I move the enitre tlburiss.com site to a new wordpress hosting.
My intent is only to keep these articles until I am ready to shut it all down.
Or, maybe I’ll get back into writing again
Are you Listening to me
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I move the enitre tlburiss.com site to a new wordpress hosting.
My intent is only to keep these articles until I am ready to shut it all down.
Or, maybe I’ll get back into writing again
Up betimes. Called up by my tailor, and there first put on a summer suit this year; but it was not my fine one of flowered tabby vest, and coloured camelott tunique, because it was too fine with the gold lace at the hands, that I was afeard to be seen in it; but put on the stuff suit I made the last year, which is now repaired; and so did go to the Office in it, and sat all the morning, the day looking as if it would be fowle. At noon home to dinner, and there find my wife extraordinary fine, with her flowered tabby gown that she made two years ago, now laced exceeding pretty; and, indeed, was fine all over; and mighty earnest to go, though the day was very lowering; and she would have me put on my fine suit, which I did. And so anon we went alone through the town with our new liveries of serge, and the horses’ manes and tails tied with red ribbons, and the standards there gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green refines, that people did mightily look upon us; and, the truth is, I did not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than ours, all the day. But we set out, out of humour—I because Betty, whom I expected, was not come to go with us; and my wife that I would sit on the same seat with her, which she likes not, being so fine: and she then expected to meet Sheres, which we did in the Pell Mell, and, against my will, I was forced to take him into the coach, but was sullen all day almost, and little complaisant: the day also being unpleasing, though the Park full of coaches, but dusty and windy, and cold, and now and then a little dribbling rain; and, what made it worst, there were so many hackney-coaches as spoiled the sight of the gentlemen’s; and so we had little pleasure. But here was W. Batelier and his sister in a borrowed coach by themselves, and I took them and we to the lodge; and at the door did give them a syllabub, and other things, cost me 12s., and pretty merry. And so back to the coaches, and there till the evening, and then home, leaving Mr. Sheres at St. James’s Gate, where he took leave of us for altogether, he; being this night to set out for Portsmouth post, in his way to Tangier, which troubled my wife mightily, who is mighty, though not, I think, too fond of him. But she was out of humour all the evening, and I vexed at her for it, and she did not rest almost all the night, so as in the night I was forced; to take her and hug her to put her to rest. So home, and after a little supper, to bed.
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Today my Dad was laid to rest 82 years, to the day, from when he was born.
He did what God wanted him to do in his life and now he is done.
Because of the pandemic, I am not able to see my Dad, one last time.
However;
I can clearly see my Dad as he swings a bat and hits a softball farther than any Dad had ever hit a ball. Over and over again as the sun sets over Sugarloaf Mountain.
I can clearly see my Dad tirelessly working his side business, after a long day at his full-time electrician’s job, to create the money needed to raise his family.
I can clearly see my Dad as he helped me learn how to build things, fix things, and even tear things apart & put them back together again.
I can clearly see my Dad when I worked alongside him learning about electricity, construction, welding, metalworking, automotive stuff, and plumbing.
I can clearly see my Dad as he said to me, “Don’t worry about stuff you can’t change.” (I relearned this later in life as well.)
I can clearly see my Dad as he drove an old topless Willys Jeep through the blinding snow to get a 55-gallon barrel of fuel oil for our furnace, never once complaining about doing it.
I can clearly see my Dad looking me in the eye after I wrecked his truck, and without raising his voice or getting mad he said, “Fix it.” (I did)
I can clearly see my Dad as he did what he could do to help others. I never heard him complain about anything he had to do or turn down helping those he could help.
I can clearly see my Dad as I held the flashlight for him while he worked on something that needed to be fixed. Yes, I too remember him saying, “Over here boy, I’m not working over there,” as I let the light drift away.
I can clearly see my Dad with what he needed to live a good life. No fancy new cars or trucks, no whiz-bang tools or expensive man toys. I never heard my Dad say, “I wish I had…” I learned the value of living a simple & blessed life from my Dad. It’s made a huge difference in my life as I strive to also live a simple and blessed life.
I can clearly see my Dad pulling a calf out of the frozen pool and back into the stable to recuperate. To me, he was a hero saving our calf. (BTW – some of the best hamburgers ever).
I can clearly see my Dad numerous times over the years, in the hospital, sometimes facing death, often in pain, maybe showing a little fear, but never complaining.
I can clearly see my Dad leaving the house every morning before the sun rose to drive to work, never complaining about the drive or the long hours on the construction sites he worked.
