He sloshes through the stained snow on his was to training.
It's almost a mile from the temporary group home.
He worked the late shift last night,
cleaning and waxing floors.
It's been almost fifteen years since he had a job.
Since he had to wake to an alarm that he set.
Since he had to buy and make his own meals.
The training has helped.
It's amazing how much he forgot, or never knew at all.
He didn't know his dad, and his mom wasn't much of a homemaker.
She did what she could for him and his three sisters,
but most of the time, she spent in the bar, trying to forget her problems.
He didn't blame her.
She made sure they all got to school.
It was great that the church down the street donated socks and sweat shirts and pants
once a year, because the clothes they did have were only washed when his mom
stumbled into some extra money.
He hated the way some of the other kids held their noses when he walked by,
but what could he do?
Occasionally his mom would throw the clothes away when she went to the food bank.
There was a hand me down store there where they got free clothes.
He liked the church clothes better.
Those clothes were new.
It had
felt like his birthday.
When he was fifteen, he skipped school, again.
This time, he went into the gas station around the corner with his two friends.
They were going to get a pop.
One of his friends had another idea though, but it was too late to stop him.
He pulled out his dad's gun and told the clerk to give him the money.
The clerk was scared, and fumbled at the register.
His friend was afraid too.
The gun went off and the clerk died.
Fifteen years later, he was walking down the street, on his way to learn how to pay his bills.
It wasn't even worth it.
Why go through all this trouble to learn to pay bills,
make a budget, learn to make a grilled cheese sandwich, without burning the kitchen down,
and how to be polite enough to the manager of the store he cleaned every night,
so he wouldn't get fired for telling him to shove this stupid job.
As he walked in the door to the building and over to the third room,
he saw a few familiar faces.
Their faces looked as noncommittal as his own.
They were all supposed to be learning skills,
and listening to the church fella with all the tattoos
tell them about the way life was supposed be.
He was a good guy, but he had never been in prison before.
What did he know.
He made his way to the registration table,
scrawled his name with his large, callused hand,
and grabbed a coke.
Something was different today though.
Instead of the tootsie pops that were always set out,
there was a big bowl of cookies.
Where did these come from?
They smelled so good.
They looked so good!
These were not store bought cookies.
They were round but not really round, kind of misshaped.
The preacher said he could have four,
and if there were any left, he could take some home.
He wondered who had spent their day making all these cookies.
There must be at least twelve dozen or more chocolate chip cookies here.
Everyone had the same reaction.
Each man got real quiet when he got to the table.
He inhaled deeply.
Oh, it smelled so good.
He inhaled again.
He couldn't smell the moldy room anymore.
He took a small bite, and it was so very good.
A memory of his grandmother came to his mind.
His mom's mom.
When he was only three or four, they lived with his grandparents until Grandpa died.
Grandma died right after that.
Mom said she couldn't live without him.
They had to move then, and things were never good again.
But he remembered Granny making
chocolate chip cookies every Saturday morning.
She let him help stir with the big wooden spoon in the bowl that seemed bigger than he was,
as she added cup after cup of flour to the butter and sugar.
Then he helped her form the perfect spoonful balls of cookie dough onto the pan.
He even remembered them sharing the last bit of dough together,
cause it wouldn't make a good sized cookie anyway.
He could remember the smell of the kitchen when the cookies were baking.
He thought he remembered the scent seeming to linger for days.
Grandma always made a few batches to take to church the next morning.
They would all gather after preaching for coffee and cookies.
Those were happy times.
He hadn't thought about granny or church is years.
It had always made him sad, so why think of those times.
But now, as he ate another cookie, more slowly this time,
it seemed like the best thing to think on.
He listened to the church fella today, as he ate the cookies.
He was talking about peace.
It made sense today.
He didn't feel rushed or angry right now.
The rest of the ex cons, were listening too.
No talking or heckling the preacher as was usual.
It felt safe here.
He hoped he could hang onto this feeling,
this peace he seemed to have
until the next time they met,
the day after tomorrow.
He would try.
What a nice thing for someone to do for them.
Home baked cookies.
He wondered if there would be cookies next time.
He decided that this would be a good day.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
It's the little things
It was a day to celebrate!
Well, nothing monumental,
but she was finally, after six weeks,
released from her dreaded crutches.
The sun was shining and it had stopped snowing,
but it was a bit too cold to venture into the state park
for some photo opportunities.
