Theme Week # 9

I sat across the table from him listening to his voice trying to remember something about him, something I must have loved. The harder I tried, the more of a stranger he became.

Nothing in his hands, his eyes, or his face; nothing was me. Fifteen years of "Who am I?" replaced with the reality of not knowing who he was and not wanting to yet, I sat and listened. I listened to him talk about his life, and family sounding as though he were rehearsing an interview for a job he knew he'd never get...and never really wanted. The careful placement of words and the avoidance of others, kept the distance between all of us. A distance comfortable with excuses.

He lifted his mug to his lips and I watched my mother's face. As he tilted it back, I remembered. I remembered not who he was but who he wasn't, and why. She looked at me the way she used to believing somehow her eyes were erasers but I always knew.

We left the restaurant and walked to our cars. The moment of goodbye was awkward. My brother and sisters stumbled for their words while he dug deep for the right ones to say. I did what he wanted to and what I remembered most about him; I walked away.

Theme Week # 8

"Washing up." That's what they called it before running water and bathtubs existed. A pitcher of hot water, a sponge, and a bar of soap. In ten minutes, the offensive areas were semi-cleaned then back to baking bread, canning vegetables, and chopping wood for the long winter.

Washing was just that; removing dirt and odor with soap and water. Whether it was bathing in a cold creek or sitting in a metal tub with heated water poured over you, the only purpose was getting clean.

Nothing is what it used to be. Grocery shopping isn't about putting food on the table for your family. It's biology in a box or can of low fat, sugar free, high grain, processed, low cholesterol, hydrogenated, organic contents, not food.

School isn't about reading, writing, and arithmetic. Get past the emotional stability, sexual harassment, separation of church and state, and you might get an essay that doesn't involve killing a family.

Nothing is simple. A metal tub is now a four person, eight jet, porcelain "wash room" with music, candles, bubbles and a pillow. Getting clean is now only an excuse to get away from the things we somehow manage to always "unsimplify".

Theme Week # 7

Mayberry had Barney Fife, Blue Hill, Maine had Allen Mello. He was as much a fixture at Merrill and Hinkley, the local market, as the uneven wooden floors and the jingle bell hanging from the door. Like a back alley in New York, you smelled him long before you saw him only close up it was much worse. He wore a World War II hat cocked slightly to the side. When he wasn't having the best day, which he never failed to share, he wore the hat high on his forehead revealing the few greasy strands of hair he still had left. Based on the smell, and stain patterns, it was obvious he only had one outfit; a blue dickie shirt and pair of pants. Another may have existed but neither ever came in contact with the inside of a washing machine.

The clerks always found something else to do when Allen walked towards the counter, suddenly shelves needed to be stocked. It was an unspoken game of who could get away the fastest. Call it dumb luck or a subconscious pity but I was usually the one left behind.

"Mornin sweet cheeks!" "Hello, Allen." "Give me a couple of those scratch tickets." His hands were beyond filthy. Layer upon layer of dirt. Just watching him scratch his head made my skin crawl. Needless to say, exchanging money caused its own anxiety. Not only had he held the money in his hands, it lived in his pocket for a period of time. "My kitties need their food." If he ate, he didn't buy the food from that market. The rumor was he had no cats.

Regardless of his appearance, he seemed genuinely kind. He kept stuffed teddy bears in his truck and never failed to offer one to a little kid passing by. They either took the bear with great hesitation, or ran in fear clinging to their parents legs. Though some felt his Teddy bears were a perverse lure for kids to gain his trust, I saw it to be a sincere joy it gave him to make a kid smile.

I can't lie, I dreaded seeing Allen walk through the door. His unkept appearance and offensive smell were unwelcome to the senses but somehow, the day didn't feel right when he didn't.

Theme Week # 5

(John, for the record, I dreaded writing this narrative that's why you're getting it now.)


I didn't think it would ever stop raining so I was surprised to wake to the sun in my face. My nightshirt was stuck to my back and the room felt like a sauna. The plans for going hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains dissipated the moment I stepped outside. The sky was hazy and the air was thick. There was no way I was doing anything that didn't involve water. Especially anything that required physical exertion.

I called my friend Joey, a true southern boy with a deep voice and a long drawl. "Hey girl, what's gooiin on?" "Change of plans. Call the guys. I'll get Rene and Beth. Screw sweltering ten miles up a mountain and jumping over snakes every few hundred feet. We're going tubing!" Joey never cared what we did as long as we did something. "You got it honey. See ya'll in thirty."

In Johnson City, Tennessee, tubing is as common as putting gas in your car. You somehow even learned not to fear the water moccasins. We'd been enough times and everyone knew the score; Joey got the tubes, I got the beer, Rene packed the cooler, and everyone met at the Watauga river.

I pulled my car behind Joey's truck. We left mine at the ending point so we had a way back to the truck. Kev, John, and Van were in the back pushing the hot tubes away with their feet. Ten minutes is all it takes to turn that black rubber into steam burn.

