Shut Up and Let Me Drink My Smoothie!

Just a few days ago, I went to a coffee shop that I visit when my favorite shop is closed. Not great coffee, but since it was hot I wanted a smoothie anyway. I was working on a project past deadline, and I absolutely had to complete it. It was about 8:00; my was putting my daughter to bed, and since my presence in the house can sometimes get my daughter worked up at bedtime, I decided to work in the coffee shop. The atmosphere of this particular coffee shop is pretty decent. There is a mixture of incandescent and dim fluorescent lighting. They have several cafe tables with comfortable chairs. Local art hangs on the walls, and there is a large seating area at the center of the shop with two large chairs, a coffee table, magazines, and a sofa. It's a nice place with the fragrance of coffee beans hanging in the air.

I ordered my smoothie, grabbed a seat at one of the tables, opened my Powerbook, and sat down to start writing. My smoothie was up, so I stopped writing, grabbed the drink and headed back to my seat. Upon returning to my seat, my attention was drawn to a boisterous voice coming through the door. I looked up to see that the woman's frame matched her voice. I don't mean she was obese. I mean she was a large-framed woman. She was dressed like some sort of glammed-up hippie with knee-high high-heeled boots. She was a presence that demanded one's attention. I tried to ignore her. But then two other women came in and joined her. When the other two ladies arrived, they were carrying a sound system and a large keyboard. The conversation that ensued was even louder than the first woman's pronouncements. It became obvious that this was some sort of music group.

Now music groups in coffee shops are normal. Just two days before, I was leading a Bible study in this same coffee shop to the tune of a really spacey yet jazzy instrumental three-piece. But this act was nothing like that. While I am sitting there attempting to block out their obnoxious conversation, this woman starts making demands. She asks for the tables in the back to be moved to the front near the music (in her words) "so that we can have more seating." She asks for the lights to be changed - the light I was using! Then she had the audacity to crank up the keyboard and ask, "Hey...can you in the back hear this keyboard?"

Here's the thing: she assumed that everyone in the shop was there to hear her. How is it that we can be so egotistical? How could this woman actually think that her music is desirable to everyone at any given time. I'm sure her music was fine, but I was not there in that coffee shop to listen to a concert. I was there to work. Coffee shops are for working, talking, sipping, reading, and sometimes doing all of that to a soundtrack provided by a band somewhere in the background. This egotistical woman somehow got it in her head that her presence changed all that. This coffee shop suddenly had no seats away from the band. The lighting was being changed. And the background music was being moved to the forefront. The coffee shop was no longer a coffee shop. It was now a music venue.

Now I wish I could tell you that I stood up, grabbed one of the tables and moved it to the back of the room. I wish I could tell you that I turned the lights back on. I really wish I could tell you that I walked up to the woman, told her I was not there to hear her, and asked her to turn it down. But I didn't. I got up, closed my computer, took the rest of my smoothie, and walked out the door.

Why do we allow people this kind of social irresponsibility?

Still Here...

My wife and I were away from home this past weekend. I guess you could call it a long weekend. We were gone Friday through Tuesday. Anyway, we touched down at an airport two hours away from home right on time, found our car in the long-term parking lot, and began the two-hour drive home. Ninety minutes into the drive my phone rang. It was a pastor friend of mine. He is a friend, but he's not one of the friends I talk to on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. So when his name and number popped up on my caller ID, I wondered what was going on. I answered the phone by calling his name and adding something like, "How's it going?" He replied, "Hello, Jonathan. Have you received any phone calls about your health?"

Now I must admit, that seemed a strange question.

"No I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it appears that a radio station has reported the murder of someone named Jonathan Yarboro. One of our college students heard it, knew who you were (Do you like the past tense there?), called me, and asked if I knew anything about it. I told him I didn't but that I would call you and see if I could find anything out."

I laughed. "No, I have not been murdered. Everything is fine."

He replied, "Well, I'm glad to hear your voice."

My response: "I'm glad you're hearing my voice too!"