She decided on breakfast instead.
Three pancakes, two eggs, two strips of crispy bacon
and all the coffee she could drink!
She felt so free!
As she sipped her coffee, and opened up her kindle,
she continued to read the story she was struggling to get interested in.
In this chapter, a girl was being helped into and out of a car.
The memories of her early marriage days,
when her husband would offer the same kindnesses,
flooded back to her.
She had been married over twenty six years now,
and those days seemed to be so far away.
She let her mind wander.
Out the window, into the crisp chilly air,
the bright sun who had been hiding for what seemed months appeared
and there were sounds of the people near her talking.
A young girl was explaining that she learned to set the table in gym class.
This caught her attention and brought her back to the present.
The small girl, in gym class, had large forks, knives and spoons,
to arrange on a table during a relay race.
They had to be in the proper order or you got sent back to the beginning.
This seemed cute until the memory of her mother
teaching her this task every mealtime,
made her long for simpler times.
Everything seemed so difficult these days,
and no one really just talked anymore.
Everyone was on their IPhones, or Ipads or Kindles.
Hahaha.
She did like the convenience of her many books on one purse sized device.
She looked out the window once again, and saw an elderly couple
leaving the restaurant.
She was bundled up in a fur collared coat, and had on a a very bright,
orange, yellow and white silk scarf to keep her hair in place.
He was wearing an old well loved baseball cap and red plaid wool jacket.
She saw them heading to a mini van.
He scurried in front of her to open her door.
But it wasn't the passenger side van door he unlocked and opened.
It was the driver side door of the old blue pick up truck
with the carpenter's union bumper sticker.
She slowly scooted into the seat behind the wheel,
he closed the door after making sure she had her seatbelt in hand,
then meandered around the truck to take his own place in the passenger seat.
As she looked at him, she realized that he was very old, nearing ninety at least.
His wife was probably at least ten years his junior, and did all of the driving now.
How sweet that he still opened her door.
She could only imagine the embarrassment and struggle it took
to finally succumb to giving away his privilege.
She breathed in, took the last sip of coffee,
paid the bill and drove to her own home.
The dog could be walked a short distance today,
even though the doctor had said two weeks.
It was so very sunny and the puppy had gained three pounds, as she had,
healing and lounging since the accident.
Three or four houses down and back would not hurt either of them.
Well, nothing monumental,
but she was finally, after six weeks,
released from her dreaded crutches.
The sun was shining and it had stopped snowing,
but it was a bit too cold to venture into the state park
for some photo opportunities.
She decided on breakfast instead.
Three pancakes, two eggs, two strips of crispy bacon
and all the coffee she could drink!
She felt so free!
As she sipped her coffee, and opened up her kindle,
she continued to read the story she was struggling to get interested in.
In this chapter, a girl was being helped into and out of a car.
The memories of her early marriage days,
when her husband would offer the same kindnesses,
flooded back to her.
She had been married over twenty six years now,
and those days seemed to be so far away.
She let her mind wander.
Out the window, into the crisp chilly air,
the bright sun who had been hiding for what seemed months appeared
and there were sounds of the people near her talking.
A young girl was explaining that she learned to set the table in gym class.
This caught her attention and brought her back to the present.
The small girl, in gym class, had large forks, knives and spoons,
to arrange on a table during a relay race.
They had to be in the proper order or you got sent back to the beginning.
This seemed cute until the memory of her mother
teaching her this task every mealtime,
made her long for simpler times.
Everything seemed so difficult these days,
and no one really just talked anymore.
Everyone was on their IPhones, or Ipads or Kindles.
Hahaha.
She did like the convenience of her many books on one purse sized device.
She looked out the window once again, and saw an elderly couple
leaving the restaurant.
She was bundled up in a fur collared coat, and had on a a very bright,
orange, yellow and white silk scarf to keep her hair in place.
He was wearing an old well loved baseball cap and red plaid wool jacket.
She saw them heading to a mini van.
He scurried in front of her to open her door.
But it wasn't the passenger side van door he unlocked and opened.
It was the driver side door of the old blue pick up truck
with the carpenter's union bumper sticker.
She slowly scooted into the seat behind the wheel,
he closed the door after making sure she had her seatbelt in hand,
then meandered around the truck to take his own place in the passenger seat.
As she looked at him, she realized that he was very old, nearing ninety at least.