I squeezed in the front seat, next to Joey who was already sweating profusely wearing only a pair of cut off jeans. Rene sat on Beth's lap in the passengers seat. She whined the entire twenty minute trip because Beth's sweaty skin was sticking to her; being a former beauty queen, it couldn't be her sweaty skin sticking to Beth.

We pulled along side the river which was also a rafting site so I was surprised we found a parking spot so close. We peeled our legs off the front seat and headed down the bank to the water. Joey and the guys kicked the tubes out of the truck, rolled them into the water then flipped them several times until they cool enough to sit on. We stripped off our clothes down to our bathing suits and dove in the water. We noticed the majority of the rafters were coming out of the water. Crews changed every two hours so we didn't think much about it.

The three-day rain made the water colder than usual but anything was better than the heat bouncing off the pavement. We loaded the cooler on Joey's tube, which is more a raft, and got ourselves situated before pushing off. A man sitting on the bank yelled, "Hey, ya'll better be careful. The rivers pretty rough. You might want life jackets." "Thanks, we'll be Ok, Joey said as he pulled my tube towards him. Joey and I had a unique friendship. We weren't a couple but we did everything couples do so we always found a way to be ten feet behind everyone.

The cliffs along side the river made it look deeper and never-ending. Enjoying the solitude of having the river to ourselves; I closed my eyes, leaned my head back on the tube and kicked my feet in the water while Joey played with my hair. John cracked a beer and toasted the heavens. "Here's to the poor souls sweating their asses off on the mountain!" Van, being the youngest of the group; a former football player turned bouncer, thought it would be funny to flip Rene's tube. Needless to say, we cringed as she came up for air. Getting her hair wet was never a part of her plan. "You son of a bitch!" Her voice echoed against the cliffs. "Shhh", I said. "You shh. You aren't the one with water up her nose!" "No, be quiet. I hear something." It was a sound I will never forget. The bone crushing sound of a force so powerful, I couldn't speak. No one said anything. We just looked at each other, hoping someone would say we weren't hearing what we heard.

The water started to pick up. Rene's tube floated away from her and she was being pulled down river. The closer we got to the bend, the louder the sound. "Everyone off their tubes. Swim! Swim!", Joey screamed. Joey and I looked at each other for a split second then jumped in.

The tubes floated past us. Within seconds, they whipped around the bend. Sucked into the bowels of hell. I knew if I saw what was around the corner, it would be too late. I swam with every bit of strength I had.

Just before the bend, to the left of the river; there was a strip of land. Ten feet off that stood a herd of cows. A strange site for another state. Rene was almost to the bank. Van and John were a few feet behind her. Joey was about ten feet away. I was last. Seeing him in front of me made me swim harder. I didn't want to die, not alone, not without him.

The roaring was so loud and so close; I could barely hear Van yelling, "Swim faster. You've got to swim faster." I wish I could say his cheering helped but all I could picture was getting sucked into the water and being crushed against the jagged rocks. I saw Joey get to the bank. I definitely couldn't die now. I swam so hard, I couldn't feel my arms. When I made it to the bank, everyone collapsed. Joey put his arms around me and cried like a baby. No one cared that we were sitting in piles of cow shit, not even Rene. Once we caught our breaths, we got up and headed down river. The roaring got louder and then we saw it. No one said anything. We didn't have to. The river said it for us.

Journal Entry #14

I try, I swear I do. I even changed my alarm clock. No more loud honking buzzes to annoy me awake just the steady chirping of birds. I make a conscious effort every morning to leave my house with a positive attitude. Good karma is supposed to return to you. Well so far, it hasn't.

I don't know what it is about Dunkin Donuts on the Odlin road but I meet every rude person on the planet there. A week ago a woman cut me off. Instead of getting mad or tailgating (which is always my first instinct), I took a deep breath and before I could blow the damn think out, she was blocking the entrance to Dunkin Donuts so I couldn't drive in. There are two lines going in, one for the drive through (which is where her lazy ass was supposed to be) and one to enter. Pull it together, I thought. Then I saw it; she was laughing at me in her side view mirror. No, that can't be. She wouldn't cut me off then block me out and actually laugh about it. Sure enough, she was! OK, kiss that karma shit goodbye. Like a kid whose sand castle had just been knocked down, I pulled over the curb along side of her, rolled down my window and through up the "fuck you" gesture. She stopped laughing. I guess I probably scared her taking it a little over the edge.

Fast forward to this morning...I decided to go through the drive through and avoid the downpours. Turning left into Dunkin Donuts, sometimes you have to wait because the drive through goes to the end of the lot. Common courtesy for the people who are pulling up and have the advantage of turning right would be to allow us (the lefties) since we had been waiting longer to go ahead. Hell no! Some woman in a big Suburban doesn't just turn right, she sneaks her bumper up before the line moves so we can't get in front of her. She looked at me as I slumped forward on my steering wheel in frustration. I looked at her and mouthed that she was rude (no, I held the swearing.)and she turned away. Another person pulled behind her. I admit it. I have a serious problem with road rage and rude people but I was tired, hungry, and my jeans were completely soaked from the ass down. Well, it wasn't all bad. The car behind her let me go in front of him so when I pulled up to pay, I paid for his breakfast and drove away. At least his karma came back to him!

