Just a Short Story

I don’t have pictures of exciting things or new artwork.

But there is a board game I am working on titled, Sustainable Gullibility. It is the advancing on a path to a goal of “Ignorance is Bliss”.  The players advance spaces along the path or are “marginalized” for a period of turns. With today’s America in mind, I began to think of the irony of beliefs. So a toss of the dice determines the color card you will have to obey. Politics and religion are what require a sustainable gullibility to flourish….and both are flourishing in America right now. Only six can play the game and each advances, or sidesteps into marginalization, with his chosen token. Tokens are objects of where we Americans get our beliefs…neighbor’s fence, TV, radio, cell phone, remote control and of course, a tin hat. Examples of instructions are ie. “You have a fish symbol on your car – advance 2 spaces” vs “Your fish has feet – step into marginalization for two turns”. The player never knows what card he will choose. There are some other opportunities to get to that state of bliss, like someone getting a card that says “Church Pancake Dinner! take three marginalized players along with you back on track 3 spaces.”  Who can resist those church socials?  Anyway, you get the idea….

I used to love sculpting old men using plaster and worn tool parts donated by men who tried to understand and contribute to my artwork.  Almost every one of the patriarch sculptures are gone now. Only three stay with me.

Inspired by the men I see most mornings and the old patriarchs who stay in view on a shelf, a story came to me via an old fellow I call Harold. It is a story only two pages long, not because I tired of Harold, but likely he just wanted me out of his hair. I am happy he showed up one day to let me watch a bit of his life. (I like reading this story aloud).

Harold  –  a short story by S. Webster

He sits there near the end of a table, drinking coffee with about five other men.

Takes a sip and mumbles something.

“You talking to me?” asks the man closest to him.

“No.”

Ten minutes ago, he wanted to talk to someone. Anyone who noticed him. Anyone who would make eye contact. But not now. They were too late to hear him tell his story.

Too late because he already forgot half of it and needed too many words to fill in all the blanks that forgetting lets in.

He pushes his coffee away to stand. Fuck growing old! Fuck memories with not enough words. Come to think of it, fuck everything! And he walks out the door.

Here I thought of writing, “walks out the door, across the sidewalk and into traffic.”  But I don’t. Something about him makes me want to know why.

With the slightest of pauses, he turns left. Hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze just enough ahead to make sure he doesn’t bump into anyone. He has no “sorrys” or “excuse mes” left. Everything about him is used up.

I think I heard someone call him Harold last year. So, let’s use his name from now on. There’s a bit of dignity in that – using his name.

Harold walks to the corner and waits for the light to change before crossing. He’s pulled his hat lower on his face to shut out those around him, grateful it is not a MAGA hat that openly begs for comment – cheers or sneers. No, his hat only says, “Ernie’s”,  giving no location.

In the next block, Harold goes into a deli and points to a sandwich in the case. He pays for it and a can of coke that are put in a bag to take with him.

He jaywalks across the street and makes his way to the park. His usual bench beneath a large oak is empty. Once seated, he tries to remember if today is Tuesday. He used to only come here on Tuesday, but for the life of him, can’t remember why. So, just to be safe, he now comes every day. One of them is bound to be Tuesday, right?

Harold opens the bag to take out the sandwich and can of coke to put on the bench beside him. Pressing the bag flat, he places it across his knees. Then he picks up the can to study how he will get it open, remembering to lift each side of the tab with his gnarly fingers until he hears it make a sizzing sound that lets him know he pulled in the right direction. He takes a slow drink to wet a dried throat from breathing through his mouth for the last four blocks. He opens his sandwich and pulls back a slice of bread to remove the lettuce, which he tosses under the bench.

Harold bites into what is left and tries to guess what kind of sandwich it is. Chicken? Tuna? Egg salad? It’s not ham. He knows this because he is not chewing enough for it to be ham.

The next several minutes are spent thinking about what he is eating. Tuna, by the smell of it. The rubbery crunch of celery and onion can’t hide the fishiness of a sandwich that smells like cat food. Can he remember not to get one tomorrow when he goes back to the deli? Probably not.