His wife was probably at least ten years his junior, and did all of the driving now.
How sweet that he still opened her door.
She could only imagine the embarrassment and struggle it took
to finally succumb to giving away his privilege.
She breathed in, took the last sip of coffee,
paid the bill and drove to her own home.
The dog could be walked a short distance today,
even though the doctor had said two weeks.
It was so very sunny and the puppy had gained three pounds, as she had,
healing and lounging since the accident.
Three or four houses down and back would not hurt either of them.
Monday, January 21, 2013
What makes old, Old?
old
/ōld/
Adjective
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Synonyms
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Friday, January 18, 2013
Roxy Iron Heart
my daughter bought a dog last week.
a two year old rescue besenji and boxer or pit bull mix.
I think her theme song should be Little Bitty Pretty One by Bobby Ray.
Just seems to fit how I imagine she prances.
My head if swirling with stories of this little girl.
And even as a companion for Karl, a fiction piece my daughter wrote,
that I am in love with.
I wish I could kick her into gear to write about this character that I am so enamored with!
Maybe if I give her some prompts:
Roxy apparently is a fence climber.....10 feet chain fence at the vet's to get to her neighbor lab.
I imagine the lab being afraid and Roxy leaping clear over, landing with a puff of dust,
to comfort the new arrival.
You see, Roxy was scheduled to be put down before the local shelter took her in in June.
My daughter adopted her in January.
Roxy was on the jogging program.
Good thing my daughter is a runner,
although Roxy seems a bit annoyed when V must take walk breaks.
My youngest believe that Roxy was in a prison gang, thus how she escaped so many close calls.
I imagine a Hogan's Heroes adventure, with fluffy, timid Charlie as
the sidekick the lookout, the one who pretends to be injured and cries out in pain
to get the attention of the evil ice people.
His only defence is chewing on his leash he carries around his neck.
I believe Roxy needs a turquoise collar (pink is too feminine for Roxy Lion Heart)
with a lam'e cape attached at the back.
Roxy also has a tattoo!
Oh the vet says it was given to her after she was spade.
Silly vet.
It is the mark of the string bearers!
( You should definitely get that as your next tattoo V!)
I imagined Karl having adventures in bumper cars at a carnival,
Trekking across the lands in search of.......
meeting all kinds of interesting quirky folk.
It makes me happy now that he has companions.
You see, Karl is simple and kind.
He is easily distracted and fooled and led astray.
Now with Roxy Lion Heart and Charlie for friends...
maybe these companions are found along the trek...
they work together.
Yeah.... I am geared more for children's books.
I'm sure, especially with the original Karl stories, that an adult fiction could be written as well.
Kind of like Stephen King's Dark Tower series
or Mrs. Murphy Mysteries by Rita Mea Brown ...
I can imagine adult and children's books written with the same themes
only for different readers.
Can't you see parents and children reading the same book,
and discussing common threads?!
But not needing the other to enjoy your age's book.
So, I will put writing prompts down occasionally, and see where V takes them.
a two year old rescue besenji and boxer or pit bull mix.
I think her theme song should be Little Bitty Pretty One by Bobby Ray.
Just seems to fit how I imagine she prances.
My head if swirling with stories of this little girl.
And even as a companion for Karl, a fiction piece my daughter wrote,
that I am in love with.
I wish I could kick her into gear to write about this character that I am so enamored with!
Maybe if I give her some prompts:
Roxy apparently is a fence climber.....10 feet chain fence at the vet's to get to her neighbor lab.
I imagine the lab being afraid and Roxy leaping clear over, landing with a puff of dust,
to comfort the new arrival.
You see, Roxy was scheduled to be put down before the local shelter took her in in June.
My daughter adopted her in January.
Roxy was on the jogging program.
Good thing my daughter is a runner,
although Roxy seems a bit annoyed when V must take walk breaks.
My youngest believe that Roxy was in a prison gang, thus how she escaped so many close calls.
I imagine a Hogan's Heroes adventure, with fluffy, timid Charlie as
the sidekick the lookout, the one who pretends to be injured and cries out in pain
to get the attention of the evil ice people.
His only defence is chewing on his leash he carries around his neck.
I believe Roxy needs a turquoise collar (pink is too feminine for Roxy Lion Heart)
with a lam'e cape attached at the back.
Roxy also has a tattoo!
Oh the vet says it was given to her after she was spade.
Silly vet.
