Basketball Is Serious Business

Just to illustrate how serious basketball is taken in Indiana, the following incident happened to my team in the seventh grade.

I attended a very small school in Napoleon Indiana. Typical of the several schools in the area, my seventh-grade class consisted of about thirty-five students.

As was the case in Indiana, the team from the neighboring town was always your fiercest rival, you would sooner cut off an arm than losing to those guys. Losing meant extreme humiliation until you could seek vengeance the following time you played each other.

Our rivals were the school in Osgood, which was only five miles away; their school was not as large a school as we were the seventh-grade class probably only had about twelve students. Almost every boy in the class played on the basketball team.

For the rest of the story.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

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Government Assistance

Written By: Gary Wonning

An excerpt from my book,”Those were the days, my friend.”

Our parents and community taught us to be self-reliant, it was frowned upon to accept assistance from anyone unless it was really needed, and then the community was more than glad to help. Everyone realized they could be in the same boat sometime and were more than willing to help.

It was a disgrace and Un-American to accept help from the government. People looked down on you for even thinking that. It was considered taking someone else’s money, almost like stealing.

In the 1950s, there was a surplus of corn; so the government came up with the grand idea of paying farmers not to farm their land, thereby artificially raising the prices. Named the soil bank, most of the farmers in our area were strongly opposed to it.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

It Pays to Not Be Bored

 

Written by: Gary Wonning

An excerpt from my book, “Those Were The Days.”

I soon learned that if I hung around the house, mom would find something for me to do, and it was normally something I didn’t want to do, so it was best to stay outside and play. I liked to aggravate her, but I soon found out that telling her I was bored wasn’t in my best interests.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Life On The Farm

Written By: Gary Wonning

An excerpt from my book, Those Were the Days My Friend.

It was a good life, growing up on a farm, I often felt sorry for my cousins who lived in Indianapolis. Financially they were better off than we were, but I had animals to be around, could go fishing anytime I wanted, a creek to play in and mom and dad pretty much let me roam anywhere I wanted on the farm.

Gary has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

Peak Season Frustrations, UPS

Written By; Gary Wonning

One of my first years on the job, I arrived back at the center about five o’clock on Christmas Eve. I was looking forward to going home and enjoying the evening attending church and unwrapping gifts with my family. I hadn’t been home before dark for a couple of months.

Lying in the middle of the floor of the center were a stack of parcels about four feet tall. There had been a late feeder arrive in Indianapolis that morning and consequently the parcels had missed the morning sort. The parcels were unloaded and sent to the extended centers during the day, and were waiting for us when we returned.

We were to find anything in the stack that was on our delivery area and go back out and deliver them. Man, I would sooner get hit with a blivet stick than go back out there. My delivery area is thirty five miles south of here, and I live fifteen miles north. But I knew I couldn’t enjoy my Christmas if I knew there was a parcel for some little kid in that pile and he or she wasn’t going to be able to get it before Christmas.

Reluctantly, hoping against hope I began looking for something. Thankfully, I found nothing that was on my area. I did find a couple addressed to my home town, I picked them up, grabbed a couple of delivery sheets and headed off to Batesville in my pick-up truck, delivering them on my way home.

The forgotten gifts were all delivered that evening; some drivers didn’t get home until after nine pm.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

The Early Days Of UPS

photo of UPS plaque

The plaque located on the exact spot where UPS first began operations

Written By: Gary Wonning

There were benefits to working at night. Naturally, living in Indiana, one is never far from a basketball hoop. No building is ever complete without one either inside or outside the building. Conveniently, in this situation, one was inside, so the night shift, which consisted of the mechanic and myself, always included at least one game of horse or one on one. Occasionally a driver or two would stop by and we could get a real game up.