After putting his empty can in the bag with the uneaten part of the sandwich, he stands and heads toward the closest trash can.

Once back on the sidewalk, Harold starts his two laps around the park before walking over to the library.

They know him here. “Hello Harold, do you need any help?”

“No.”

He only comes here because he remembers it is a quiet place. No talking. Here he can sit at a table, shade his face as he looks down at pictures in a magazine.

But not today. The doors are locked. A sign says, “Closed” and the reason why, that Harold doesn’t read.

He grips the rail as he walks back down the steps and goes home. Four blocks with three right turns.

In the front room Harold sits at the piano and plays the few melodies he can remember before going up to bed.

 

It will be a few days before someone notices he has stopped coming around. No longer coming in for coffee, buying a sandwich, walking in the park.

I don’t know exactly what happened to Harold. I only know he caught my eye one day while tossing lettuce leaves under his bench. We never spoke because he seemed a man of few words. His last might well have been, “Fuck this!”

 

The end

 

So maybe next week I will have something better to share…though, personally, I think an ornery old man is an okay bit of sharing.

Marla comes for a couple days’ visit next week. We will go through the last of what I thought was important to save – just in case that is not going to happen.

The few things left are firmly in the “what was I thinking” category.

Til later….

 

 

No More Buying Plants!

My yard man came yesterday to check things out. i had to admit that I succumbed and bought plants … then got too tired to dig holes. One of them i bought because it had a Japanese name. He asked to see the little paper that is stuck in pots identifying the plant. When I showed it to him he said, ” you do realize this says it will grow ten feet tall and five feet wide?” So we trapped it in a pot.  And I promised I would stay away from plant stores.

This morning I went outside to see what was left of the dogwood…..

and the blooms on new growth of the honeysuckle heading up the pergola.

I bought cut flowers for the neighbor who took me to the oncologist yesterday and a bunch of sunflowers for myself. Any other bloom just looks too fussy for my interior space. This is perfect in the new sunroom.

And remember me thinking about replacing the toilet seat? Well, I did it! Rereading instructions while trying to keep the bidet attachment in place was not a simple task…especially when it was all assembled and the cover caps would not close. After thinking I should just undo it all and use the old toilet seat bolts, it occurred to me that there may be more instructions on the tiny paper I was reading. Sure enough, the main side said…”now tighten all the way down” (which I assumed was the last word) But when I turned the paper over, it continued “until they break off.” Those were the first instructions ever that told me to continue until I broke something.

There was time this week to get another couple of leaf drawings in the book.

Soon I will have plenty of full-grown leaves to choose from.

I continue to work out with the PT who comes here. But he has told me he will be gone for two weeks and left me a more amped-up intense workout. I need to lift my knees higher and keep my stance while moving about and boxing. I need to call out my own sequences of punches while mixing up the orders and punch like I was really connecting. And keep up the balance exercises. I am getting better and twice in the past week have reached well over 7,000 steps per day. My goal is for the time being to meet 6,000.

Anzac day is tomorrow so I will bake those cookies today to share on the corner in the morning. They are a favorite so might drop some with the Australian who runs the bike shop here in town. I need to take in the children’s book, Scrabble, for his kids.

This week I heard from an old friend who I met in a poetry class over ten years ago. His message made me smile as I remembered his poem to an ex-partner about how much his life was changing and each stanza ended with “I do so hope you’re doing well.” Anyway we stayed friends and he asked if I would be interested in doing a presentation on watercolors from soils of North Carolina for an international event some years back. That was a really good time with the Chinese representative having fun painting away on the large map of the state. I love when someone from the past gets in touch and all the memories associated with them and that time make you smile.

I will be having lunch Monday with one of those old friends on Monday. We were both having dinner at a local restaurant Friday night and decided we needed to catch up.

Tomorrow I am going to buy my very own power washer. A small one I can handle just to clean off the front entry and drive. It will also give me a chance to stop at my favorite coffee shop for a lavender latte.

