Archive for the ‘Everyday Life’ Category

In a Texas clinic hallway, an OBGYN doctor was heard saying, ” I finally discovered her problem! She has a Texan AND a Supreme Court Justice up her Uterus!!”.

Texas, again you are not making any sense. Telling people that asking you to wear a mask is stepping on your liberty but a total stranger, in another state, with no contact at all with a Texas woman, can bounty hunt her Texas vagina for $10,000? What kind of lawmakers do you have down there? Just askin’ ? They may be more backward than I ever thought. I’m from another state and normally I would not comment about what they do down there, but I guess they have now opened the door.

I love ya, but man!

E.

 

 

I would describe it as gnarly. It has been split by ice, dried by drought and trimmed cruelly by storm winds. It sheds not only leaves in the summer and fall but branches and long dry sticks during the winter. Squarely sawed stubs of once strong branches protrude from its trunk. The wounds were undeserved and now are only slightly healed with a green rounded rim. The constant and predominate southern winds have trained our willow’s branches to spread reaching northward, permanently posed in a windswept profile even on the few calm days of summer. But despite its rough life, its trunk grows thicker and it gains a few feet of height each year.

The globe willow, even growing untended in the wild, is a most beautiful tree. As its name implies, its branches will naturally form a very rounded shape as if from a Grant Wood painting. That is what drew my first attention. It has rough thick bark and in its mature form casts a very thick cool shadow. But the species is known for its poor disease and insect resistance, which I found out only after choosing to plant it. My tree chose to ignore the rounded branches shape genetic characteristics, instead grows weak branches and retained its poor health reputation. It has survived many doses of insecticides and antibacterial sprays. Until now, I was unaware that a tree could unwind its own DNA helix.

Today I read of the Oriental bonsai tree. As I write this I realize that I may now better understand my 18 year old globe willow. The bonsai trees are grown in a small pot or tray. Through careful pruning and training, the tree is caused to flourish in a stunted growth state. Wire is used to bind the branches and trunks to force it to grow in whatever way the “gardener” prefers. They are an amazing and beautiful addition to a home. Imagine having a whispering pine tree growing in your home that is smaller than the average table lamp. But there is something more intangible and harder to explain about these miniature trees. Growing a bonsai requires a meditative state and the cutting and pruning should be approached with a Zen-like state of mind. It is all about harmony, peace and balance. Only with harmony between nature, man and soul will the tree flourish.

But I’ve read that most of the bonsai tree inter-meaning and Zen has been lost to the general public in the last few years. Westerners look at this tree as only decoration and added atmosphere to their homes. The trees are losing popularity because the Zen is lost. Maybe this too for my globe willow.

Oh it started off in Zen, I planted my little globe willow exactly on my birthday just 18 years ago. How much closer to harmony between nature, man and soul can you get. With the help of two steel posts, wire and rubber hose to cushion the bark, I braced my new tiny 2 inch in diameter tree so it would remain straight for its first couple of formative years until it was strong enough to stand against the wind on its own. But I didn’t think of meditating about it either before or after. Just a few years later when aphids invaded, as I sprayed the insecticidal soap, gently washing each branch and leaf, no prayers, meditation or aaahummmms were uttered. The tree grew at the mercy of the winds, being pruned violently during each storm. Not the required Zen-like state of mind to promote flourished growth, but admittedly done with a closeness to nature. The wire of the wind has formed it branches to lean and flow northward instead of the familiar globe shape of its brothers. No thought was given this, the gradual change was hardly noticed.

With all of this, the tree lives on, though gnarly, leaning, battle scarred and robbed of its intended form and handsomeness. It is still able to cast a cool shade, protect my home by breaking the wind and ice and growing steadfastly adding character to our yard. Perhaps there has been a speechless connection with man all along. The two share the same traits, the same scars, the same stubbornness for life. Perhaps a cosmic connection was made at the time of the first turn of the spade to prepare for its planting. Much like the man that shares its birthday it grows old. Perhaps there has been a harmony between nature, man and soul and both have flourished from it, although awkwardly, surviving and growing despite the forces. Bonsai, the western world’s largest bonsai may be growing in my front yard.

