Neither Melted nor Homogenized

We Americans like to proclaim that our country is a melting pot.  People come to us from all over the world and are assimilated with ease and are welcomed. The reality is that people come here and are swallowed up by factions. They don’t become part of the whole.

People come here and are forced to simply choose to hide under labels. There are Native Americans, Mexican Americans, Irish Americans, Chinese Americans, Italian Americans, and on and on. Most of my people came from England, but I don’t call myself English American. A few of them came from Germany, but I don’t call myself a “German American” or a “Mostly English American.” The label thing ruins the melting pot idea by adding different alignments in thoughts and beliefs. Why can’t we all just be “Americans?”  If you recall, we left our home countries looking for something better. Going back to the label business, one of the ugliest is “white supremacy.” Having white skin doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Intellect, character and tolerance don’t reside within the skin. They are functions of brain and soul. Think about it.

When it comes to the melting pot, we could all do a little better. It would be great if we could drop the labels from our vocabulary.

Dave Thomas

10/1/2026

Thinking of Names

When not doing something constructive, such as lunch or a nap, I like to do some serious thinking. Today, I’m thinking of names. In particular, I’m thinking of names of people that are the same as the names of days of the week or months of the year.

Days of the week would be a bust if not for my friend, Warren Friday. Warren and I were high school classmates and got along well though we were not close. Warren became a career Army man, and I lost track of him for about 40 years. He was short and stocky and a heck of a nice guy and when we ran into each other at a reunion, I could see that he hadn’t changed a bit. Yes, he was still short and stocky, but the most important thing was that he was still a nice guy.  While in Europe, Warren married a nice lady from Germany or one of the nearby countries. My senility keeps me from remembering her name. Warren retired and was living in Oklahoma City. We traded emails and phone calls until he died. Sometimes when I called, Warren would be out of the house, and I got to visit with his wife. Nice lady.

I scored better with months of the year. We had a family in Augusta with the last name of January. Bill January must have been at least 5 or 6 years older than I was. He had a sister and maybe another brother.

Can’t do much with February, but March is a good one. Seems like there was an actor named Frederick March. Next, our Granddaughter, Christie, was going with a really nice young man named James Aprill. It didn’t go anywhere, so he went down the road.

May and June are good first names and are probably well-used as surnames. I don’t know anyone named July, but August is good. There was an actor named Dan August or maybe he was a character in a sit-com.

The rest of the months don’t look good for names. The guy that was always in the baseball news was called Mr. October, but I don’t think he signed his checks that way.

This has been interesting. I was able to entertain myself and stay out of trouble at the same time.

Dave Thomas

9/24/2016

Thanks to the floods, hailstorms, heat, drought, and wildfires, the reporters and network broadcasters have discussed that there are lands west of the Mississippi. Once they learn how to pronounce the names of cities, rivers, and places, we will get a lot more out of the news.

I am originally from Kansas and try to keep up with what’s going on out there. I’ve noticed that most reporters can say the word “Kansas” without stuttering or mumbling. However, if you add two characters to the front of it, they get all confused. The river that flows through Wichita is the Arkansas River. That’s the “R-Kansas” River, not the “R-Can-Saw” River.

The good people of that southern state have been grossly led astray. I hope they can someday learn how to pronounce the name of the state correctly.

Thank you for understanding. If you happen to know anyone at the networks, please send them a copy of this.

Dave Thomas

9/17/2026

I’ve been thinking of my hometown of Augusta, Butler County, Kansas. During the 1950’s, there was a sign at the edge of town. In large letters, it said “AUGUSTA” and below that, in smaller characters, it said “Home of 5,000 friends.” The 2020 census said there are now 9,000 people in town. What’s the deal with these extra 4,000 people? Are they retired folks? Are they people who work in Wichita, but want to have a home in a safe and quiet smaller town? Would you call Augusta a “bedroom” community now? Since the refinery and Loadcraft Industries (Spencer’s) are gone, there isn’t much of a need for a large work force. Probably most of the remaining jobs are in the local government administration these days.

I know it’s been a struggle to keep the downtown businesses healthy, but the last I heard, downtown is still viable. I hope that’s true. I always found it fun to visit, and it was also comforting to know that I could enter most any store and know the people who worked there. A person could handle the merchandise and ask questions, and the clerks or owners would happily give answers. They were always generous with their time, and very good about talking with kids as well.  I rode my bike all over town, and I think it’s safe to say that I knew someone on every block.

I know the last couple of years had to be tough for small towns, and I’m guessing the next couple may be hard, too.  Hopefully, the next administration will want to rebuild our democracy and economy. If so, there will be plenty of jobs and opportunities. It isn’t just the infrastructure, either. The people will need to put in a lot of work. The changes must take place in all of us. Don’t forget the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Augusta has always been a comfortable town to live in. I hope that vibe still applies.

