Ken Heron

Ken Heron's "Thursday Night Live" youtube drone show. Where else can you find drone news, razzmataz, pigeon jerkey, one second songs, Surfin' Bird and even Trains? Every Thursday Night at 7:00 p.m. central time (1 a.m. Zulu)?


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What devices are known to work well with DJI GO4 or the Fly app? Here is a list updated daily of Apple and Android devices and how they work with DJI products.

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Tentoes? Why Tentoes?

Well, I have the usual number of toes, nothing odd about that.

Mom and Dad were completely conventional people, never doing anything unusual or out of the ordinary, except for one thing. They had picked two names, Steven for a boy, and Carol for a girl, and thought they had the bases covered. They did not anticipate me. They had no idea there were two of us. One only lived a few minutes. I'll let you guess which. Mom decided to wait to name me until they could talk about it. They decided to give the boy that died the name they had chosen, and remember him in my name. Sticking to the first century Jewish theme of the name "Steven" they thought to name me "Thomas Steven," which would be "Twin Steven." In ancient Jewish culture, when twins were born, the first was given a name and the second would be called "Thomas," or even "The Thomas." They would have their Steve and my formal name would be T. Steven.

By the next day, Mom had second thoughts about this. "No. This is not Steve. Steve is the boy who died." But she was not sure if I was "Tom."

Later that day, the nurse came in with some papers and asked, "So, what are we going to call this little boy?" Mom and Dad were playing with me, counting fingers and toes, seeing how I held a finger placed in my hand. Enjoying me like you do with a new baby, and Mom was looking at my tiny feet. She thought, "this is my last chance. If I don't think of something else, it's Thomas." Then she said, "Tentoes Steven."

The nurse, thinking this was a little unconventional, looked to Dad. This was the first he'd heard the name, but he knodded. So that's what she wrote down.

So there were 4 forms of my name. Tentoes, Tom, Tommy and Thomas. I wondered why there was only one form of my younger sister's name, "Carol." I liked my fun name, and thought it was funny when people were surprised to find it was not a nicname. I could read and write all 4 forms of my name, and Carol's name. I often wrote "Tom" because "Tentoes" was a lot of writing for a toddler. Actually, until I figured out handedness, I often wrote MOT.

So at age 7, came second grade. Now we were at the big kid's end of the building and the coat hooks were in an alcove in the hallway instead of in the classroom like they had been. As I came into the classroom excited to start second grade, the teacher stopped me and sternly demanded, "What do you mean by coming in here that way?"

I really did not know what he meant. Is not the doorway the usual way to come into the class room? This is the way the other children were coming in. "You know what I mean!" he demanded. I did not, and now I could not speak. He was clearly upset about something. I did a quick outfit check. My zipper is up, my shirt is not buttoned crooked. I don't have a strap (brace) twisted, do I?

As I was checking my straps, a little girl standing there piped up, "Tentoes NEVER wears his shoes."

Shoes? I had never worn my shoes in school before. I always left them with my jacket with the sockies tucked inside. Nobody ever said anything before. Perhaps he'll understand now. So I turned to him and smiled, revealing the broken chips and fragments of baby teeth I had after a childhood face meets sidewalk incident, confirming his low opinion of me. He most certainly did not understand. Particularly now that he knew which child had the audacity to be named "Tentoes."

So as I was running out to get my shoes and socks back on, I thought, "You don't have to get mad. Just say,'Tentoes, wear your shoes please.'" I did not realize that he disliked me before he knew of my footware preference on account of my name.

The telephone is faster than the school bus and when I got home, Mom already had been made painfully aware of my multiple infractions of the day.

"Didn't you notice the other children wearing their shoes?" Mom asked.

"Sure," I replied. "Nothing wrong with that. They can wear their shoes if they like."

The telephone beat me home almost every day with reports of what an evil heathen I was. I did not belong in his school. I had no place in his class. He had no time for trash like me. I fell dreadfully behind and it looked like I was going to flunk second grade.

Then we moved. In the new school, I was "Tom" not "Tentoes" and the new teacher was a sweet lady who called me "Tommy" and helped me with some of the things I had missed.

Third grade was in another new school, and the teacher was a caring man who set out to help me with the school problems I had. Fourth grade was in yet another new school.

I did not use the name "Tentoes" for 50 years till I met a man who was a counselor and recognized my mental condition. I was only then beginning to understand that I had a mental condition. He was asking about the character I portraid at my job, and I was aware that "Thomas at Burger King" was an act I put on that the customers liked. I thought my funny name might be a cute aspect of this character, and mentioned it from time to time, like when some small child asked, "What's your name?'"

Tentoes exhibits autistic traits, but you can't really say he suffers from them. For the most part, he enjoys them.

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