I’ll leave it to you to decide if that’s a Zen thing.

DSS

Dodging the Bullet

Posted: December 9, 2020 in Everyday Life, free verse, poet, writing

It’s December once again, hopefully for the total 31 days. December, we’ve almost made it. If you are like me, this year of 2020 really stinks!  A good thing did happen though. A thing that seems strange that I even have to mention it. A good thing that in the past could have happened to me alone but not to my entire family and friends. I am thankful that all of us did not die. Only a few of my family died and only a few of my greatest friends are now gone. All of us were exposed to the same thing but most of us escaped or survived from it. We are thankful to be alive.

Some of us only survived because we were consciously and totally aware of our surroundings and the risks. If the risk was unescapable, we stayed home. We can do that, we are retired, we don’t have to go anywhere. Groceries are picked up at the curb in a car, we are in masks and with windows up we yell through the glass if we have to talk to the masked person loading the car. We mask because the kids loading our trunk are masked. They are very brave. I am not sure they understand how brave they really are.

Another reason we are alive, we believe in science, we wear our masks and we do not follow a foolish man.

E.

Within the words of let it be
I am waiting for an answer,
Not knowing where
I’ll wait for her
From her darkness or her lighted whisper

I set at home while here alone
Waiting my lost Mary mother
If she comes to me
will I but see
her silent wisdom as my only answer

DSS

 

Day of Rain

Posted: April 26, 2020 in Everyday Life, free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing

While we wait, only eat then sleep
Within these walls, counted minutes creep
Wash hands wash face stay away 6 feet
or meet the day found 6 feet deep

E

We wait, can much more come
Some will calmly weigh the options
Some will franticly react
Some will rise above
Some will don masks and take charge
Some become the many
Hope not Thought lost or thought forgotten
Only counted on the first day
Monetized on the second
Heroically thought saved on the third
But only lovingly wrapped in clean white linens on the last.
Can much more come?

DSS

When the green shot glass fell and bounced to the linoleum floor, the room grew sober and silent. He’d had enough of the shouting and swearing of the Alabama boys with their blustery threats and pigeon lies. It wasn’t their success that was being celebrated that night. Only by the aimless wandering bar hopping had they come upon this place, this place of stale smoke, spilled Jim Beam and soft skin perfumed women. Their loud mouths weren’t wanted, neither were their rolls of ill gotten money.

Gerald Watswigger had made a lot of ill-fated decisions in his short life but this one had irrevocable consequences. A 9 millimeter bullet at close range makes a perfect 9 millimeter size entrance wound in any part of the human body but on exit leaves a massive hole emptied of flesh, blood, pain and life.  Gerald had placed one squarely between the eyes of the man who had threatened him with the heavy end of a snooker pool cue. Once again he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Gerald would pay for it the rest of his life down so deep in the Alabama State Prison that they would have to pipe daylight to him.

DSS

(This is of a series of the flash fiction life of Gerald Watswigger. The life of a troubled and unfortunate man. Search his name for more stories.)

I am thinking of the bird’s nest built on the spring season wreath that was hanging on my front porch at home this summer. I thought the eggs would surely be hatched by the time I returned. Perhaps then the young birds, mouth wide open, would still be begging a meal from mother robin and stealing a bug or two from their nest mates. Or maybe if I was long coming  home, they would have flown the nest, placing their trust in the thin air as I am today traveling far from my home.

It is always sunny here on top, above the clouds. As the wisps of mist turn to thin clean air, we break into a hidden world above the cloudy day. Towering columns reach high but try as they may they still are beneath us. Our earth thousands of feet below is now only white vapor and rain and clouds covered by sunshine.

