Skip to main content

April Fools Day

April 1. April Fools Day. Love it or hate, it happens every year.

As I've always liked to see myself as a jovial sort, I've always enjoyed the day. I like a good joke and prank as much, if not more, than the next person. This day pretty much is like having a license to be a goof!

I must admit that I really miss working at the sheltered workshop most on April Fools Day. If you're unfamiliar with what a sheltered workshop is, it's basically a place where folks with special needs learn vocational skills. I worked at one for about 10-12 years. It was a hoot! It was hard work but always enjoyable...especially when one of the individuals we worked with exceeded their own expectations.

What was ALWAYS fun was April Fools Day. At least 100 times each and every April Fools Day, I would be told "Your shoe's untied! April Fools!". I always knew to expect it and I relished it every time. I would take that moment to try to teach the folks to not be predictable...to think up a NEW gag and try again later. And they always tried! Some even came up with some good ones!

It was always great because that was the one day that all of the folks we worked with felt pretty much equal. Laughter is really the great equalizer. These folks would play pranks on each other as well as the staff. Sure, there was always one grumpy gus who would get cranky about it (usually a staff member) but the majority of us loved it. To this day, I still expect someone to tell me that my shoe is untied...regardless of whether or not I'm wearing loafers!

To all of my former clients...THANK YOU! I miss each and every one of you. I think that in the scheme of things, they taught me more than I ever taught them.

So, the next time someone plays a harmless prank on you...go with it. Have fun. Life is too short to be serious all the time. And ya never know...you just may learn something. And you may even be surprised just who teaches you a lesson.

YOUR SHOE'S UNTIED!!!!!!! APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Clearing up the Great Gretsch/Rockabilly Sham!

I've had a long-standing friendly argument with a couple of friends about guitars. This has gone on for 20+ years. We're all pickers, and we're all usually lumped under the rockabilly category too. They both love Gretsch guitars. I can take them or leave them. Rockabilly fans have asked me many times why I don't play a Gretsch, which is often associated with rockabilly music.   First, I point out that what I play ain't exactly rockabilly. Sure, there's a definite rockabilly influence...but there's also blues, jazz, surf, garage, punk, country, Tex-Mex, and even some Gypsy & African influences in my music. A Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it. Don't get me wrong, Gretsches have their place and their own, unique sound. But...for a picker who is coming from the afore-mentioned influences, a Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it.   The new Gretsches, mostly reissues, are well-made guitars. MUCH better made than the original ones, which tended to ...
14 comments
Read more

The Alleged Life and Times of Wynn Rainey

Inspiration can come from the most unexpected situations. - MCM Everyone in town knew Wynn Rainey, but no one really knew Wynn Rainey. Even today, in and around Downey Bluff, the Rainey name will get folks to talking. As far away as Norwich, people still remember him. Everyone has a story, and more importantly, an opinion. Depending on who you talk to, some will say Wynn Rainey was a man of means. The Wenberg family, who owned and ran the local savings and loan, did a lot of business with him, if stories are to be believed. Oddly enough, there never seemed to be an active account in his name. The same people who told these tales were the same ones who’d tell you that assets are better than cash. Wynn Rainey always seemed to have the latter. Usually at least a pocketful. Some would tell you he was loose as a goose with his money. Some would tell you he could squeeze ten cents out of a buffalo nickel’s ass. Lots of the old timers will share stories of Rainey paying everyone’s tab at...
Post a Comment
Read more

How Much Longer?

 It smelled like rotting meat. The bite was starting to hurt like a sonofabitch. The kid that bit him couldn't have been more than twelve but looked practically feral. How long had it been since the attacks began; the bombs, the guns, the bioweapons? Six months? A year? Longer? Time no longer held the same meaning. Back then, time was measured by plans and productivity. Now it was a matter of survival. Make it one more day, another hour, another minute. Planning was impossible. The only plan was STAY ALIVE. The world had been reduced to what you could see in front of you.  In the best of times, a human mouth was a disgusting thing. Even the most hygienic smile harbored bacteria. He remembered when he was a kid, being told that a dog's mouth was cleaner. God only knows what came with the bite he received.  If there were any doctors left alive, they were stuck in the same hell he was. Poisoned air, poisoned water, dead bodies, and rubble. The weeds did their best to reclaim...
Post a Comment
Read more