One Of the Good Guys

I’m still shocked, in disbelief, that a neighbor and good friend passed away last night.  He was within a year or two of my age.

Rick and I were retired communications workers–for the same company in adjoining states.  We could fall back on telling telephone “war” stories.  Rick always lent a helping hand when needed.

Because of Rick, I have buried telephone service to my workshop.  It’s an old-fashioned landline.  How else were my antique telephones going to work?  With ringers as loud as firehouse gongs, they’d refuse to operate on wireless–the very idea.

Every good thing that will be said, Rick deserves.  He was one of the good guys.  Me and the dogs will miss him.  We couldn’t pass by Rick’s house on walks without Max putting on the brakes.  Max loved to see Rick–go back to his workshop.  I know it was an interruption.  Rick refurbished golf carts.  Rick always found the time.


Ding-Dong You’re Dead

What would the neighbors think?

Gossip flew all day long

Enormity of non-conformity

Explained especially for me

Of course they were–they always were

Refused, till owls hooted in hell

Whiskers looked good on catfish

Butter on butterflies–not so much

Old fashioned passion, preferred it that way

Nobody could see into heart’s tinted windows

Mysteries of the soul

Suburban legends

Kept doing what they were doing

Until, ding-dong, they were dead

Did anyone know anyone, anymore?