Something I've Had on the Back Burner

 

     I usually feel good about myself until I watch an episode of TED Talks, then I feel very inadequate, dumb - as if I’ve missed the boat.  The show is excellent but not at all good for my mental well-being.

     The more I watch the dumber I feel.  I struggle sometimes just to keep up as they go about explaining their theories or discoveries.  I have to force myself to focus and not be distracted by the cat, strange noises in the back yard or smoke coming from the kitchen.

     Yesterday I watched as someone explained how mushrooms were going to save us all.  These mushrooms were going to clean up our environment, remove the bugs from our homes and repopulate the forest.  That is one impressive fungus my friend.

     Because they are standing up there spouting off all this technical jargon I tend to believe every word.  If they were selling stuffed mushrooms at the end of their speech I would placed my order.

     I believe the thing that bothers me most about all of this is the boat I mentioned in the first paragraph.  We’ve all heard about this boat but just where is it, and why is it always missed?  It is, no doubt, a general phrase handed down from our parents, who themselves claimed to have missed it.

     At least my Mother says she missed it.  My Dad, for some reason, spent all of his life waiting for his ship to come in.  That never happened.  Maybe had he been watching for a boat and not a ship things might have gone differently.

     There are nine things I’ll never have to worry about; the first is standing up on a TED Talks stage and spouting off about something.  I don’t know anything, which surprisingly enough is a good thing because it will keep me off the stage. 

    Second, I’m a writer and as we all know, writers write – they don’t give speeches; and three through nine is that I don’t know anything.  This blog should be proof of that.

     Doing my best to be a well adjusted individual I have accepted the fact that I have indeed missed the education boat and there isn’t likely any ship on my horizon.  I’m good with that.  I’ve also seen for myself that they can, when they want to, turn up the intelligence on television, although it is a very rare occasion.

     These thoughts have been festering for a bit and now that I've said them  I’m off to check out the source of the smoke coming from the kitchen. 

      I would have thought whatever it was would have burned itself out while I was watching television.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

    

On The Cover of the Rolling Stone

 

 

 

 

 

Searching for Doctor Hook.

 

 

 



The Key

It was a key of sorts and the more I turned it the tighter I could feel the spring getting.

When the key would not turn any more it somehow made me feel good, and not just a feeling of accomplishment.  Exactly why I felt good I couldn’t say; I just did.

I didn’t give it another thought and just kept going about my business. 

That afternoon I cleaned out my garage, no small task, and after that I took several bags of empty cans and bottles to the recycling center. On my way back I made one stop at the hardware store but just to look around.  Its a guy thing.

Once home again I fixed dinner and popped it into the oven.  While that was cooking I ran the vacuum around the den and living room.

After dinner I put my TV tray away and cleaned up the dishes.  I leaned back in my favorite chair and clicked on the evening news.

I could tell I was finally beginning to unwind.

 

 

Product Placement

 

Even though it gets dull

guess what – so do I –

I’ve switched to a pencil

no pens, not for I,

 

No pens with their skipping

or smeary ink blotches,

No Paper-mates, Bics

or costly Mont Blanc’es,

 

No unsightly stains

below my shirt pocket,

Can’t run out of ink

half way through the docket,

 

No clicky-top noises

from push button tips -

Just sounds of co-workers

munching Frito Corn Chips.

 

 

 



I Call This Piece "S"

 

 

 

 



It's not like I make this stuff up...

 

 

 



I Liked it Better

 

 

when keys didn’t chirp.



 

 

 

 

 

 

(Not one of my photos - but I like it)

 



A Favorite - Really?

 

 



When they ran out of gas they simply pulled off the highway and set up camp.  They had been headed to the desert to camp anyway so why not here?

 

They got themselves far enough away from the road to be safe but still close enough to hear any help that might come along.

 

By that afternoon the wind had kicked up so hard they had to keep their faces buried in their hands to protect their eyes from all the sand, which was a shame because they never got to watch their tent go sailing up, spin around and finally fly out of sight, like some very expensive tent-shaped kite.

 

The only reason the arguing lasted into the evening was because you-know-who had locked the keys in the truck, so getting at the batteries and lamp oil was out of the question.

 

The ultimate decision to leave the truck there and start walking back to the highway in search of help had been unanimous. 

Had they left some kind of marker along the edge of the road they might have eventually been able to return to the spot where they had started, but of course they didn’t. 

 

Funny thing – even though they never did find their truck again, for some reason you-know-who’s dad had a major fit over the fact that they had lost his favorite shovel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



An Artful Blend

 

Look at it as if it were art –

 

                            stand back a bit -

 adjust the lighting...

 

Parts of it were hand formed


            others were machined with delicate precision - 

  

It has buttons and handles, levers and knobs.

 

                        There are windows, drawers and warning signs –

 

                              clamps, gears and lights.

 

  There are temperatures and timers -

 

                    buzzers, bins and behaviors -

 

                              and an aroma

 

  somewhat indigenous to the world of art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fear of Heights

It is one of the life forms on this planet.  It is designed to blend in, perhaps resemble a leaf so as not to be eaten by some passing bird.

 

I encountered it by accident; in fact, at first I thought it was a leaf.  You see – we were out front raking - trying to tidy up the yard before winter.  I thought the wind had blown it against the house and it somehow stuck to the bricks.

 

Once I took a closer look I could see that it wasn’t stuck but was actually holding on for dear life. The poor thing was afraid of heights.  How awful to be something designed to fly and yet be afraid of heights.

 

My first instinct was to try to help it, maybe gently lower it to the ground so it could once again feel safe, but how could I do this?  The little guy was holding on so tight and I’m guessing he had his little eyes squinched closed so he didn’t have to look down.