At first, it was funny. Then it got a little creepy. Then I wondered what would have happened had I not answered my phone when my friend called. Would he have left a message? What would it have said?

Oh well. I guess that's one of those questions I'll never know for sure. But it could be fun to comment on here? What do you think is the proper etiquette for leaving a message for someone you think could possibly be dead?

Okay...I'm getting angry again...

You know, it's been quite a while since I last posted on Hear the Yawp. I guess that's for a couple of reasons. I have fallen prey to my own enemy - busy-ness. Yeah. I hate it. You don't get time to think. You don't get time to process things. You don't get time to spend with all the people you want to hang out with. And in the case of Hear the Yawp, there is just not a whole lot of "yawp-sounding." It's like the bumper sticker says, "If you're not irate, you're not paying attention. I suppose I haven't been paying enough attention!

So here's to paying more attention...

I will rant. Soon. And very soon.

Small Hammers Can Be Useful Too!

I've recently received quite a bit of flack for not updating this thing, and just to satisfy the people-pleaser in me, I have decided to write this post. Who knows what might happen! I might just start updating regularly again.

Yesterday my church Intaglio helped this family out in our town. The lady has terminal cancer of some sort, and she recently got a powered wheelchair (yea, the kind that takes you to see things like the Grand Canyon and the Statue of Liberty in TV commercials). The problem is that she couldn't get the thing out of her house. Someone had come and attempted to build her a ramp, but some work needed to be done to it so that she could actually use it. I'll get to those details later.

The plan was to meet at 9:00 AM and drive to the family's house together in order to be there by 9:30.

9:00. I arrive. Puck was there waiting on me. He had no tools. We went inside to get the address of the house and wait on everyone to arrive.

9:05. Kate, one of the girls in our church, showed up next. Now I should mention two things here: 1) I was expecting all guys because of the nature of the work (old-fashioned but true) and 2) Of all the girls in our church (next to my wife), Kate would be the last person I would expect to show up to help build a wheelchair ramp.

We waited.

9:25. Drake drives up. He had a hammer, level, tape measure, Skill saw, and drop cord.

Just to sum it up so far. We have a construction job, four people, and two hammers.

9:35. Coy drives up. No tools.

Just to sum it up again: construction job, five people, two hammers.

We arrive at the house at 9:45. Five people. Three cars. Two hammers.

The existing structure was a 4'x4' deck with an unrailed bridge suspended above the sidewalk from the deck to the top of the concrete steps at the driveway. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, was to pull off the existing railing on the deck, extend it three feet out, put up a new railing on the deck and add a railing on both sides of the ramp/bridge. All to code. All to match the existing structure. All with four men, one lady, and two hammers. We chose to accept.

10:30. Railing deconstructed. Posts erected. Dickson calls: "I'm running a little late, but I'm on my way. Do you need anything?"

Yeah. Hammers.

10:35. Kate leaves to go get us coffee, muffins, and the hammer she has at her house.

10:45. Dickson arrives. Hammers are distributed. And then Dickson puts on his brand new tool belt with brand new shiny tools. Drake starts mocking the yuppie tool belt, and Dickson gives some excuse about his old tools being moldy and how he had to get new ones.

11:00. Kate arrives and promptly gives out coffee and muffins. Then she produces the hammer. It was small. The kind of tapping hammer one uses to hang pictures. It reminded me of the rock hammer Tim Robbins used in The Shawshank Redemption. Needless to say, everyone laughed. Kate's response is valid: "At least I have a hammer." But it doesn't stop the remarks! I think the highlight comes from Coy as Kate is tapping in a four inch long galvanized nail: "Give it hell, Kate! Give it hell!" It was hilarious.

But when 2:00 finally rolled around and we were packing up our tools and admiring our work, I noticed something: Kate's contribution. Kate bought everyone coffee and muffins. Kate was the one to mark the placement of each picket. Kate was the one to hold each picket in place as we nailed it to the rail. Kate was the one to get us all laughing. Kate was the one that made the day memorable.

When it was all over, it was the college girl and her tiny hammer that made the day.