Published four years ago. A poem about choices.
As unseasonably warm as it has been lately, this isn’t a bad idea.
It has been foggy the last two early mornings. Going for regular morning walks has been hazardous. Seeing my way down the road isn’t a problem, but rather, being seen by motorists. I carry a rechargeable flashlight.
Another issue that’s close to my heart, is office fund-raising. It’s nothing new. When I grew up in the fifties and sixties, there were garden seeds, turtles candies, and other fund-raisers. All to raise money for school or church.
In my opinion, there’s more fund-raising now. Schools are in more of a budget crunch. When we had school-age kids it was tit-for-tat. You buy my kid’s stuff, and I’ll buy your kid’s stuff.
As retired empty-nesters, it became too much of a burden. Over a year’s time, it was a considerable amount of money. We stopped donating, unless it was for a close friends or relatives.
Do you think office fund-raising is unfair? Should it be stopped? Could it be done differently? Have you been solicited at local businesses? I sometimes shop in a different nearby state, and have no connection whatsoever, with their local schools.
This may have been written four years ago, but, it’s what’s happening now.
“Hey, White Beard.” Mike greeted. Bob grinned–stroked his chin-whiskers. Yeah, some got it–some don’t.
“Where’s Alan hiding?”
“I don’t know–saw his girlfriend yesterday. Said she was working at Dugan’s or some other place,” Mike answered.
Mike hadn’t seen Alan since the day before.
Gravelly voiced Mike, was the group’s unofficial spokesperson. Alan had been charged with bringing picnic supplies.
“He was a no-show, because he’d stayed up he whole @%&$# night,” Mike speculated.
“Just made it worse for everybody else.” Mike said between coughs.
“How many we got left?” Asked Bob.
“Here’s more hot dog buns. They’ll work the same for brats.”
“Mike–do you want me to run out for some more?”
“There’s no need for it.”
“That cat–comes around here every night looking for a meal.”
“It had better stay away from my food. Scat, cat!” Dave threatened.
“Don’t chase it off, Dave,” Mike said. “We’ve never had any rats. Or, snakes, either.”
The stray tabby ran, hid somewhere in the kudzu along the park’s edge, near the railroad tracks.
It’s before sunrise. I’m a little bleary-eyed. Most importantly, I’m still here, after being battered by Hurricane Nate.
The storm bullied its way through during the early morning hours.
Electric power stayed on, as far as I can recall. I went to bed around eleven last night.
Was there any damage? Daylight will tell the story. A foot of rain came down in my area overnight, and there may be some tree limbs down.
I’m grateful we’re still here. Hope this tropical weather season comes to an end.
Imagine if you will, drinking the liquid and gloppy stuff from your sixties lava lamp.
A bar in Australia featured colorful cocktails with gloppy liquid “floaty” stuff. I don’t know how they got the floaters to move randomly. Thanks, but no thanks.
Another tropical weather system is churning in the Southern Gulf. It may come here as a class #1 hurricane or tropical storm. This has been a busy season.
Probably will not evacuate. May put up storm panels on the windows. Losing electrical power would be the biggest inconvenience. In any case, this will happen this coming Saturday, and more likely Sunday. Wish me luck.