I can clearly see my Dad doing what God wanted him to do; raising and caring for his family, even helping his children once they were grown and needed his help. I never heard him complain as he did what he could.
I won’t be able to see my Dad as he is being laid to rest. But I can clearly see my Dad from all the memories I have and I know I’ll be able to continue seeing him as I continue my life.
Rest in Peace Dad.
Love, Teddy Lee Burriss Jr.
20 years ago this week, 2/12/1997, the entire Burriss Tribe, Teddy, Rebecca, Jessie, Rachel, Megan & Lauren hopped in the Honda mini-van and headed south to Advance North Carolina.
The journey began around November of 1996 with a potential move to New Jersey. However before we made the move north we got notice North Carolina would be where my job would finally be based.
The move to North Carolina was chaotic and emotional. We left a new community and new school systems into an older community with older less technological schools.
It took lots of work, patience and prayers to transition the teen age and pre-teen daughters through this change. However, within three months the emotions calmed and happiness began to develop for the entire family.
20 years later the girls (aka Myrtles) have all moved out of the house and into their own homes and developing families.
The family has grow significantly to include 4 men (aka the Stallions), 10 GrandWeWaps (grandkids), three new dogs and a few cats and chickens.
Our network of friends have grown significantly and our community involvement continues to grow in many different ways.
We all loved Maryland and our friends and home in Monrovia.
Today, we all love having moved into North Carolina, our friends and businesses we have built down here.
Thank you North Carolina for welcoming us into this state.
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I know I am a blessed man. Here are some of the reasons I have that remind me of this every day.
I realize that I am far more blessed than I deserve. I know that many people in my community and in the world are far less fortunate than I am.
I ask God every day to help me to do what I can to help others knowing that only when I give can I receive. I know giving is important and being able what I can is not a requirement or a responsibility to me. Rather giving back to others is a life purpose and a blessing for me.
I am blessed. Thank you God for all of my blessings.
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Today is January 3, 2016.
34 years ago the announcement that may have been printed in the local paper would have said, “Mr Teddy Burriss & his lovely wife Rebecca (aka Bum) are the proud parents of a bouncing baby girl.”
I asked them not to print that because I had yet to see our newborn baby bounce. And, Rebecca did not want me to test her.
True story – As an infant, I dropped her once and I was not testing the bounce theory.
Fast forward to yesterday when this observation of being the Father of a 34 year old really hit me.
I decided to look back at the past 34 years and review the memories.
Here are the ones that came to mind the quickest, not necessarily in chronological order:
My daughter – Jessie Lee.
I am a blessed Man. I have four beautiful smart, compassionate daughters. Each raising their own family. Being a Blessed Dad kicked off for me 34 years ago.
Happy Birthday Jessie
I love you
Dad
Here are some images that sparked my memories
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“All I expect from my children is that they find a way to become a contributing member of society.” Sometimes I continue with, “It does not matter to me what you do, just do something that adds some value to your community.” I’ve changed my view of this edict. (more…)
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Last weekend (8/23/2014) I spent time in the NICU of Mission Children’s Hospital when our newest GrandWeWap Twins were born that morning. My second daughter Rachel and her husband Sid Trivette, the proud parents were there with my wife, Rebecca (aka Bum) and two other daughters (Jessie & Lauren).
Abigail & Rosalee had challenges, yet I prayed and believed that God would guide the good folks at the hospital to safely get the girls thru this period in their young lives.
Abigail and Rosalee were nearly 5lb babies and born at approximately 34 weeks (full term births are between 37 & 42 weeks).
While waiting for the nurse and doctors to take care of our girls, I walked the NICU floor and saw many other children that believed needed our prayers.
That weekend there were 48 babies in this NICU. At least nine sets of twins according to one of the nurses working there.
As I walked around I saw lots of babies being taken care of by dozens of doctors and nurses. There were portable x-ray equipment moving around the floor, lots of equipment being monitored and medical supplies, drugs and fluids being distributed. It was a very busy and emotional place to be.
I saw and looked into the faces of lots of anxious parents. I saw excitement, fear and hope all bundled up in the eyes of these parents. I intentionally shared a smile with each glance and often received a smile back.
I continued quietly walking the floor until I came back to section C where our girls were. I walked up to Abigail and gave her a “Boppy” finger hug. She hugged me back with her tiny little fingers. I walked over to Rosalee, hugged her finger as well and she returned the hug too.
