A Tibute to Our Parents

The gang I hung around with in the 60s and 70s are all well into adulthood now. Several of the guys are now grandparents. This week I recieved word that one of the parents of a friend had died. This week his funeral will be held in the church tha I attended as a child. The same church which sponsored the Boy Scout troop where I made the rank of Eagle Scout in 1970. Seems like some of us stayed behind.

This gave me pause to think about how lucky we were back then. I do not know if our parents saw each other socially, but I do know that they cared about us. They cared enough to be good role models and to show an interest in what we were doing. Several of them served on the toop committee. One of them served as our scoutmaster for a time. Even my dad, who was no great woodsman, came out camping with us on occasion. The important part was that they cared and it showed.

Outside of our group, we had many other adults that we could look up to. At the high school, Gerry T., the gym teacher who was also a Scouter helped this handicapped youth get several important merit badges. At the Police station, the Juvie officer, Al Costa, had a smiling face and an easy dispostion for the good kids. Heaven help you if you ran afoul of the law. Your parents would most certainly hear about it. In the house next door to ours, lived Florian Marquis Jr.. Everyone called him Junior, but to us kids he was Mr. Marquis. He ran a service station that was just across the tracks. At one time or another, he fixed every car in the area and knew all of the adults. During the Blizzrd of 78, we made a total neighboorhood effort, just to get his tow truck free of our street. He was already playing a role in my life, but more of that another time.

I am not saying that we had it good, or that we had perfect childhoods, but in the 60s and 70s in Woonsocket R.I. Our neighborhood was a good place to grow, Our parents saw to it.

Please do not forget to tip the Pizza Guy!

I know all about the economic woes that we are facing whether it be here in Springfield, with my friends in the Numeg state or our nation as a whole.

There is one favor I would like each and every one of you to do for me, please do not forget to tip the pizza guy, the waiter or waitress and your newspaper carrier.

Your favorite waitress, the guy or gal who brings your pizza or your other takeout foods and your newspaper carrier all depend on tips for a good part of their income.
I know because I deliver pizza for a living. There are several sites and chatrooms where I am "The resident pizza guy". I say that with pride. Although some may consider it a humble job, I enjoy it and have made a decent living at it for the last several years.

What a lot of people do not think about is that we in these businesses rely on you to pay us. In many states we make a sub minimum wage and count on tips and run allowances to make up the difference. With the economy in trouble, many folks see a cheap meal out or delivered foods as an afforable luxury. Where they tend to cut corners is in the tip.

I speak from hard experience. Whether the economy is good or bad, I am my co workers still have our costs. We have to pay our bills, the same as everyone else. In addition, delivery drivers often have to buy their own vehicles, pay for fuel, insurance and maintence. Your tips go a long way to help.

We do not expect tips for bad service and or poor food quality. As a driver, I take every possible step to make my customers happy. Often I will make a call to resolve a customer complaint. In some cases, the order gets the discounted or free. A good driver will do that and more to make you happy. Please keep that in mind the next time you order out.

I am going to close this log with a website http:www.tipthepizzaguy.com It is a forum open to the general public as well as the industry. It is funny and serious.

Thanks for your continued friendship and readership. Comments to kokoracer@gmail.com

Don't forget to tip the Pizza Guy

A tribute to My Brothers and Sisters in Uniform

With the passing of Veterans Day, the killings at Ft. Hood and the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I had a chance to reflect on both what is going on today and my own attempt to serve our country.

While I am still proud of having served, I am not proud of how I served. In truth, my service was barely worthy of mention compared to the trials facing our troops today. I was a Cold War soldier and a piss poor one to boot. I never saw combat. the only time I ever handled a live weapon was out on a firing range. When I signed up with the Rhode Island National Guard, I had no idea of what I would face. I was a pipe smoker, I was overweight, and I showed all the signs of an alcohol problem.

It started at the very beginning, getting drunk at the first opportunity, missing a formation and being disciplined. An accident in training, due to my poor conditioning resulted in a fall from a 40 ft tower, injuring me and putting an NCO in jeopardy. I completed basic, only after restarting training and being put on an extreme conditioning program. That would prove to be one of my few successful moments. I then completed my skills training and returned home without any major issues.

I spent a short time with the RIANG. Only enouggh to prove that I was having increasing problems with alcohol. I looked forward to drill weeknds for low cost alcohol. By the following summer, I was on my way to Ft. Polk La.for my first active duty assignment.

