a vacation. Our kids were about eight and ten years old. The server took our order and started asking preference before the meal. The server asked our ten-year-old son if he wanted soup or salad. It was rather busy at the time, so not hearing her clearly his answer was, "Yes." I started laughing so hard I thought I would blow a gasket, because I knew what he meant immediately. I looked up at the server and held my hands apart the size of a basketball. "Yes Ma'am, he likes his salad in a bowl about this big." The five of us burst into laughter including the server. My son thought she said a Super Salad! I quickly added, "Does that come with the cape"? My son said, "Just a regular salad please"! (And ... a memory was made).

The same trip we ate in a place that had a large salad bar. I got up after eating my meal and went for some Jell-O. I had seen it earlier at the salad bar. I scooped some Jell-O in a bowl and put a sizeable amount of whipped cream on top. I sat down and my wife and kids began to make funny comments regarding the mountain of whipped cream. I am a big fan of whipped cream. I took my first bite, with my big mouth, and froze for a moment. Then I spit it out into my plate, with my family laughing and wondering why I did that. My wife took a drink of her tea as I said, "That is sour cream"! First of all I hate sour cream, secondly when your taste buds are all set, for sweet delectable whipped cream, it takes a second for your brain to scream, spit it out you idiot! Anyway, my wife spits out her tea. People must have thought, "Who are these idiots?" (And ... a memory was made).

Some years later, my wife and I had gone to a convention associated with my job. We were eating at a large round table with five Doctors. Now I say a round table to emphasize, everyone could see one another clearly. My wife ordered a steak and a baked potato. This was in San Francisco by the way, so maybe someone can give us some insight on this. She was eating and saying the steak was tender and delicious. She did not get the baked potato but, had something on the plate that we thought was potatoes. She took a large bite of her mashed potatoes and instantly spit this large mouthful straight into her plate. Now you can envision the looks she got from our table as well as others in the restaurant. The Doctor to my immediate right signaled for the waiter, who was there in a fl ash. The Doctor looked up and said (deadpan); "Bring this lady a whole jar of Horse Radish please"! Everyone was laughing so hard, including my wife, and I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead while squeezing her hand. I did this as a gesture to say it is fine and I Love You. (And ... a memory was made). We had now developed a reputation for spitting out food at our table.

One last one and I will let you go. One of our Granddaughters lost her two front teeth at an early age so spent seven or eight years like this. She is very outgoing and self-confident so she did fine. About a year ago, she got the two front teeth. Our Son-In-Law and Daughter sat the three kids down, for a serious family talk. The parents told our Granddaughter these were permanent teeth. They would have to last rest of her life. They explained the importance of good dental hygiene. They stressed this to all three of the kids. You can well imagine the seriousness of this talk. Dental care is a vital part of hygiene and you want a good foundation laid. Right dab in the middle of this talk one of their boys raises his hand. They never did this; what could be so important to break the train of thought of a serious talk. My Son-In-Law looks at his son and in an upset tone says, "What Son"! The 8 year old looks at his dad and says (deadpan), not meant in a funny way, "No Dad, uh ... you can get more." "Papa Dave lost all of his teeth and he got a whole new Set"! Our daughter jumps to her feet and runs toward the restroom yelling, "I'll be right back"! She laughed until she cried. My Son-In-Law keeps a straight face somehow and as he said; "He had those made in China"! Our Grandson still did not understand the problem. (And ... a memory was made) By the way, I got my teeth in Texas. Go eat a jar of Horseradish. Yuk

Chapter Three

Eat a Pound of Bacon Everyday and Call me in a Week

I was wondering how any of us are still alive today. Some commercials now would not have made it in the 50s and early 60's. We ate bacon, butter, fried potatoes, and other good stuff . All these have now been health upgraded (that's my term). There was even a story a while back that said something to the effect, of bacon may cause some forms of Cancer. I remember thinking at the time, nooooo, ... not my bacon. That story died out and I personally have not heard about it since.

When I was a kid we ate fried chicken, chicken fried steak, fried potatoes, and of course, we added (real) salt to these things at the table. My mother would send me into the grocery store for a box of crackers. I went in, grabbed a box, paid, and left. You could get crackers in a box or a metal container. I went to a grocery store about a week ago. While there, I got something that happened to be on the cracker aisle. What I saw was unsalted, whole grain, low sodium, salted, protein rich, etc. This has taken a number of years to evolve, but enough is enough. I wanted to get a box that said 'heavy salted'. I like the kinds that have the warning: Caution! If you eat this, you will probably be dead in about a month. Look next time you go, seems unbelievable. Man, I sure would like some fried chicken!

Bread; there's another winner. Bread comes in white, wheat, whole wheat (by the way is the wheat just half; never mind), low sodium, protein rich, extra fiber, light, low fat, etc. Most things are like that now. My wife and I usually bake most of the meat we eat. Man, I sure would like some fried chicken! How about those boneless, skinless chicken breasts we have now. Can you imagine that in the frozen food section in the 50s and early 60's? The grocer said, "Gee Mrs. Cleaver, I don't know who to put these in here." (Sorry, I could not resist.)

If you have fifteen to twenty minutes to kill (which no one does), stop and look at the butter section. They have tubs, towers, sticks, liquid, low sodium, low fat, etc. "Gee Mrs. Cleaver," "We don't stock 'Real Butter'." Man, I sure would like to have some fried chicken! My point is how any of us lived past the age of ten or twelve back then. One last thing that does not pertain to food, but I think is ridiculous. Take a slow walk down the 'Hand Soap Isle'. I will mention only one; Honey and Lemon. Hand Soap? ... I used to wash honey and lemon off my hands when I was a kid.

In conclusion: I have had two heart attacks, 2 angioplasties, C.O.P.D. & Emphysema, AAA Surgery, etc ... Man, I sure would like some fried chicken!

Chapter Four

Computers, "They Will Never Make It"

The first computer I worked with was in 1977. The hard drive was the size of Rhode Island. It was "Housed" in its own room. "Housed"; sounds like a monster locked behind bars, so no one would get hurt. The Hard Drive sounded something like a train station. My office was just outside the hard drive room. The nature of my work made it difficult to communicate with my clients at times. With the noise, the hard drive made it was an adventure if my client was the least bit hard of hearing.... All Aboarrrrrrrrd?!

It would be worthwhile if the computer did what they said. Streamline productivity and alleviate the thousands of files in the filing cabinets. We would be able to store Data on our individual computers throughout the office. Data ... Hum ... so that is what we had all those years. There were terms back then for people that worked with computers. Some still apply today, with more added. I will mention two for our journey back in time. One's job it was to enter the data for the infinite mountains of files from past to present. They were superior typists, (My god it has been decades since I last used the word typist), that had the remarkably dynamic title of, Data Entry Clerk. There was also the "World Renowned Title of, Data Entry Specialist! Man, I loved their badge with that on it.

I can remember the miles and miles of wiring and cables that were in the ceiling. I remember sliding all the asbestos ceiling tiles out of the way and people crawling around in the ceiling tossing cables. I adapted to the computer productivity and it really did work. I remember when I turned on my computer I got the ole C :> prompt. I think I typed something in like ms dos, yeah something like that. I did no research on this; I am going strictly from memory, which is when I am the most dangerous. I worked at several places during my career so I saw different Computer Systems. It was fascinating seeing the hard drive becoming smaller through the years.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Laughing Stocks Are Freeby David M. Goodman Sr. Copyright © 2009 by David M. Goodman Sr.. Excerpted by permission.
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