Why Can’t I Get An Answer?

After being gone for an extended period of time, I tend to get reflective.

Elvis Presley’s “Why Can’t I Get An Answer?” still plays in the background of my head.

What was important to remember from the last three weeks?

Perhaps most important, is that, there aren’t always answers–only more questions.

Dignity can’t be taken away unless we allow it to be.

Confidence in one’s self goes a long way. I learned the hard way.

I hadn’t been around little ones for a long time.  Young children’s minds were like little sponges.  They watched everyone and everything around them.

Things will never again be like they were in my youth.  And, some of that’s a good thing.

Someone, once said, there is more work done before and after vacation, than at any other time.  I can attest to that.

 

Someday It Will Rain

Messes like these started with single careless acts.  An encore presentation from four years ago.  Perhaps inspired by me doing yard work all day.

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Muted sunlight, filtered

through palmettos

thick, river

bank brush

Colorfully labeled

plastic bottles

aluminum cans

convenience store

Styrofoam cups

branches and driftwood

contrasted, with water

cress greenness, linked

arm-in-arm, rafted

Huckleberry Finn

style, to the sea

Civilization devolved slowly

Parade noises faded

into previous night’s

memory–these children

of promise, like

“Quest For Fire” extras

practiced their lines

Jousted for dominance

Plucked another

cold one, from the

plastic ring–“dead soldier”

empties, tossed in

spirited competition

like skipped river stones

The skies darkened

Blustery winds blew

Warning signs ignored

when the signs

were all there

Whose side

were they on?

Nobody knew

Reveling continued

till early morning

when liquor was gone

First sprinkles

then torrent

remaining traces

of conscience

floated away

 

It Wasn’t Being Disrespectful

Yesterday, was Memorial Day–a day for most folks to go to the beach, have a picnic, take the day off; enjoy life in general.

Not so, in my case. I did repairs on my barn’s fascia boards. At my age, I don’t do heights and climbing ladders, as well as I used to.

Help, was solicited from a friend, planned a few weeks ago. He came with help, the job completed promptly and competently.

It’s on me to do caulking and painting–which I can handle. Too tired to do any barbecuing, my spouse and I went for take-out, last evening.

Sleep came easy.  One problem gone, on to the next challenge.

What Would It Take…

…To get you behind the wheel of this new Chromemobile 500 today?  No money down, easy on the budget, payment terms.  You know you like it.

After car shopping yesterday, my wife and I were completely exhausted.  For the record, it was her idea this time.  Why was this process like having multiple root canals?  One dealership completely ignored us.  How did they stay in business?

I’m aware that I have “car-it is.” It was inherited from my father.  That was why I stayed away from car dealerships, car shows.  The first step was admitting there was a problem.  Confession was good for the soul.

It had been five years since my last obsession.  There was a slick-looking compact pickup truck my wife fell in love with.  She did her best to persuade me.  It’s parked in our garage.

The Qualm Before the Storm

Throughout the ages, things were named

Things did what things were intended to do

Sometimes same things had different names

Some people had couches in their living rooms

Others insisted they were davenports

Diehards argued for davinettes

They’d be davinettes, till the day they died

No matter–they were still the same things

Served the same purposes

Some didn’t like current names for things

They preferred different, new “thing” names

New names–for the same old things

Other than being confusing for those familiar

With the old names, things still did the same things

In spite of changes in their nomenclature