My 13 months at Polk were marked by a discipinary actions due to alcohol. A barracks accident with involved alcohol and resulted in severe burns and time in a psycho ward, all due to alcohol abuse.

Somehow I made it through my time at Polk and got assigned overseas. I would complete my tour of duty in West Germany. Shortly after arriving in country, alcohol reared its ugly head again. I was on a downward spiral which ended with a determination that I was not fit to serve. That was in May of 1982. I put down the drink at that point, leaving the country and then the military, clean and sober. While I did get a General Discharge under Honorable Conditions, my service was no where near honorable. I feel like I am not worthy of polishing the boots of today's soldiers.

The soldier of today is a far cry from the one I was. Reservists and members of the National Guard face call ups to serve under hostile fire. Members of the regular Army face long tours far from their homes and families. Even in their stateside bases, they cannot feel safe. They face an enemy who may reside within their own ranks. It is not right nor is it fair.

Today I live in an area near Westover AFRB. There is are many military personnel both active and reserve in the area. I serve many of them in my job and never forget to say thanks. Not because of what I once did, but because of what they are doing today to keep us free.

When you see a soldier, sailor, Marine or airman, have the courtesy to say thanks. It is the least we can do.

A Question for You!

This post is dedicated to some of my co workers, managers and friends who work for Dominos Pizza in Chicopee and Springfield Ma.. Amoung them are my franchisee Tony, his wife and children, John and Liz Sanborn with their children,Brigette Whalen and her son, and my friend Anna with her unborn child.

The question is this, what kind of country are we going to leave for this new generation of citizens of the United States?

I was born in 1954 to two first generation Americans. The future of the U.S. looked bright. We had just won WWII. My dad had quit high school to enter the Navy and the war ended while he was in training. He went to barber school on the G.I. bill to follow his father's trade. He owned a small business which he worked at part time, while being employed by the Draper Corporation. Both he and my mother worked hard and were moderately succesful. We owned a modest home at the edge of the inner city. My mother worked a variety of jobs in the textile and food service industries
while raising three children.

The United States was much like my family. We were strong and proud. We held our head high. We grew our own food, We baked our bread. We built our cars and made our own shoes. The shirt on my back was made of cotton which had been grown by an American farmer, woven into cloth on an American loom, and stitched by an American worker. We pumped our own oil, which American refiners turned into gasoline to fuel our American made cars. Las but not least, we saved and scrimped, while we might have borrowed for a mortgage or a car loan, for the rest we paid CASH!!! Our government was the same way. When they borrowed, it was from it's citizens.
While there were social programs, they did not intrude on our lives. We felt free to pursue the American dream.

I would like to know what the future holds for the children to whom I have dedicated this blog. The mill where my father once worked is a mangled ruin. The milltown would be a ghost town were it not a suburb of Boston. The clothes I wear are made in China, Even my computer and my model trains come from overseas. Two of the three car makers which once dominated the U.S. market have gone bust and one is now controlled by Europeans. Our government spends money that they do not have on things that we do not need. The privately owned slums that once dominated the inner city, have been replaced by public housing. The respect that I was so carefully taught as a child is no more. Teachers are beaten in the schools and the police who once walked the beat, rush from one crime to another in their hi tech cruisers.

Today I fight to maintain a decent quality of life. The home share with my wife is one payment away from foreclosure. The house next door is vacant. Right now we do not even have our own automobile. The car we are using has been provided by my employer. My wife has been in the hospital three times in the last two months for diabetic problems. Meanwhile, those in Hartford, Boston and Washington, laugh at us.
They are constantly trying to find new ways to cripple us with laws and taxes. From cigarette taxes to sales taxes and property taxes, I have to work harder each and every day, just to hold on to what I have.

I am not without hope for our future however. I believe that the spirit that made our country great is still alive. I believe in myself. I believe in my co workers and friends. i believe that we can take our country back. It will not be easy. The working men and women of this coutry will have to join hands like we have never before. If there is to be a second American revolution, let it begin here. Let the shouts of freedom ring out on the streets of Springfield. Bring hope back to Hopedale. Bring a smile to the farmer of the Midwest who grows the wheat for our bread. 2010 can be a new beginning for our nation. We need to let our elected representatives know who they work for. We need to do this at all levels, city, state and nation. The time for action is now. We need to do this for our next generation. We need to let them see the country we once knew. Proud, strong and free.