Today (Monday September 1, 2014) I got an email message from some professional friends at The Green Shoe Studios that reminded me that I live a blessed life.
With, 9 Grandkids, four daughters and their respective partners and my wife of 34 some odd years, my life is filled with excitement, happiness and love. We have our challenges, but all in all I live a very blessed life.
When I read the message from Green Shoe Studios and watched the YouTube video I knew I should share it with you.
Watch this video, listen to the story and then think for a moment, do you too live a blessed life? If you feel the desire, do what you want and can to help Aiden and his family. And, take another moment and lift a prayer for NICU babies.
Thanks for letting me share this with you.
Teddy
I originally wrote “How Many Mikes do you know.”
Here is what I discovered about the women in my LinkedIn Network.
Out of now 3890 people, here is a list of the women’s names that showed up 10 or more times each.
First Name | Count |
Lisa | 41 |
Mary | 29 |
Susan | 26 |
Jennifer | 22 |
Karen | 21 |
Julie | 20 |
Linda | 19 |
Robin | 19 |
Donna | 18 |
Ashley | 17 |
Amy | 16 |
Ann | 16 |
Kimberly | 16 |
Lori | 16 |
Stephanie | 16 |
Angela | 15 |
Barbara | 14 |
Deborah | 14 |
Amanda | 13 |
Beth | 13 |
Kim | 12 |
Laura | 12 |
Melissa | 12 |
Tracy | 12 |
Denise | 11 |
Elizabeth | 11 |
Heather | 11 |
Kathryn | 11 |
Pam | 11 |
Sharon | 11 |
Tammy | 11 |
Teresa | 11 |
Brenda | 10 |
Cheryl | 10 |
Debbie | 10 |
Katherine | 10 |
Michelle | 10 |
Rachel | 10 |
Sarah | 10 |
Each of these individuals are unique in their own right, even though, not in name.
I hope you enjoyed this little un-scientific research.
Teddy
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I recently heard a speaker say this, “I hated holding the flashlight for my Dad.”
The speaker continued on with his perspective of this simple little task. He told how as a little boy his Dad always asked him to hold the flashlight while working on various tasks that needed just a little more light. Fixing a blown fuse, a broken light fixture, switch, or something on the old Plymouth. What he remembers the most was when, (not if) the beam of light drifted from the work area, his Dad would snort which alerted this young man to pull the flashlight back into position. He hated doing this.
I remember these days as well.
As a youngster in the mid-1960s & ’70s, I held the flashlight and did many other simple tasks for my Dad.
I carried and fetched tools, pulled weeds, dug holes, filled holes, used a sickle, swept the shop floor, wire brushed the spots Dad welded, stuck welding rods in the holder (I was always scared I would get shocked), siphoned gasoline, sanded the wood & metal projects, washed the cars, washed engine parts in gasoline, hauled fuel oil for the furnace, scrapped paint, held pieces of metal and wood as my Dad cut them, welded nailed or glued them together, washed his truck, scrubbed the tires, planted potatoes (eyes up) and pulled the electrical wire through conduit. These are just a few of the little tasks that I did with my Dad as a child and young adult. Often as I did these and many other tedious tasks, my Dad stood watching and coaching me on how to do them right.
Back then I was not always happy doing that stuff.
Today, I appreciate that I got to do them for a couple of big reasons:
When my girls were home I had them hold the flashlight for me. I snorted at them just a little bit when the beam of light fell away from the work area and they pulled the flashlight back into place. I hope they learned as much from me as I learned from my Dad.
Who is holding your flashlight and are they learning from you?
Happy Fathers Day Dad. I love you and treasure the days of holding the flashlight.
Back in August 2013, I got nailed by the North Carolina State police, again.
This time the mini was cruising along at 70+ mph in a 55 mph portion of Rt 220 North of Greensboro.
I thought about downshifting, slamming the throttle open further and trying to outrun the Dodge Charger the cop had, but Bum was with me. All she had to do was give me the eye, and I downshifted and pulled off the side of the road.
The kind officer had a smile and a pleasant voice as he gave me a $30 fine that came with $183 court cost fee for doing 70 mph in a 55mph zone. Crap!
Knowing that admitting to this would crank up my insurance, I vowed to fight this ticket to the very end.
I was going to court.
I got my driving record (downloaded from NC DMV for $12) and waited a few weeks for my court date.
I got up early, worked out, ate a big breakfast and headed off to Wentworth NC in Rockingham County by 7 AM. Bum warned me about speeding, so I left the house early.