It is the mark of the string bearers!
( You should definitely get that as your next tattoo V!)
I imagined Karl having adventures in bumper cars at a carnival,
Trekking across the lands in search of.......
meeting all kinds of interesting quirky folk.
It makes me happy now that he has companions.
You see, Karl is simple and kind.
He is easily distracted and fooled and led astray.
Now with Roxy Lion Heart and Charlie for friends...
maybe these companions are found along the trek...
they work together.
Yeah.... I am geared more for children's books.
I'm sure, especially with the original Karl stories, that an adult fiction could be written as well.
Kind of like Stephen King's Dark Tower series
or Mrs. Murphy Mysteries by Rita Mea Brown ...
I can imagine adult and children's books written with the same themes
only for different readers.
Can't you see parents and children reading the same book,
and discussing common threads?!
But not needing the other to enjoy your age's book.
So, I will put writing prompts down occasionally, and see where V takes them.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Brokenness
This sucks.
For nearly thirty of my almost fifty years, I have been independent, self reliant, the strong one who many turn to for help, a caretaker of needs and wants.
Last week, I broke my foot. Oh, not just any break, but an "Oh Shit" from the doctor, break.
And because I don't feel pain the way most do, I didn't even realize it.
One day in a walking boot and the next day in surgery to put a plate in my foot,
and I am reduced to an invalid.
Yes, I am feeling a bit sorry for myself, but also, as I sit here and think,
I have a greater respect for others who are not as healthy as I am.
I cannot fix my own meals, shampoo my own hair, even bathe myself without help.
My dear friend came yesterday for a visit and cleaned my bathrooms and kitchen.
I sat in the family room in my chair and listened to the scum buster working.
I felt blessed and self conscious at the same time.
It's one thing to have someone vacuum for you, but bathrooms are very personal places.
My ministry team at church has brought so much food to my house that we are all eating very well!
I have had everyone tell me that if there is anything thing at all that I need, to just pick up the phone.
I think of my grandmother who lives in assisted living.
All of her personal preferences are gone. She has no privacy or choice or much dignity left.
Along with her health, her mind is slipping away.
A nurse found her the other evening walking the halls with nothing on but a depends on her head.
I can only reason that she thought it was a shower cap or her night cap, and she was getting ready for bed. Nothing looked familiar, so she walked around trying to find the home she remembered so many years ago.
My mother too, has health problems. Her heart is barely functioning, but she does the best she can every day. She has fallen more times than I can remember, all of my life. She has had to let others care for all of her needs many times in her life. My father is amazing and patient.
My youngest daughter is my caretaker for a bit.
She is amazing.
Today she helped me shower. She adjusted the showerhead, put the shower chair into the tub,
wrapped my right foot in a bag and helped me into the bathroom.
She held my hand as I climbed into the tub and sat down.
She wrapped my foot in a towel, put all shampoo, soap and loofa within reach and gave me privacy when I was settled.
It felt wonderful and being that I am tall, I was able to adjust the spray!
I was in tears, so grateful my daughter is so loving!
She helped me out of the tub wrapped in a towel, and to my bedroom.
She got my clothes out and powder and deodorant within reach.
Then she dried and styled my hair for me.
I feel human again!
What this made me realize, being a caretaker myself, is how considerate she is.
Being a caretaker is a practical responsibility. Not many feelings or thoughts other than getting the job done as best and quickly as you can.
Now I understand that showing respect to the patient is oh so very important.
It's not just you doing what you can, but they are feeling helpless, emotional, embarrassed and hurting. It is a horrible feeling.
So, sitting here in my chair, with my knitting, books, computer and tv remote within reach,
feeling badly that my grandmother is in the hospital preparing to go into a nursing home,
and I cannot even comfort her, I am grateful for all of the caring people around me and her.
For nearly thirty of my almost fifty years, I have been independent, self reliant, the strong one who many turn to for help, a caretaker of needs and wants.
Last week, I broke my foot. Oh, not just any break, but an "Oh Shit" from the doctor, break.
And because I don't feel pain the way most do, I didn't even realize it.
One day in a walking boot and the next day in surgery to put a plate in my foot,
and I am reduced to an invalid.
Yes, I am feeling a bit sorry for myself, but also, as I sit here and think,
I have a greater respect for others who are not as healthy as I am.
I cannot fix my own meals, shampoo my own hair, even bathe myself without help.
