When things go real bad.

Well, goody goody gum drops. When you think positive, things rarely go bad right? Right? Uh???? Well, this one guy at the ticket counter was acting kind of like should I say, "Unmannlyish"? I bursted out because I couldn't help it, "Hurry up I'm tired of waiting you little fairy"!!! I couldn't believe I said this out loud, and then the guy came around the counter as though to teach me some lesson. He raised his arm, but I blocked it like karate style, grabbed him on his shirt collar, and flipped him to the terminal pavement real like KAPOW, hard! He then asked me what my name was, what my employee number was. I said, "Yea, really? You want more"? To the amazement of all the nonrevs and passangers waiting to go on board, they all clapped. I got first class. You don't believe me? Ask the blind man, he saw it too.

Which really reminds me of that story back in grade school.

One bright day in the middle of the night
two dead boys got up to fight
back to back they faced each other
drew their swords and shot each other
a deaf policeman heard this noise
came and shot the two dead boys
if you do not believe this lie
ask the blind man, he saw it too.

Ok, enough of the nonsense. Go here...... www.chicagotheband.com I was watching them tonight on tv, recorded them. Dam they're good!!! They've gotten like wine, great with age.

Here is another interesting grade school story I heard from the books in classroom studies.


The Landlord's Tale. Paul Revere's Ride


By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807–1882 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,—
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, —
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay, —
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled, —
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm, —
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

"Listen my children and you shall hear"?

Thought it was "GATHER MY CHILDREN FOR YOU SHALL HEAR".

Of course, that was a long time ago.

But this is the REAL STORY about Paul Revere's Midnight Ride

Gather round my children and you shall hear
About the midnight ride of Paul Revere
He rode so fast
He broke his ass
He never returned to Boston Mass

How about a DELAWARE Paul Revere? His name??? Bet you never knew this one.

These daring, somewhat helter-skelter Delaware militia, were under the command of Brigadier-General Caesar Rodney. Rodney was a signer of the Declaration of Independence who would go on to be President of Delaware from December, 1777, to November, 1781.

Like Paul Revere, Caesar Rodney is famous for a midnight ride. Rodney's ride ended up at the doorstep of Independence Hall where he cast the decisive Delaware vote for Independence. On June 30, a motion for Independence had been put forward with nine colonies voting for independence, two voting against, New York abstaining while the Delaware delegates had split their vote. Delaware delegate Thomas McKean was in favor of independence, while George Read voted against. Rodney, also a delegate form Delaware was absent during this vote. While there was technically enough support to carry the motion, the Continental Congress didn't want to go forward and declare independence without unanimous support.

http://nonrev.net/images/thomasmckean.gif Charles Willson Peale, 1797, Portrait Gallery (Second Bank) Thomas McKean, delegate

Rodney had been away from Congress because his role as a Brigadier General in the Delaware militia, forced him back to Delaware to squelch a Loyalist riot. McKean got word to Rodney that his vote for independence was desperately needed in Congress. All night, as the first of July, 1776, turned into the second, Rodney rode through a thunderstorm. He covered 80 miles and arrived at Independence Hall's doorstep in time to cast his decisive vote. Years later Thomas McKean remembered meeting Rodney at the door "in his boots and spurs."

Rodney's vote decided the matter. Delaware was going to war.

Once the voting for independence concluded and debate resumed, Rodney is remembered for puncturing the self-importance of the Virginia delegates who believed they were the mighty rock on which independence rested."Let [Virginia] be of good cheer," he said, "she has a friend in need; Delaware will take her under its protection and insure her safety."

John Adams described Rodney as "...the oddest looking man in the world; he is tall, thin and slender as a reed, pale; his face is not bigger than a large apple, yet there is sense and fire, spirit, wit and humor in this countenance." It was not an appearance to quicken the heart of a woman, however, and it is said that Rodney remained a bachelor because Molly Vining, the woman he loved, married a rector -- and soon after died.