One hundred and five minutes, that’s how long it will take to travel what would take my four-wheeled conveyance eleven and a half hours. I’m traveling seven times faster but there is no breeze to my face or rumble at my feet. And as far as I know, no one on my bumper, to the left or right of my lane or rambling too slow ahead of us. How can others sleep while I am wide-eyed. I have traveled 12700 miles by air this year so far. I have never kept track of the miles in earlier years. Tell me, how many miles does it take until a guy is able to read a newspaper, play a computer game or sleep while being 35000 feet in the air and traveling 535 miles an hour? How many miles until you are deadened to the marvel of it all? Keep the orange juice, forget the pretzels or peanuts, don’t bother me, I’m looking out the window and wishing I was up front.

Nothing better than being on the way home. Check your bags, who cares if you’ll never see them again. No reason to drag your dirty laundry with you in the tightly packed, neatly tagged and tiny wheeled canvas Samsonite. Sure, keep the computer and camera but pack the little black bag so you are traveling lightly. You need at least one hand to drink the Tim Hortons or Starbucks. Worry about balancing the coffee and watching the scenery, not balancing two bags and keeping sight of your replaceable possessions. Don’t waste your time and energy protecting your “stuff”. You are miles from home and seeing things that you may never have the chance to see again, even if it is just a pretty girl or a set of 4-year-old twins each carrying a complete boxed set of Matchbox cars that Dad gave them on his way to war.

DSS

* From 4 years ago.

So, you want a few thoughts from me, OC ?  I really am the most colorful, I think, of this bunch that John allows to occupy his otherwise very empty mind, body and soul.

I’ve been having a lot of fun this year. As some of you know , I am more or less apolitical (E says that means non-political) and I don’t give a shit. But I will say this, President Trump is about the stupidest son-of-bitch that we’ve ever had as the leader of our country. I’m just telling you right up front how I feel. You see, I’m just telling you exactly how it is. I ain’t what you call wishy – washy. Some probably say that I am stupid for saying it that way. And you know what, so do I, but that’s just how I feel whether you agree or not, even if it isn’t true. I’m just telling you what I’m thinking right off the top of my head. Take it or leave it mother-fuckers.

Now before you get all burly and excited and threaten to beat me to a pulp for talking that way about your President, stop and think a minute! How I explained myself in that last paragraph is exactly what you stupid bastards said you liked about Trump.

You said “I like him because he tells it the way it is. He doesn’t mince words, he tells ya exactly what’s on his mind, right or wrong , whether you agree with him or not. I admire that about a man and a President”. If you love that about a man, you should love the hell out of me.

But truly, I gauge a man when I first meet him this one way and one way alone. And it is as simple as this, would I like working for a boss like him? Would he be an ass-hole to work for?

Come on you working stiffs out there that voted for him. How many bosses have you had that were like that ass-hole that you told to go fuck himself and you quit to find a better job? You voted for him as President? You need to wake up for Christ’s sake! He’s not going to do anything for you.

Shit, I could run for President.

Now, who brought the beer. Let’s have a drink and try to forget the mess you guys have made, then we’ll find that strip club a few blocks from here I want to check out.

OC

( I guess there isn’t much here that OC has said that I need to apologize for.  He just likes to tell it the way it is.    John)

I was walking down the street last Thursday
and a dog with bright white teeth and a big smile
approached me from the right.
He said he enjoyed walking with humans and asked if he could join me.
I, a man of great tolerance, said OK, glad to have ya!
We had walked only a block or two and he starts sniffing the street light poles and fire hydrants.
And with that big smile on his face he raises his leg and pisses on one of the posts.
Shocked…. I said, “look, that is very embarrassing to me, to be walking with you and then
having you do that. people will think you are my dog and blame me for messing up the sidewalk.
And how can you do that with such a big smile on your face?”

He said, “Smile on my face? I’m not smiling, dogs don’t smile! I have an urinary infection!” Then he gave me the finger!

OC