 

That’s all he’d need is to open his eyes and see some giant human hand come reaching for him.  He wouldn’t know I meant no harm.  I’m sure his little heart was beating a mile-a-minute.  I had to face facts; I wasn’t going to be able to help this little guy.  He was on his own.  Nature is just so cruel sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe I should just smack it with my shoe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Different Life

It is a very different kind of life and a really strange place to live.



First off - there is no public transportation and no one has their own car.



Walking anywhere is out of the question.




The only music you ever hear is whatever you have going on inside your head.




Forget about utensils - when it is time to eat you just grab what you can.




and don't think about using your hands.




You haven't any.




Most everyone you see isn't from your neighborhood.




It's like living in the jungle - but without the trees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And if that wasn't scary enough...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You run into things like this...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don't stare at him - just keep going.

 

 

 

 

 



Things were never out of control

I can try to explain it to you but some of it may not make sense.  A lot of it has to do with timed or rather orchestrated events.  Okay, wait; let me start by saying that spirits are real.  We are here on earth with all of you.  We don’t have magical powers and just because we become spirits doesn’t necessarily mean right off we know what we’re doing.  There are no books or classes on this stuff, and because we’ve become spirits doesn’t suddenly make us smart.  One of the biggest things in our favor is that we can manipulate actions knowing what the long term outcome will be.  I’ll give you an example of that in a moment.

First, let me make it clear that we are not to be confused with Angels.  None of the spirits I know or have encountered are Angels.  That is an entirely different category.  They do have powers and they do wonderful work.  We, on the other hand…  Okay, just let me tell you what I did the other night and maybe you’ll get a better picture of the things we do.

I had come across a wonderful couple of people.  They weren’t married or anything, just neighbors, but each had lived a good, clean life.  I could see, however, that loneliness had consumed them.  They were going through their lives doing what they knew to be right but inside they were quite sad.  I knew this to be something I could fix and I did it with a simple dish towel.

The woman had set her book down on the coffee table and went into her kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate. As the pan of water boiled on her stove she put the hot chocolate mix into her favorite mug.  After carefully pouring the hot water into the chocolate she set the pan back onto the stove and with a dish towel carefully wiped the excess chocolate powder from the rim of the mug.

Here’s the part where I came in.   As she turned with her mug of hot chocolate to head back to the den to read more of her book I gave her a mental suggestion to just toss the dish towel on the counter next to the pot of hot water.  She did this and just as I knew it would, the corner of the towel fell onto the hot burner.

As she quietly read the next chapter in her book the dish towel out in the kitchen began to smolder and then catch fire.  It was going quite good by the time she noticed the smoke coming from the kitchen door.

The thing to remember here is that we spirits can see mental snap-shots of future events.  I always knew no real damage would be done.  She, of course, called the fire department and other than several firemen tracking snow inside her house all was fine.

That, obviously, was not the event I was orchestrating.  That didn’t occur until spring when her neighbor cut a few of his prize Tulips from his flowerbed and carried them next door and rang the bell.

Like A Good Neighbor

They had been neighbors for years, living right next door to each other, sometimes getting each others mail by mistake.  They would see one another occasionally as they were coming and going; maybe once a week out to the market or into town and they would wave politely, as neighbors do.

She had been a widow for over 14 years and had owned her house since the neighborhood was first built.  Many years ago she was president of the homeowners association.  She found that to be fun at first but quickly grew tired of constant suggestions and endless complaints.  It became more of a bother than she had thought it would be and after her second year stepped aside. 

The old man next door, perhaps a little older than she, was always dressed as if it were Sunday.  He was dapper and quiet reserved.  His yard was as manicured as he and his flower bed always the talk of the neighborhood.

They never really ventured outside in the winter; she lived mostly in her den reading whatever she had gotten from the library, while he often sat in the eating area of his kitchen, watching the news on the small television that sat on the counter next to the microwave.

For weeks at a time there would be no signs of life from either house.   Then last Friday night as the old man sat watching CNN, the walls of his kitchen flashed with the reflected lights from a fire engine.  He went to the window and could see firemen rushing up and down the driveway of his neighbor’s house.

Something happened to him at that very moment.  As he stood looking out, seeing the red flashing lights of the fire truck contrast against the stark white of the snow covered ground his heart sank.  His fingers tightened around the curtain he held open.  His breath fogging up the window as he hoped harder than he had ever hoped before that she was alright.

He would have given anything at that moment to turn the clock back, to change the events of last summer.  Instead of casually nodding hello he would have spoken; he would have been just a little less reserved and spoken to the woman that he admired so much.  He would have asked her to dinner, if only to talk in generalities about the neighborhood, their houses or the new coat he had seen her wearing but never commented on.

He let go of the curtain and sat back down in front of the flickering television.  He wasn’t hearing any sound but was blankly staring at the images of some foreign countries fighting each other, bombing cars and buildings and an old man standing behind a podium most likely proclaiming his side was right.

 A tear rolled down the old man's cheek as a State Farm commercial came on.

           

Rivet

 

 

Hanging from a Willow tree

A slither snake did dangle

Just above a frog -

 

Unbeknownst along came me

The leash was all a tangle

Between myself and dog –

 

A mighty hop – a river splash

A very smart decision –

 

The frog escaped – due mostly to

Independent vision.

 

Hummingbird Thumbs

 

 

If hummingbirds had

opposable thumbs -

they could carry a tune

as they flew –

 

I’d retrace my steps

back through my life -

until all of my footprints

were new –

 

When tree-tops would tickle

the bottom of clouds –

who would giggle

as slowly they passed –

 

Good times and summer

and friends that I knew -

would not be a thing

of the past –

 

But hummingbirds haven't
opposable thumbs -

can't hitchhike
at least so I'm told -

and I can't return
to that time in my life -

It's simply my turn
to be old.