My dear friend came yesterday for a visit and cleaned my bathrooms and kitchen.
I sat in the family room in my chair and listened to the scum buster working.
I felt blessed and self conscious at the same time.
It's one thing to have someone vacuum for you, but bathrooms are very personal places.
My ministry team at church has brought so much food to my house that we are all eating very well!
I have had everyone tell me that if there is anything thing at all that I need, to just pick up the phone.
I think of my grandmother who lives in assisted living.
All of her personal preferences are gone. She has no privacy or choice or much dignity left.
Along with her health, her mind is slipping away.
A nurse found her the other evening walking the halls with nothing on but a depends on her head.
I can only reason that she thought it was a shower cap or her night cap, and she was getting ready for bed. Nothing looked familiar, so she walked around trying to find the home she remembered so many years ago.
My mother too, has health problems. Her heart is barely functioning, but she does the best she can every day. She has fallen more times than I can remember, all of my life. She has had to let others care for all of her needs many times in her life. My father is amazing and patient.
My youngest daughter is my caretaker for a bit.
She is amazing.
Today she helped me shower. She adjusted the showerhead, put the shower chair into the tub,
wrapped my right foot in a bag and helped me into the bathroom.
She held my hand as I climbed into the tub and sat down.
She wrapped my foot in a towel, put all shampoo, soap and loofa within reach and gave me privacy when I was settled.
It felt wonderful and being that I am tall, I was able to adjust the spray!
I was in tears, so grateful my daughter is so loving!
She helped me out of the tub wrapped in a towel, and to my bedroom.
She got my clothes out and powder and deodorant within reach.
Then she dried and styled my hair for me.
I feel human again!
What this made me realize, being a caretaker myself, is how considerate she is.
Being a caretaker is a practical responsibility. Not many feelings or thoughts other than getting the job done as best and quickly as you can.
Now I understand that showing respect to the patient is oh so very important.
It's not just you doing what you can, but they are feeling helpless, emotional, embarrassed and hurting. It is a horrible feeling.
So, sitting here in my chair, with my knitting, books, computer and tv remote within reach,
feeling badly that my grandmother is in the hospital preparing to go into a nursing home,
and I cannot even comfort her, I am grateful for all of the caring people around me and her.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Wind
The wind is blowing.
The chimes,
set carefully where they will be loved by the wind,
are singing their personal, individual songs.
A branch has fallen from one of the old oaks in the yard.
The smell of fallen leaves permeates the heavy air.
There is nothing like the smell of fall but this smell.
As I walk around the corner,
toward the one tree in the neighborhood,
that dresses in her finest autumn colors before any other tree,
I breathe in completely and soak up the scent.
It is strongest here.
I feel light, and thankful.
My memories of holidays, youth, and happiness encompass me
as the flurry of falling burgundy, gold and amber
overwhelm my senses.
Thick fuzzy cardigans,
warm knitted wool socks,
electric blankets turned to the highest setting,
until I can no longer stand the heat,
warm spiced apple cider or chai,
brisk walks with the puppy in his overly warm for a dog sweater.
All these thoughts have taken over my senses because of the sound
of a robust wind shaking the evening calm and crickets.
The chimes,
set carefully where they will be loved by the wind,
are singing their personal, individual songs.
A branch has fallen from one of the old oaks in the yard.
The smell of fallen leaves permeates the heavy air.
There is nothing like the smell of fall but this smell.
As I walk around the corner,
toward the one tree in the neighborhood,
that dresses in her finest autumn colors before any other tree,
I breathe in completely and soak up the scent.
It is strongest here.
I feel light, and thankful.
My memories of holidays, youth, and happiness encompass me
as the flurry of falling burgundy, gold and amber
overwhelm my senses.
Thick fuzzy cardigans,
warm knitted wool socks,
electric blankets turned to the highest setting,
until I can no longer stand the heat,
warm spiced apple cider or chai,
brisk walks with the puppy in his overly warm for a dog sweater.
All these thoughts have taken over my senses because of the sound
of a robust wind shaking the evening calm and crickets.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Old man.
This short story is based on a moment in time.
This particular moment was early one morning in Canada,
at a Tom Collins coffee shop
at the edge of a resort area.
Terry was sleeping as he had driven most of the night.
I of course had slept most of the night.
As I did a bible study, drank some delicious coffee and ate a pastry,
I noticed some movement outside of the window.