Dave Thomas

9/3/2026

Today is August 27, 2026. The date may not mean much to you, but, in my case, it means that I am 90 years old today. I have been enjoying each day without giving any thought to the large number that I am now confronted with. Time flies, and the days add up. I’ll try not to bore you with a bunch of old guy stuff.

My mission today is to thank all of you who have read the stories. My granddaughter, Christie, set me up with this blog, and I hoped to entertain my kids, grandkids, and great grandkids with it. It’s been a real joy to discover that others might like it as well. My wife, Pat, and daughter, Terri, have contributed ideas and helped with the stories. I typed and posted the first 200 or so stories and then, after I lost my vision, Terri took over the typing and posting. She also looked up the statistics that I will share with you now. 461 stories have been posted. The stories have been viewed 11,500 times by people in the U.S. They have also been viewed in 72 other countries. I think that’s amazing.

This is also a good time to say thank you to the Veteran’s Administration. Thanks to them, this old guy who is legally blind can write stories to be posted to this blog. The VA keeps me healthy and has supplied video magnifiers and a text reader to make it possible. Some people take pleasure in criticizing them, but they get nothing but praise from me. The doctors, nurses, and technicians I’ve encountered have all been quality people. I love ‘em.

We have wondered how you all discovered us! The internet is a big and amazing place. It is amazing to me to hear from people all over the world. It has been my pleasure to tell  you these stories about our lives and interesting things that we have come across. I hope to be able to come up with a few more stories to entertain both you and I.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Dave Thomas

8/27/2026

Bob Scholl, Innovator

I like this story. It tells of a time when the world loosened up a little and didn’t take itself as seriously. I was working at Electro Instruments in San Diego, a relatively new company that was a pioneer in the design and manufacturing of digital measuring equipment. It must have been 1962 or 1963. Two MIT professors had designed the digital volt meter and were leading the field in both design and sales.

I was an Assistant Assembly Foreman. My job was to circulate on the assembly floor looking for workmanship and quality problems and providing help for the Group Leaders and for the assemblers. We had 45 or 50 electronic assemblers. Some of them were seasoned by jobs in places like IBM, G.E., and R.C.A.  I started as an hourly test technician in April of 1961 and worked my way up to a salaried Assistant Foreman job. Both jobs were interesting, and I learned a lot from both of them.

The building was new, and I don’t think the company had moved in until a few months before I came to work for them in 1961. The shell was complete as were all the offices in the front of the building. However, many of the workspaces still needed to be designed and configured. It was a challenge to figure out how many people and how much equipment would be required in each department work area. To give you an idea of the design challenge or headache, here are the departments I recall:  Electronic Assembly, Test, Sheet Metal/Machine Shop, Stock Room, Special Assembly, Systems Engineering, Print Shop (we printed our own manuals), Precision Resistor Manufacturing, Standards Lab, Cubicles for a half dozen engineers, Drafting Department, Manufacturing Engineer Department, Break Room, Quality Control, and Shipping.

On the west side of the assembly area, a strip of space was to become the main hallway. It would run from the door of the front offices to the breakroom.

Up until sometime in the 1960’s, the dress code was as strict as that of West Point. Managers, Supervisors, foremen, engineers and all bosses were expected to wear dress slacks or the trousers of a business suit, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a matching tie. I was told that this unwritten rule came from places back East like IBM, GE, and RCA. There was no question about that being the standard, and it was practiced from coast to coast. The guy with a white shirt and tie was in charge. Look no further.

Bob Scholl was a manufacturing engineer. He was about 40, well-liked, sharply dressed, and well-groomed. His shoes were shined, and he was just a heck of a nice guy. Bob’s job was to write plans, develop estimates, and help on the assembly floor by answering questions. He was a real gentleman, and I liked him a lot.

It was after 7:30 am, and the 8:00 am staffers had begun coming through the door from the front offices as they headed for the breakroom to get a cup of coffee and get their day started. The door opened again and, this time, it was Bob Scholl and some of his cohorts from Manufacturing Engineering. But was that really Bob? He was wearing a long-sleeved pink shirt, gray pants, and a matching tie.  The room started buzzing and all eyes were focused on the hallway. “Holy smoke! Is that Bob?”  “They will fire him for this!” “He’s history!!”  Most of the comments had to do with questions about whether or not Bob would be fired for this transgression. At the morning break, the situation was thoroughly reviewed, and it was determined to be too trivial to worry about but simply became the object of teasing. Bob was touted to be the man responsible for a cultural revolution.

Life in the factory got back to normal, and Bob was to resume being the nice, quiet guy he had always been. Pastel colors began appearing on many articles of clothing. The fashion industry had gone through all of this 10 years before. Chevrolet had even introduced pink and gray in 1955 as color choices for their Bel Air model sedans.

A partition was built to separate the assembly area from the main hallway, so the assemblers were no longer distracted by giggles or strange shirts passing in front of them.

Dave Thomas

8/20/2026

Pat reminded me of this next story. It’s sad in the beginning but ends with a good laugh at my expense.