In the early days things were pretty loose, our center manager normally was nowhere to be found and we were about eighty miles from Indianapolis, so most of the time we could operate under the radar. It was a time before time clocks. If a driver was running late due to a card game or he found a coon dog for sale, he could just write in the time he was supposed to be in instead of the time he actually returned, as long as he looked good on paper, nothing was said.

photo of purification

An oil for many uses

I remember one time a driver arrived back at the center and cautiously asked if any management was around, once the porter answered there wasn’t, he proceeded to unload two calves from the back of his car. Another time a driver was seen unloading some live chickens, not to mention the time a motorcycle was spotted being off loaded. Ah, those were the days.

They ended way too soon.

capiture of a ups driver making a delivery

A UPS driver making a delivery to a beautiful blonde

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

 

It’s Gotta Be The Shorts:Dealing With Unions

 

capiture of a ups driver making a delivery

A UPS driver making a delivery to a beautiful blonde

Written By; Gary Wonning

All UPS employees were required to join the Teamsters Union. I had never been a strong union person but it wasn’t a real big issue for me until the following year. In 1968 there was a major strike at the largest industry in Batesville Indiana.

Some issues needed to be resolved and bordered on being inhumane. The company was unbending and left with little choice, the union called a strike. It was a relatively small union and most employees didn’t belong to it.

At the time, judging by the way everything all came down, I thought the union saw this as an opportunity to make a name for themselves.

It got ugly real quick. Hench men were soon cavorting around in the late evening hours shooting at and dynamiting homes of management and others who decided to work. It was common to hear gunfire and explosions as darkness fell, and late into the night.

My dad worked at the company as an hourly employee, he honored the strike and saw a need for it, and he never crossed the picket line. After about two weeks of this nonsense, he had enough, some of his friends’ homes were getting shot at.

He was one to never back down from anyone and out of a desire to not support something he didn’t believe in, he decided to go to work and support his friends and buddies. Many of these people who were getting shot at he had known all his life and were like family to him.

A neighbor lady decided to go back to work also. Dad had a little Corvair at the time, so for whatever reason, they decided to cross the picket line in that little car. Approaching the picket line, he floored the little bug and cranked the steering wheel as hard as he could and slammed on the brakes. He slid sideways through the picket line. Obviously, the picketers weren’t too happy as they scrambled out of the way of the tiny missile.

I was not living at home anymore, but a couple of nights later, my parents’ home was hit with gunfire, some of which went through the living room picture window and became lodged in the wall. If someone had been in the room they could have been killed.

My little brother, who was fourteen at the time, went to get the mail at the end of the driveway the next day and picked up something lying by the mailbox. Not knowing what it was he brought it in the house, it was three sticks of unexploded dynamite.

My opinion of unions declined rapidly and I even considered quitting so I didn’t have to belong to an organization that tried to kill my family.

I decided to stick it out, my quitting wouldn’t solve anything and it was a good job. I didn’t belong to the same union that created the havoc; I would just handle the union issues on my own and not support them any more than I had to. I soon learned to solve my issues on my own, like my dad had taught me when I was a small whippersnapper.

I soon learned that in most cases the only people they really helped were the ones who were looking for a reason to need the union, and in many cases only protected the jobs of those who should have been fired.

The only time we ever saw a union representative was before a political election. They would drive the two hundred miles from Chicago and tell us how to vote. We would then tell them we knew how to vote and gave them directions back to Chicago.

I did make good money and enjoyed excellent benefits, but UPS paid top wages and benefits before the union became involved. They paid top dollar, even during the depression. Their belief was that they would pay good money, but they asked for a good day’s work in return. I see nothing wrong with that.

And I knew, if things ever turned ugly, the union would do the same thing that happened in Batesville in 1968.

In the end, people who work for a large corporation need some sort of representation, conflicts do come up, and for now the union seems to be the only answer, and I did benefit from having a union job.

As with everything in life, there are good points and not so good points.

photo of a distinguished older gentleman

Wisdom lost through the ages, common sense is no longer common.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,www.journeysthrulife.com.

Your comments are welcome

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