The following is what I saw and thought about and became....a story around me.
It's a chilly morning, but I've had my coffee.
Strong and hot and black.
And because I've been working steadily
I've taken off my jacket.
Now I just have on my jeans, Tshirt, orange vest, work gloves and visor.
Summer is just about to begin,
which means the work should be getting more steady.
I'm ready for steady.
Today me and the kid are working on building up the curb around the new road
going off to the resort.
The landscaper wants to add some flowers and bushes, so I am filling in the area,
picking out the larger stones and smoothing it out a bit.
I don't know where the kid is.
He never seems to want to be part of the work these days.
Some girl problems I'm sure.
I'm just not interested at all in all that talk of girls, boozing and car racing.
I'm going on my 72nd birthday in two months.
It has been a good life for the most part.
I'm glad I can still come out here everyday and do some physical work.
Gets my mind off of things at home.
The wife has been sick with cancer for the past two years.
All the doctor visits, treatments and healing at home have been hard on both of us.
I've had to take on more of the cooking and cleaning than I have ever done.
But I don't mind. That also settles my mind a bit.
I can turn down the hearing aids and just think my thoughts.
Momma has gotten a bit more into complaining since she has been sick.
I just can't seem to do much that meets with her approval,
but I do what I can and just try to keep my head down and outta her way.
Holy Shit!
That kid nearly gave me a heart attack!
Dumb kid!
Guess he didn't see me working here.
His mind was distracted like mine just was.
He has gotten on the small back hoe and is moving some dirt around from the pile.
But Crap~! He almost ran me over.
I have to shovel some of that dirt around a bit more,
now that he has added the huge pile to where I was working.
The contractor is particular, and I have to concentrate on getting this dirt
to the curb and not over into the street.
Now that I'm listening for him, I hear the kid coming with another load.
Shoot!
Why doesn't he pay attention to what he's doing or where I am?
He's just making more of a mess and I'm having to move more to where it properly goes.
Again, he just tears up here and dumps the pile where it doesn't go.
I'll stand in front near where I want him to drop the dirt this time.
Maybe he doesn't know.
Here he comes from the pile.
Right at me.
Good.
Now maybe I'll get some work.....
Whoa buddy!
You almost ran me over!
If I hadn't have moved you would have!
What are you thinking?
Oh, what are you doing now?
What am I supposed to do, if you use the back hoe to smooth the dirt toward the curb?
Clean up the mess in the street that you made?
Pops, huh?
I'm too slow, that it?
Well fine, you can do it all yourself.
I need a break anyway.
I'll just be over here when you are ready to do it right.
Three more loads and it's done.
It does look ok around the edges.
Well, the kid can gather all the shovels and tools then,
I'm ready to pack it in and call it a day.
Wonder how much longer they'll keep me around?
Picking out rocks and sweeping the streets I guess,
now that the backhoe seems to do the job of three of me.
Not that I wouldn't have done a prettier job at it.
The landscaper is gonna be pissed when he has to ready the soil.
It would have been perfect if I had been allowed to finish.
Things are faster, not as personal, and not as good as far as I can see.
Getting too old I guess.
I have had a hitch in my back, first thing for a few mornings.
Sometimes it's a struggle to get these ol' legs going right away.
But I eventually roll around.
Cracking and sputtering like I do.
Better get on home.
The wife'll be surprised I'm home so early.
Better stop and get some bird seed, and BB's for the gun.
Those damn black birds have been devouring everything.
It's nice to stroll around the Walmart with no time limit.
Looking at the camping gear, tools and such.
I don't need anything for the shop though, and camping is now for the grandbabies.
That reminds me.
Kimmy and her girls are going camping this weekend.
I better pick up some propane for them.
It's gonna be a bit nippy and the lantern will give off a bit of heat for them.
Wish I could go, but I'll settle for fishing one day with them at the lake.
That little Susan sure enjoys watching the minnows around the pier.
She's just as happy to see the bluegill nip on her line in the shallows by the shore
as she is catching a big fish from the boat.
How I love that little one!
Becky however is only interested in getting a tan and the boys.
That one is going to be a heartbreaker for sure.
She already has mine.
Momma's asleep in her chair.
Musta been a rough morning for her.
I know she didn't sleep much last night.
I'll be real quiet and try to not wake her.
"Oh, hi Honey.
No, we finished up early today.
How you feeling?
Yea, you need your rest.