I arrived at the Rockingham County Courthouse and you would have thought I was in downtown Atlanta. Big brick building with pillars and what looked like gold lettering on the front of the building.
I knew better than to take my switch-blade and Glock into a courthouse, so I left them in the car with the cell phone. All I had on me was the $213 for the ticket, my driving record, license, and car keys.
When I got to the second floor, there were already 50 people waiting in line. While they escorted us all into the courtroom another 150 people showed up. They seated us as the clerk and judge setup for traffic court.
I got to sit in front of some guy who sounded like the phone call comic Willie Richardson. His voice and the ridiculous stories he was telling about beating up a cop, getting arrested for hitting his old lady and drinking so much beer that he passed out as he blew a .057 on the breathalyzer after wrecking his car, reminded me of Willie’s CDs.
One after another we walked up to the judge with our ticket, license and either our driving record or driving school certificate. The people without their driving record or a driving school certificate were immediately told to go away and come back on October 29 with either their driving record or the driving school certificate. After seeing 15-20 people do this, I gave up trying to figure out why anyone would show up to court without being prepared.
If the infraction was a driving violation, the judge would say, “I can reduce this to Improper Equipment. Is this what you want?”
With no hesitation, each violator said, “Yes ma’am.” The judge would check a box on the ticket and say, “You are free to go. Pay the clerk of the court outside the courtroom.”
The same thing happened with me, “I can reduce your ticket to improper equipment, is this what you want?”
“Yes, ma’am,” was my response as well.
With my eleven $20 bills in my hand, I went to see the Clerk of the Court. “That will be $263, sir,” she said to me.
My reply must have been a normal response, “I thought the ticket was $213.”
Her reply, somewhat agitated in a manner was, “Sir the ticket is for $30, court costs are $183 and the charge for reducing the penalty is $50. Are you paying the $263 in cash now?”
My response, not having all the money and not just a little more miffed at this entire process was less than polite, “Wow, I knew this process was screwed up, but now it’s clear to me that the logic of this entire civil penalty activity is quite ill. Where is the nearest ATM ma’am?”
“At the sheriff’s office around the corner sir.”
“Thank you so very much for all your assistance ma’am. I will return.”
And I did. When I got back from the ATM machine I handed her 14 crisp $20 bills. She banged on the keyboard a little, hopefully saving me from the insurance points, put my $20 bills in her cash drawer and handed me back $17 and a receipt.
She sort of shooed me away with, “have a good day sir.”
And off I went.
$30 speeding penalty
$183 Court Costs
$50 penalty reduction fee
$263 total penalty for driving the mini cooper a smidgen too fast in Rockingham County North Carolina and not trying to outrun a Dodge Charger.
I’d say I’ve learned my lesson, but my record shows this is hard for me to do.
by
Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that my offices are every coffee shop and a few local pubs in the Triad area of NC. Here is a map of many of them.
Here are 10 reasons I like to use local coffee shops as my office:
I know these offices may not be the best for everyone, but they sure do work well for me.
Follow me on FourSquare if you want to know when I’m in the office
Thanks, @FinnegansWake, @NattyGreene, @Starbucks, @TheGreenBean & @Krankies.
by
Thanks to my buddy Rick for sharing this with me. Now, I’ll share it with you.
The nicest thing about the future is . . .
that it always starts tomorrow.
Money will buy a fine dog . . .
but only kindness will make him wag his tail.
If you don’t have a sense of humor . . .
you probably don’t have any sense at all.
Seat belts are not as confining . . .
as wheelchairs.
A good time to keep your mouth shut is . . .
when you’re in deep water.
How come it takes so little time for a child who is afraid of the dark . .
to become a teenager who wants to stay out all night?
Business conventions are important . . .
because they demonstrate how many people a company can operate without.
Why is it that at class reunions . . .
you feel younger than everyone else looks?
Scratch a cat (or dog) . . .
and you will have a permanent job.
No one has more driving ambition than the teenage boy (or girl) . . .
who wants to buy a car.
There are no new sins . . .
the old ones just get more publicity.
There are worse things than getting a call for a wrong number at 4 a.m. . .
like, it could be the right number.
No one ever says “It’s only a game” . . .
when their team is winning.
I’ve reached the age where . . .
‘happy hour’ is a nap.
Be careful about reading the fine print . . .
there’s no way you’re going to like it.