We had a cat that had been very sick. Late one evening, after the kids had been put to bed, the cat died. We didn’t want the kids to get up the next morning and find their kitty dead. We decided to put the cat in a sack and put it in the garage. I was to get up early and bury the cat in the backyard before going to work. The next morning, I got up and did the job and went on to work. That night, when I got home, Pat greeted me with “Why didn’t you bury the cat?” “I did,” I said. “No, you didn’t,” Pat said, “Come with me.” We went to the garage where she handed me a sack. I opened it, and there was our dead cat. “You buried a sack of trash,” she said as she laughed.

Dave Thomas

7/30/2026

Interlude

Manufacturing companies were having a slow period. As I recall, it was about 1970 into 1973.   I was Production Supervisor for a small firm at the time. Over a few weeks’ time, I had laid off most of our workforce. One day, the manager came and told me that since we had sent all the workers home, it was time for me to go also.

With a wife and three kids, I needed to work, but no one was hiring. The Ironworker’s Union let me work a couple of jobs on a permit basis, but they didn’t have much of the short-term stuff. searching was tough.  You could only make contact by U.S. Mail or by knocking on doors. These were the days before computers, faxes, or I-phones. I left my resume at 69 firms before I got hired Job.

I finally got hired by answering an ad in the newspaper for a car salesman. I wasn’t new to the auto industry. I had worked at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet dealership,  in the afternoons when I was a senior in high school and then for a couple of years after. I had worked the grease rack, wash rack, installed tires, installed seat covers, and had done used-car detailing and reconditioning. I knew a lot about cars but not about selling.

I started my sales career at a Chrysler/Plymouth dealership. For training purposes, I was paired with one of the top salesmen. We became friends and, after a few months, when he moved to a Chevrolet dealer, he paved the way for me to go with him. I was no fireball as a car salesman. When the company decided to open a truck, camper, and RV lot, I volunteered because that was something I could get excited about. This was when the country was going nuts about trucks, campers, and RV’s. I enjoyed talking about them, so I was doing better on the job. Chevrolet offered a correspondence course on trucks to the truck sales managers. My manager was one of the guys who thought he knew everything already, so he didn’t want to take the course. I told him that I would love to take it, and he could have the credit. I took the course under his name and did well. I got 100% on all of the tests, and he ended up looking good to Chevrolet. Of course, I was the only guy in the company that knew how to select the proper transmission and rear end ratios to match trucks to load and speed requirements.

This was the time when the mini-trucks were becoming popular.  The Datsun pickup (later known as Nissan) had been out for several years. Along came Ford with its Courier and Toyota. Last came Chevrolet with a truck known as the LUV. I was the first guy in the company to sell a LUV as a full-dressed camper unit. A man came in with his wife and son, and they all insisted that they needed on of the cute little trucks with the camper shell on it. The man was 6 ft 2 inches, and I couldn’t imagine him being happy with a rig that small, so I tried to sell him a ½ ton or a ¾ ton truck. They insisted on the LUV, so that’s what they got. It had a slide-in camper that extended above the truck’s cab. There were shock absorbers mounted to hold the camper down, mirrors on both sides, a boot replacing the rear window of the truck so you could climb back into the camper, heavy duty rear springs, and a chrome-plated dock bumper. It was a cute little thing, and it looked just like the big guys.

I enjoyed showing the trucks and campers. It was also interesting to demonstrate the latest features on the RV’s. I seemed to be getting better at the job as time went on. After a few weeks, I was summoned to the Sales Manager’s office and offered the position of Used Car Reconditioning Manager. Since this was a job I knew, I jumped at the chance. It would be a relief to be paid a salary rather than a commission.

The daily routine was to attend the daily sales meeting at 7:30 each morning and then go to my office at 8:00 am. When I got there, I would be greeted by 4 or 5 men representing some of the small auto shops around the city. They would be hoping to pick up some of the work that our own shops were too busy to take. These guys represented all of the auto disciplines including paint and body, glass, engines, tires, etc.

The first-time vendors and I stepped into my office. There was a case of scotch in the middle of my desk. I pointed to it and said, “This had better disappear while I am out of the office. Give me a good job at a fair price, and we will get along just fine. I don’t like kickbacks or under-the-table stuff.” That’s probably why I’m not rich today.

I was only on the new job for a couple of weeks when I got a phone call from Bud, the owner of the firm I worked for prior to getting laid off. He said that orders were coming in, and the future was looking better, so he hoped I would like to return to work. You betcha!!! I gave notice and, in a couple of weeks, I was back to the kind of work that I liked and was good at.

About a month later, at the grocery store, I ran into one of the salesmen from the truck lot. He said, “How come you never came in and picked up your plaque?” I said, “What plaque?” He said, “The one from Chevrolet that says ‘Truck Salesman of the Month.’”

That was a good way to close that chapter of my life.

Dave Thomas

July 16, 2026