The Doorknob Fiasco

A doorknob. It's not complicated. In fact, it's rare to give a doorknob as much as a second thought. Until something goes wrong with it.

But when doorknobs go bad...

We visit my in-laws from time to time. The upstairs offers sleeping accommodations for our boys on one side, our bedroom on the other and a bathroom just off the hall between the two.

So it was no surprise when I heard the bathroom door shut while immersed in that sweet but often elusive state of "I don't have to get up so I'm not going to" semi-consciousness that I had found on this particular morning. It was a glory with few rivals that shattered into a billion pieces with a loud CLANG-CLANG! that seemed to shake the entirety of Carroll County.

My first thoughts were of a shattered heirloom or an antique. Surely this was a horrible sound. One of my children had broken something. So, considering there had arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Instead of Santa Claus I found my 13-year-old son standing with fear in his eyes, "The doorknob fell off." Realizing that it was much less of an issue than originally feared, I did what all rational people would do. I took the quick route back to dreamland. I slid the tabs back in the slots, the doorknob crooked but off the floor and slid back into bed.

Yes, I found the glorious slumber again. I was reveling in it when I heard a scratching, or maybe a rattling or maybe...what in the world is that noise?

Back out of bed, back to the bathroom door. Knowing it wasn't the chihuahuas wanting out, I asked the mystery prisoner for an identity. Turns out the 8-year-old was trapped in the bathroom. The door is locked, the knob, hastily (read: improperly) reinstalled is about as useful as a battleship anchor in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. So I told him I'd get him out and to stay calm. I went to my wallet, pulled out an old gift card that I keep for just such an occasion and returned to the Bastille fidgeting and wiggling my makeshift key.

No dice.

As hard as I tried, I could not budge the lock. As I continued my poor display of burglary talents, my 10-year-old joined the incident. "I need to use the bathroom." I advised him that there were trees outside if he couldn't wait for me to pick the lock. He waited. Then I suggested that the captive remove the doorknob and replace it in the right position. Magically, the door opened, just as my wife walked up, ready to risk being held hostage by the rogue latch mechanism herself. So the four of us were in the hall, not exactly designed for family reunions, discussing strategies to prevent imprisonment.

The 10-year-old went in and then reemerged, doorknob in hand, confused about what to do with the severed item. "Just leave it", my wife advised him. He was so confident in this advice that dropped it on the tile floor. CLANG-CLANG!

So the knob had come full circle.

We returned to our bunks but laughter prevented any more sleep. Fortunately the smell of coffee and biscuits soon wafted up the stairs from the kitchen. That alone is enough to help me overcome the call of the pillow. Add in my family's laughter at the doorknob fiasco and you have a pretty good start to the morning, early or not.

April 26

On April 26, 1865 Gen. Joseph E. Johnston surrendered to Union Gen. William Sherman at Bennett Place near present day Durham, North Carolina. This effectively closed all major action of the war. Georgia chose this date to honor their war dead and classified this day as Confederate Memorial Day. I have sat long and pondered what to say about this but came to the conclusion that I cannot say anything that could measure up to what the stones in the picture below say on their own. The stones at Oakland, as well as the unmarked graves, represent about 7000 (3000 unknown) of the approximately 300,000 Confederates that did not survive the war. Regardless of any of our thoughts, opinions or motivations, these men gave everything they had.

I can add nothing to that.



The Confederate Section of Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, Georgia





I Don't Get It

Ok, so I write this blog and share with the masses, tens, yea, even ones of readers that frequent here....ok, would you believe stumble by accidentally? How about wind up here due to some sort of software glitch in a rogue search engine?

However it happens, someone usually reads my ramblings. And usually I'm spouting facts, opinions, propaganda and statistics about things I purport to understand. This post is different. In today's culture there is much that I feel like I have a pretty good handle on. And then there's stuff that baffles me to no end.

Here's a few of them:

1) People who drive around with a dog in their lap. I don't care what you say, how small the pooch is or how well it may behave. It is fundamentally impossible for you to safely operate a motor vehicle with Fifi in your lap. It can't be done. Most of the people that I see doing this can't drive to begin with. Trying to keep a Milkbone-crazed Pomeranian from jumping out the window does nothing to help them maintain a lane, stop for pedestrians or approach a safe driving speed IN THE FAST LANE. If your dog is so much of an extrovert that he can't manage to sit at home and chase his tail for 45 minutes while you pick up a pack Lee Press-on-Nails and some Diet Shasta, then slide him in a crate with one of those squeaky toys. That might keep him from flying into traffic when you rear-end the UPS man.

2) People who wear their pajamas in public. I had pretty much succumbed to the fact that there was a segment of the population that was just going to wear pajamas to Wal-Mart. I have managed to wean myself from the five-and-dime turned global superpower for this and other reasons. Nothing says "I've given up on life" like walking down the sidewalk in your pajamas at 2:30 in the afternoon. When a t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans has become too formal for the post office...like I said, I don't get it.

3) Duck Dynasty. I'm Southern. I've been known to hunt winged animals using a shotgun and calls. I'm married to a beautiful woman that can cook. I still don't understand  Duck Dynasty. Between the guys'  pallid, monotone personalities and their refusal to shave or bathe, it makes me think they should call it "Duck Die Nasty." It's real simple. First you're watching this show. Then you quit wearing deodorant. Next thing you know you're walking around Wal-Mart in your pajamas carrying a chihuahua.

4) News on the Weather Channel, aliens on the History Channel, mud bogging on MTV and whatever that crap is on "The Learning Channel". I'm not sure how to elaborate on this one. The best formula I can figure leaves propaganda on the news channel, science on ESPN...no, wait, that's the poker channel now. Hunting...I think they said that's on Animal Planet, the chess tournament is on the comedy channel and my history programing is on...well, I don't think my wife would want me watching that channel. Now you know why I like to read.

This is a short list. There's more. I might share more in a later post but I have to go for now. The Food Network is doing a special on Gandhi's hunger strike.