The trouble with bucket seats is that . . .
not everybody has the same size bucket.
Do you realize that, in about 40 years . . .
we’ll have thousands of old ladies running around with tattoos? (And rap music will be the Golden Oldies!)
Money can’t buy happiness . . .
but somehow it’s more comfortable to cry in a Cadillac than in a Yugo.
After 60, if you don’t wake up aching in every joint . . .
you’re probably dead.
Life isn’t tied with a bow . . .
but it’s still a gift.
I hope you enjoyed these statements.
by
A friend of mine wrote this in her journal and shared it with us this week.
I liked it so much I asked her for permission to share it with you.
Do you know THE Whole Secret for being happy in life?
Here is how she answered this question:
“I love it when people ask me to tell them my secret for BEING HAPPY because I don’t really have a secret other than:
That’s pretty much THE WHOLE SECRET.
It was January 1997 when I learned about Forklifts, inclines, and gravity.
I was preparing to move my family to North Carolina and had to dispose of a bunch of stuff out of the house. One of these items was the old water heater. Rather than haul it to the landfill and pay the disposal fee, I decided to take it to one of the warehouses of the company I worked for, Lofts Seed.
I loaded the heater into the back of my little red step-side pickup truck and headed off to the warehouse.
It was bulky and heavy, but I was able to get it up and into the back of the truck by myself.
If was a Sunday and no one would be at the warehouse. I called the warehouse manager to get permission to throw the heater in the dumpster. He said no problem.
When I got to the warehouse I decided to use one of the forklifts to carry the heater out back to the dumpster.
The dumpster I wanted to put the heater into was out back, next to the forklift ramp that led out of the warehouse.
I headed through the warehouse to the back dock door with the heater on top of the forks. As I headed to the ramp I started raising the forks into the air so that they would be above the top edge of the dumpster.
As I headed down the ramp, raising the forks higher and higher into the air, I turned the forklift to the left towards the dumpster.
Can you see it yet, forks about 12 feet in the air, big heavy forklift moving downward, then sideways on an incline?
I’m not a physicist, but I quickly learned about inertia, gravity, incline, weight, motion and instant FEAR!!!
As the forks reached over the top of the dumpster the forklift began to fall over to the right, down the ramp. Fortunately for me, and my desire to continue living, the forks caught on the edge of the dumpster, with me and the forklift sitting at about a 45° angle to the ground.
I managed to hang onto the steering wheel, hook my feet on the clutch and brake pedals so that I did not fall off and possibly under the forklift.
The front drive wheels of the forklift were off the ground, so I did not have to worry about it moving, yet I still reached down and shut off the engine.
I sat there, hanging onto the steering wheel and roll bars as I pondered what to do next. Wisely (where did that come from), I decided to climb up on top (actually left side) of the forklift and jump off, up the ramp. I felt there was less danger than climbing off, under and down the ramp.
I stood there for a few minutes pondering what to do next. More wisdom arose in me, so I called the warehouse manager.
“Hey John, this is Teddy. I screwed up. I accidentally flipped one of your forklifts over down the ramp. I don’t think it’s hurt, but there is no way I can get it back up on its wheels. What should I do?”
There was no laughter in his voice as he told me to, “Go home. Leave it where alone and we’ll fix it on Monday.”
I apologized for the problem that I created and left.
About a week later I came by his warehouse for a meeting. We sat in his office discussing a project we were working on. The forklift story came up briefly. He told me that his guys had to get a tow truck to pull it backup upright. I offered to pay for the tow truck. He told me he’d get the cost out of me somehow. He did ask me to promise that I would never get on any company forklifts. I promised.
I eventually got involved in the plumbing, electronic programming, and production line design & build.
After the plant was built, I ended up being the assistant plant manager. It was a cool job because of the dynamics and diversity.
I have lots of stories from working at Neutron Products including Chocolate Cheese. I worked with a lot of good people. We had a good time while making pretty good money for the late 1970’s & early 1980’s.
I left Neutron Products around 1986 to start my career in computers and technology.
My fellow employees got together and planned a picnic as my going away party.
I looked at a Google Maps view of Neutron Products. The Table is still there
There was no public drinking of beer at this party. Regardless, we had a blast. Laughing and joking and recalling all the stuff we had done over nearly the past ten years.
Times were different back then and so was the way we celebrated them. We all laughed and joked as we recalled these and many other stories of working at Neutron Products.
I’ll never forget the Crab Feast party at Neutron Products. It was the best going away party ever.