Theme Week # 6

I knew something was wrong when they handed us the keys with a map...

When my husband and I got engaged, we decided to elope in Vegas. Spending thousands of dollars on a wedding dress worn once, a reception, and flowers that would be thrown away after the ceremony seemed like a waste.

I booked the wedding at the Little White Chapel and the room at Circus Circus. My sister, Cathy and her husband, Steve came as our witnesses.

We flew in after one in the morning. The streets were lit up and people were everywhere. The city was hopping but our asses were dragging. All we could think about was getting to our rooms and passing out in our beds.

The lobby looked like the inside of a circus tent. The ceilings were pink, blue, green, and yellow striped. A large clown statue with big floppy feelt stood in the entrance. Everything was trimmed in gold. It was bright, cheerful, and tastefully decorated.

We stood in line 45 minutes before checking in. We took our keys and map and headed to our rooms. "This place is bigger than I thought." We followed the directions which took us away from the bright colors of the tent and into a dark parking lot. I asked the security bikers if we were going the right way. Dragging our bags over speed bumps, we saw our room numbers. "Tell me this isn't right!" The buildings just old. I'm sure the rooms are beautiful.

Cathy is the princess of the family. Her white sneakers stay white, her coasters are always neatly stacked, and a dirty house to her are a couple dishes in the sink. Opening the door to our rooms, I wasn't surprised to see her face go pale. Sleazy was too nice of a description. The furniture hadn't been updated since the early seventies. The dresser drawers were off their hinges and not able to close. The dark carpte was specked with white pieces of trash. The bathroom tiles were broken and the shower curtain was wripped. Trying to calm the situation, I suggested Cathy and Steve stay in the other bed in our room. Somehow, our room didn't seem as dirty as theres. "Just don't use the comforter", I warned. "We'll change rooms in the morning."

I had almost convinced them until Cathy pulled back the comforter. There it was. The dread of dreads. "I', not sleeping in this room!" I was right there with her.

My husband called the front desk and was told nothing could be done until the morning. He hung up the phone and Cathy's face got whiter. "There is no way I am staying in this room with a bunch of bed bugs the night before my wedding!"

We grabbed our bags and rolled them down the hallway into the elevator. The ride down was quiet but Cathy's eyes were screaming.

Speed bumps, security bikers, dark parking lots, and 15 minutes later, we were greeted by the clown statue.

At this point, the tired, passive, newlywed to be was now the ravenous pitbull frothing at the mouth. "Who do I talk to about our rooms?" The receptionist pointed me to the managers desk. The claws were ready. Once false word and the jugular was mine!

A chinese man about 5'2" tall greeted me. "How may I help you?"

"I came here to get married. I realize I bought the package deal but I don't think it warrants me sleeping in a room even a hooker would have a hard time with.

With a sweet smile and soft voice, "You're getting married? Had we known that, we would have arranged for the honeymoon suite." Nails retracted, I thanked the manager and gave my sister her key. We took the elevator to our rooms...no speed bumps, just a king size bed with fluffy pillows, and a very happy sister.

Understood and hopefully you will.

I may be a lot of things but I take your class seriously. I struggle with the assignments which makes me a little slow. (I have the narrative due) It's definitely me. I completely understand what you say but putting it to paper isn't as easy.

I'll leave you with one last thought then I'll go back to being the student.

Three years ago a teacher of mine tried to dissuade me from writing a paper because it was too intense of a subject. Being the boring conformist that I am, I should have agreed but decided instead to write it. Maybe it wasn't the greatest writing but it changed the way I viewed my life. You can't imagine how much. I know that wasn't his intent but I appreciated his willingness to let my try.

I should have grown up fighting with the world. Instead, I chose the quiet route. It fits me.

Different

John,
I think it is pretty clear that I am not entirely private about my emotions. The great thing about blogging is being able to put thoughts somewhere that you may not otherwise. I'm a pretty shy person most of the time so expressing my feelings here gives me a bit of release.

I don't think it is an unfair assumption that you are uncomfortable with "mushy" emotions. Whether it is about someone dying or not. It appears, much like my husband, that you appreciate the hard core rebel approach. I'm not the best at roping that emotion in once it's out.

I learned in English Lit. and from you that one form of good writing is not telling everything. I don't think it would surprise you to know how much I have been cutting out of my writing. It doesn't mean I will always know when to say when.

FYI

This is my class site but it is also viewed by my friends and sister so if you see something that seems personal, I don't expect a response. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can label as such!

The comment section is for Goldfine!

Thanks,
D