I'm gonna go outside and shoot some of those black birds away.
Of course I can shoot them!
My aim has never been better!
You rest now.
I'll make lunch after a while."
I can still hear her bitching at me as I go out the back door.
I'll show her.
Who does she think she is?
Is she never happy anymore?
I can shoot some damn birds if I want to.
For that matter I think I'll stay out here a bit after lunch.
Glad I re-wove that lawn chair I got from the dump.
It sure took me a time to find the mesh.
No one fixes anything any more, they just throw it out and buy new.
Ya, it may not look perfect, but it does the job for me sitting out here.
She doesn't sit out here anymore anyway,
so what difference does it make if some of the web sags a bit here and there?
It is just as comfortable as a new one.
Two black birds already out feasting on the suet.
Just breath and aim.
Ha!
Don't tell me I can't hit a bird anymore!
I still got it woman!
Did you see that shot?
First one and he's on the ground.
I'll have to shoot him one more time in the head just to make sure.
Oh.
Poor little thing.
That second shot put it out of it's misery.
Why did I think I had to kill them to get rid of them?
I didn't think it would be that hard seeing the pathetic little thing.
Funny pit my stomach after that.
I'll put the gun up.
What good am I any more?
Can't work fast enough,
too soft to kill birds,
can't even make a satisfactory grilled cheese sandwich.
Guess I'll read the paper and maybe take a nap.
MMMMM.
Little arms squeezing my neck.
The girls are here.
"Help you string your fishing pole, huh?
Well, I guess I have time to do that for ya.
Yes, I'll be coming out early Saturday morning with my tackle box.
You want me to bring you some coffee outta my thermos do ya?
OK. I'll stop and get some cream and sugar for yours.
Yes. I plan on staying all day.
We are going to catch a mess of fish for dinner and I'll show you how to skin em.
We'll have a big ol fish fry!
Run over and give Grandma a squeeze
then we can go out to the garage and fix up the poles."
Maybe I do have some value after all.
Susan still thinks I can do anything.
I'll try my hardest not to let that little thing know any different.
This particular moment was early one morning in Canada,
at a Tom Collins coffee shop
at the edge of a resort area.
Terry was sleeping as he had driven most of the night.
I of course had slept most of the night.
As I did a bible study, drank some delicious coffee and ate a pastry,
I noticed some movement outside of the window.
The following is what I saw and thought about and became....a story around me.
It's a chilly morning, but I've had my coffee.
Strong and hot and black.
And because I've been working steadily
I've taken off my jacket.
Now I just have on my jeans, Tshirt, orange vest, work gloves and visor.
Summer is just about to begin,
which means the work should be getting more steady.
I'm ready for steady.
Today me and the kid are working on building up the curb around the new road
going off to the resort.
The landscaper wants to add some flowers and bushes, so I am filling in the area,
picking out the larger stones and smoothing it out a bit.
I don't know where the kid is.
He never seems to want to be part of the work these days.
Some girl problems I'm sure.
I'm just not interested at all in all that talk of girls, boozing and car racing.
I'm going on my 72nd birthday in two months.
It has been a good life for the most part.
I'm glad I can still come out here everyday and do some physical work.
Gets my mind off of things at home.
The wife has been sick with cancer for the past two years.
All the doctor visits, treatments and healing at home have been hard on both of us.
I've had to take on more of the cooking and cleaning than I have ever done.
But I don't mind. That also settles my mind a bit.
I can turn down the hearing aids and just think my thoughts.
Momma has gotten a bit more into complaining since she has been sick.
I just can't seem to do much that meets with her approval,
but I do what I can and just try to keep my head down and outta her way.
Holy Shit!
That kid nearly gave me a heart attack!
Dumb kid!
Guess he didn't see me working here.
His mind was distracted like mine just was.
He has gotten on the small back hoe and is moving some dirt around from the pile.
But Crap~! He almost ran me over.
I have to shovel some of that dirt around a bit more,
now that he has added the huge pile to where I was working.
The contractor is particular, and I have to concentrate on getting this dirt
to the curb and not over into the street.
Now that I'm listening for him, I hear the kid coming with another load.
Shoot!
Why doesn't he pay attention to what he's doing or where I am?
He's just making more of a mess and I'm having to move more to where it properly goes.
Again, he just tears up here and dumps the pile where it doesn't go.
I'll stand in front near where I want him to drop the dirt this time.