I better get to baking and adding to my step count. Then maybe a nap!

No new poetry but legal pad pages with the start of another short story.

Til later…..

More Audiobooks, More Construction

The last few days have been quite productive on the old screen porch…soon to be sunroom. The days of rain forecasted have put a hold on it for a bit. but we will get there.

I am trying to eat properly, especially getting enough protein. I actually splurged and put two eggs in my spinach omelet the other day. Felt quite decadent to use two eggs in one meal. But I do have a whole dozen left…not the newest nor the freshest, but edible.

I managed to get through a 24 hour Elizabeth George audiobook the other day. She uses so much language! I tried to listen to an American best seller, but found it so boring. Sort of like a hopped-up teenager reading her diary. Now I am well into Louise Penny’s latest Gamache book. I wonder if she will ever get tired of him and just let him stay retired.

The nurse still visits. but I think she stops next week. We enjoy each other’s company. She admires my stamina and clarity of speech…I enjoy her listening to words I have a hard time keeping inside. I will miss her.

The physical therapist comes in about an hour to bat the balloon back and forth with me. The physical hopping back and forth without falling over is more fun than I would have imagined.

I skipped the wine tasting invitation last night. Too much flu going on now and as the physical therapist pointed out, “You have plenty of wine here.”

The last few days have been spent digging out the names and addresses of all republicans in the Senate.  My postcards came yesterday and I needed to make copies of the text I will paste in next to addresses. Soon I will be sending bundles to those who sent me their mailing addresses so they can also send a note to ones lovingly supporting the new leaders of America.

Stitching seems to be the cure. So now I am stitching on top of stitching.

Now it is off to find some lunch and start a big pot of chicken soup.

More later….

A Good Week!

Another walk to tai chi.

More sketchbook butterflies and Moths.

And the new book cases are assembled in the den. The old ones going home with Patrick.

Then putting most of it away on new shelves sized to fit each collection.

Marla will make the final art arrangements when she comes for Thanksgiving.

The drawers are filled with all the artist books I’ve made and just can’t quite part with right now.

And now on to a new addiction. Rag Rocks. Amy and Marla’s idea to keep me occupied. They even requested some for Christmas.

I have plenty of smooth stones from the landscaping along the side and back of the house. It is fun to make selections. And then ripping up small patches of cloth and threading a needle.

Top side.

Bottom.

Fabrics are from worn out pajamas, WafuWorks’ old Japanese cloth and a bit of failed contact prints. It was painful getting the needle through several layers, so I employed needle nose pliers. Marla has since ordered some jewelers pliers with Teflon grips.  This stone is only four inches across but feels heavy as I hold it in the non-stitching hand. But I do love the feel of these stones once they get their clothes on. I will pick another stone once I have decided all patches are on.

Hold on. I am going to get a glass of wine.

Much better.

I am listening to audio books as I draw, paint or stitch. Right now, at least the fifth book, is Robert Galbraith’s Troubled Blood. I like the main character, Cormoran Strike. J.K. Rowling does a good job with this male point of view. Seems most of the story is relayed via conversations. The reader does a wonderful job of getting all the necessary voices right for so many characters. I especially like when the male reader with their gruff male voice, can pull off the female voice. No, actually what I really like is being able to do something with my hands besides turn pages, and having someone read to me.

Patrick comes today to spend a week with me. He arrives about seven and we will enjoy a drink before a dinner of highly dressed baked potatoes. I was told broccoli, cheese, sour cream and bacon bits are good as toppers. We will likely spend several dinners out. A neighbor and I had a great sea scallops dinner the other night that we started with their new cocktail of expresso martini….a lovely creamy concoction with three coffee beans centered on top.

I decided to take the week off from the gym. chair yoga and tai chi this week. Patrick will be working remotely from here and I will stay with my drawing, painting, and stitching.

That’s about it for now….more after Patrick leaves this coming Saturday.

Til then….