As each week goes by, of late, it’s a bit of a milestone for me, getting clean of a couple of nasty drugs. Looking forward to that morning coffee, I took a rare selfie so you can put a face to the name.
My best wishes to everyone…..here’s hoping for good days ahead.
Irene’s lovely spirit had indeed changed Jack over the years. Spring was coming now, and he looked back at his winter as having been worthwhile. Since Irene’s death, he had helped many people on the streets, and some of them had even gotten off the streets. He had wanted to spend as little time as possible fretting in his lonely apartment, and had thought of many novel ways to somehow make their lives more bearable. He had a pretty good instinct about people, and knew which ones would make good use of some cash, and which would be better served with some groceries, a hot meal, and some extra blankets. Some he even brought home for a time.
On a particular morning, actually the official first day of spring, in his 70th year, his phone rang. Doctor’s office. Could he please come tomorrow to see Martin Smith? The secretary sounded a little off. Jack could tell, because he had known her for years.
So, this was how he got the news about his Cancer. Inoperable, but, with a treatment regimen, he had a chance, had a chance. Without, there were no guarantees.
Something was going through his mind now. Something Irene had always said. Don’t fret, Jack, don’t fret. It does no good, and will only eat away at you. Enjoy today.
Soberly, he packed a few things, made some sandwiches. Pulled his last will and testament out of its file and laid it on his work desk. Drafted an email to a select few, scheduled it to be delivered in a few days, and pressed Send. Then got in his car.
Jack was not going to the hospital. No Sir, not this guy. I’m not having anybody mooning over me for weeks while I lie drugged up with tubes and wires. Just like dear old Dad. No thank you.
He drove to the bank, withdrew a good sum in cash, and more in prepaid cards. This would be his last trip uptown. He’d meet some new people, and some old friends he had made, wish them well. Say some farewells. Visit the kids and say nothing. Just make sure they were okay.
Jack knew of a bridge under construction a little ways out of town. The road was closed, and there would be no workers there today. Neat and tidy.
Just at dusk, he pulled up to the barricades, got out, and managed to move one enough to squeeze his car through. All quiet on the western front. He had a little cry, for Irene, for this ending of things, for his nagging pain that had been with him for weeks. He stood by his car as the rain came streaming down. Tears in the rain, Hah! Sorry, Irene! I’m coming Thelma! I’m coming, Louise!
It was a good five hundred yards to the drop off. Plenty of room.
The last thing he thought of was an old song.
McCartney said it best.
But Oh, that magic feeling….nowhere to go.
Oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go.
Follow Jack in a previous story…..
Haha….today’s little spot of amusement.
I had stopped along a country road to take a photo of an interesting tree, standing by itself. I had to navigate a shallow ditch to get into proper position. As I was doing so, a Police Officer pulled up behind my car. My first thoughts were Oh oh. Am I trespassing? Perhaps she thinks I am peeing in public? Or maybe doing an illegal drop off?
Of course, what actually happened was that she opened her window, kind of gave me a look, and said “Are you alright?”. Yes, Officer, I was….ah….just taking a shot of this pretty tree. She looked from me to the tree, then back, gave kind of a funny smile, then waved goodbye.
Hopefully, we made each other’s day.
Two more weeks
says the eternal optimist.
Two more weeks
and Spring is here!
This hoary winter- blasted bush
may commence to cloak its brokenness.
Time-thwarted.
Challenged at every turn.
Of the Bonsai persuasion, of its own accord.
I have seen you, lonely friend,
budding with those precious green stems.
Are we of a kin?
Downtrodden for now,
we but await the blooming
of those summer smiles.
They make up for all.
This man has overseen our house, no matter where we have been, for the last 41 years. His serene smile and kindly eyes have been a calming influence to me during turbulent times. There have been moments when I have wanted to shake his hand and sit by the fire with him. The name of the painting is Mountain Man and his Fox, by James Bama.
slowly he walks in the snowy night. approaching the street lights, he’s in one of those glass globes, shaken. frozen furrows underfoot. crispy, crunchy. making statements in the deadened sound. there’s only the baying of solitary hounds, fading back into cotton in the ears. he’s glad of the long johns and the fur hood. much to think about in this wintry vacuum. a relationship that’s run its course. irreconcilable, he thinks. how much, or even whether, he has sinned in seeking or accepting new friendships. whether he cares about the fallout. what she will do if he leaves, how she will live. will these clunky intractable blocks of woe somehow fit together and form a path, a way out. she knows they are in trouble. she sees his half smiles and repartee with others, and is despairing of what to do, what to offer.
he is rounding the block, and sees home now. the wind is picking up and he’s shivering a little, but he thinks he will do it one more time. Maybe one more time.
If anyone has a Google Pixel 2 phone, I have a new case for it, as pictured. The supplier sent me the wrong one. I have the XL model.
I can put it in the mail to you. I don’t care about the shipping costs.
Good luck to you, Carol Anne!
hi guys
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carol anne
i tella you one a’ stoopit ting
you nevva wanna do
and dat’s forget the valentines
and her 60 birthday too
and dat weddin’ anniversary
was forty one or forty two?
i always gotta scratcha ma head
if it’s all the same to you
and when she gimme grocery list
and send me to the store
i need a damn interpreter
’cause i never can be sure
she calla me on the telephone
says ‘pick up thirty more
the sale she ends on Saturday
we only got forty four’
‘hey- who’s a’ dat girl you talkin’ to
you better watcha you mouth
or I’ll be packin’ all a’ my bags
and headin’ for the south’
but now she has forgiven me
I’m such a handsome guy
i tell her she will never ever
catcha me in a lie
i buy us tickets to a show
and take her to a dance
she fixes makeup and her hair
and puts me in a trance
but i tella you one more stoopit ting
it doesn’t make no sense
dat hundred dolla perfume
don’t mix with flatulence!
i won’t complain no more, no more
you see
only should i say what i have
that so many have not
a modest house
whose roof does not leak
and holds the heat in winter
a rusty car that still runs
and a license to drive it
someone with whom i have shared 40 Years
adult children who care
a body, still somewhat serviceable
enough faculties left to feel what is real,
discern what matters now,
scribble a few poems and stories
i hope my kids will read one day
and the strength given me
to overcome some of my weaknesses
someone said
“I used to cry because i had no shoes,
until i met a man who had no feet”
Aremyfeetofftheground 