Maybe he doesn't know.
Here he comes from the pile.
Right at me.
Good.
Now maybe I'll get some work.....
Whoa buddy!
You almost ran me over!
If I hadn't have moved you would have!
What are you thinking?
Oh, what are you doing now?
What am I supposed to do, if you use the back hoe to smooth the dirt toward the curb?
Clean up the mess in the street that you made?
Pops, huh?
I'm too slow, that it?
Well fine, you can do it all yourself.
I need a break anyway.
I'll just be over here when you are ready to do it right.
Three more loads and it's done.
It does look ok around the edges.
Well, the kid can gather all the shovels and tools then,
I'm ready to pack it in and call it a day.
Wonder how much longer they'll keep me around?
Picking out rocks and sweeping the streets I guess,
now that the backhoe seems to do the job of three of me.
Not that I wouldn't have done a prettier job at it.
The landscaper is gonna be pissed when he has to ready the soil.
It would have been perfect if I had been allowed to finish.
Things are faster, not as personal, and not as good as far as I can see.
Getting too old I guess.
I have had a hitch in my back, first thing for a few mornings.
Sometimes it's a struggle to get these ol' legs going right away.
But I eventually roll around.
Cracking and sputtering like I do.
Better get on home.
The wife'll be surprised I'm home so early.
Better stop and get some bird seed, and BB's for the gun.
Those damn black birds have been devouring everything.
It's nice to stroll around the Walmart with no time limit.
Looking at the camping gear, tools and such.
I don't need anything for the shop though, and camping is now for the grandbabies.
That reminds me.
Kimmy and her girls are going camping this weekend.
I better pick up some propane for them.
It's gonna be a bit nippy and the lantern will give off a bit of heat for them.
Wish I could go, but I'll settle for fishing one day with them at the lake.
That little Susan sure enjoys watching the minnows around the pier.
She's just as happy to see the bluegill nip on her line in the shallows by the shore
as she is catching a big fish from the boat.
How I love that little one!
Becky however is only interested in getting a tan and the boys.
That one is going to be a heartbreaker for sure.
She already has mine.
Momma's asleep in her chair.
Musta been a rough morning for her.
I know she didn't sleep much last night.
I'll be real quiet and try to not wake her.
"Oh, hi Honey.
No, we finished up early today.
How you feeling?
Yea, you need your rest.
I'm gonna go outside and shoot some of those black birds away.
Of course I can shoot them!
My aim has never been better!
You rest now.
I'll make lunch after a while."
I can still hear her bitching at me as I go out the back door.
I'll show her.
Who does she think she is?
Is she never happy anymore?
I can shoot some damn birds if I want to.
For that matter I think I'll stay out here a bit after lunch.
Glad I re-wove that lawn chair I got from the dump.
It sure took me a time to find the mesh.
No one fixes anything any more, they just throw it out and buy new.
Ya, it may not look perfect, but it does the job for me sitting out here.
She doesn't sit out here anymore anyway,
so what difference does it make if some of the web sags a bit here and there?
It is just as comfortable as a new one.
Two black birds already out feasting on the suet.
Just breath and aim.
Ha!
Don't tell me I can't hit a bird anymore!
I still got it woman!
Did you see that shot?
First one and he's on the ground.
I'll have to shoot him one more time in the head just to make sure.
Oh.
Poor little thing.
That second shot put it out of it's misery.
Why did I think I had to kill them to get rid of them?
I didn't think it would be that hard seeing the pathetic little thing.
Funny pit my stomach after that.
I'll put the gun up.
What good am I any more?
Can't work fast enough,
too soft to kill birds,
can't even make a satisfactory grilled cheese sandwich.
Guess I'll read the paper and maybe take a nap.
MMMMM.
Little arms squeezing my neck.
The girls are here.
"Help you string your fishing pole, huh?
Well, I guess I have time to do that for ya.
Yes, I'll be coming out early Saturday morning with my tackle box.
You want me to bring you some coffee outta my thermos do ya?
OK. I'll stop and get some cream and sugar for yours.
Yes. I plan on staying all day.
We are going to catch a mess of fish for dinner and I'll show you how to skin em.
We'll have a big ol fish fry!
Run over and give Grandma a squeeze
then we can go out to the garage and fix up the poles."
Maybe I do have some value after all.
Susan still thinks I can do anything.
I'll try my hardest not to let that little thing know any different.
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