Friday, August 27, 2010

Boop De Do De - DA DA

“Know where the FedEx place is?” The Boss asked off handedly.

“There are fifteen in town, which one?” (Actually about 3, maybe 4)

“Well, I need to pick up something. They tried to deliver it and we weren’t home.”

“What wuz it?”


Two things here. (I have learned to read between a few lines over the last fortyumpteen years.) Well kinda one, with a couple of subplots. It was something that we didn’t really need or it was a surprise for me, which I probably didn’t need because I have about everything I need already.

“Why can’t we wait ‘till tomorrow?”

“Cause, I said.”

“Well then, I guess that settles it.” It is usually settled before I get to put in my suggestions anyhow. Reckon?

A couple of clicks on The Boss’s I-Phone and we had the correct location in the crosshairs. Only waiting an unreasonable period of time, we were handed a cardboard box with a label that had more inscription than the Magna Carta, but we were off. One step outside the door the boss handed me the box.

“Here, happy birthday.”

“It ain’t my birthday yet.”

“If you don’t take this, you may not make it.”

I gingerly took the box and saw the word Apple on the label in various places. I will have to admit, I sorta, kinda figured out what was in the box. I was, for real, excited. I opened the box and inside was a special edition, candy apple red I-Pod with my name inscribed on the back. I was, for real, excited. I know I said that already. I am really hard to buy for, according to my girls and The Boss, but this hit the target. I wore out a Zune so this was a great surprise. I don’t download a lot of songs, but I am a big fan of podcasts and especially old radio shows. Mysteries and Orson Wells classics are great to listen to. I have found that by listening to these old programs, it can generate ideas for writing and scene setting. Some are pretty “hooky pooky”, but fun just the same. There are several websites that offer these to download for free or a donation of some amount.

Another new adventure came in the form of a credit card looking piece of plastic. It was what ya’ll already know about as an I-Tune card. I actually learned how to “redeem” its value and trade it for real music. Now ain’t that somethin’? I am still a traditionalist and I like to have the CD or album on hand, but this does seem pretty easy. During my first year of school we had what we called and “assembly program”. The student body had the opportunity to watch a movie in the auditorium. The movie starred Jimmy Stewart in “The Glenn Miller Story”. Even today if it comes on TV I am glued to watching it again.

One day last week I was wrestling with a bunch of junk at the office and I took a break and ordered some Glenn Miller tunes with that I-tune bunch of folks. Now that is “slicker that greased owl…”, well never mind, but it was easy. In a matter of not time, I was tapping my foot and in a much better mood. Those songs never get old to me. You might not have the tune handy so I went out on the YouTube and found this old clip from the real Glenn Miller and if you have a few minutes give it a listen. I bet you can help yourself from tapping your foot and singing along.

Boop De Doo De Daa Daa

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Texas Tea,, or Yummm

As a writing exercise, i have expanded on the "One Minute Writer" blog's idea. (please visit that site).  Look close at hand and pick an object and use a 7 minute span to write a short essay.  The few extra minutes, to me, seems to help relax the experiment.  It was hot and I stopped in at Star Bucks, and,,,,,,

Texas humidity and ice cold tea: Quite a recipe. Unsweetened, to me, is preferred. I suppose I am a traditionalist in a sense. I don’t think most things need a lot of “phizzazz” added in order for their true nature to be appreciated.

A classic smooth crystal glass holding just the right of amount of pure, clean perfectly formed ice cubes; hidden from the heat, but condensing vapors, a hint of treasure. Golden chestnut color liquid cascading down over the dancing heat diffusers, creates a minute stirring of the ingredients. Light rays expose tiny ripples of current, changes in the mixed ingredients slowly realigning their positions. Tiny molecules of moisture attach themselves to the outer layer of the shimmering crystal container and as if holding hands grab each other, growing into larger droplets of atmospheric droplets. Weight finally pulls them into miniature streams of sweat devouring the shell of the mixture’s universe. Only at the right moment can the experience of the mixture be realized. Small sips, each being wholly appreciated and then, only then, can the enjoyment be shared.

The amazing thing about iced tea is that a true tea drinker never tires of the experience. He always looks forward to the next “refreshing”, visualizing in his imagination, the previous wonderment of quenching and awaiting his next thirst.

Monday, August 16, 2010

In A Bit....

There is nothing like the glowing warmth of a campfire. Snapping and popping, the oak logs piled high with the yellow and orange flames squirting upward through the tightly stacked cracks from the bark still on the wooden fuel.

Too large to be intended for the fire, cut sections of trees    served as resting stools for more than one annual trip to the familiar river bottom. Without confirmation, each has in intended occupant. Time has a way of etching routine without formality. The unceremonious act of who takes their place in cadence is stamped in time.

It seems one always has “one more thing” to sort out and put in its place. The last to take his place in line. The last to turn out the lantern. Beyond the reach of the campfires shine clattering of assorted gear indicates the restlessness. All, except this one, have gathered at their appointed places amongst the bark covered thrones.

“What are you doing out there? You gonna come on or what? We ain’t gonna wait all night.”

The strings are tuned and the whistles are wet. We wait momentarily.

“Well, are ya coming?”

From the darkness and damp, with clarity comes a chuckle and reply.

“In a bit, perhaps, you old codger, In a bit.”

The usual banter and ribbing of “always late” and “it’s gonna be daylight soon" offers a familiarity to the situation. We know we are going to have to wait. A round with flask and a dirge of song pushes the hour past.

The shifting of logs and flicker of flame, upward the embers struggle to rise. The glow still strong but not quite as bright, the warmth still surrounds us all. The sweetgum stump, awaits in quiet with sounds from just beyond. It seems the clatter is not intense as it was some time earlier.

“The music is old and bellies are full, if you’re coming on, then ya gonna have to do it soon. Not sure of the duration with this routine of fun.”

A chorus of laughter votes in favor of wit, but certainty not at all certain. Waiting for a reply I sit suddenly quiet as I listen for anticipated answer.

“In a bit, perhaps, when I finish. In a bit.”

The campfire out, the reminding ashes, what’s left of the mighty oak, a reminder that dawn is near. The river fog cloaks the forest near and water still between the banks flows. The cold ashes swirl about and, with a grin, I answer the wind’s invitation ; “are you coming”.

“In a bit, perhaps, you old codger, In a bit.”


Monday, August 9, 2010

"Todlums" aka Carlus Wayne Morgan

If any of you read the "Boat Fishing Story"...... you know "Todlums"

When I first started blogging, I wrote this for "Sixty second Writer", but never put it on my blog. Well, here it is.....

The prompt "Trust"

Reminiscing is a common past time when the beard turns gray and “The Bark of The Dogwoods” becomes brittle and shallow. Old men sometimes tire of playing checkers and other highly active games and they resort to other less strenuous exercises such as games of “Remember When”.

“ Bet I got something of yore’n that you have forgotten about”.

Smoke curled from his freshly lit corncob pipe. It was bobbing up and down. He kinda looked like Popeye except he didn’t have the massive ham hock forearms. I swiveled around on my stool and looked around the barn trying to see what might be out of place or missing. Hell, who could tell anyways? It had been longer than yesterday since I had straightened up the sundry of tools that I had collected over the past forty some odd years.

“Hell, I don’t know”. “You better not drag this out too long, we both are on borrowed time and best I remember you’re older than me”

Somehow we both thought that was funny. Hearty laughter just seems to make the joints move a little smoother.

“Need any money”? The growl sounded more like a a directive than a question.

“Nope, still got some beer in the fridge”

He slowly fished around in the back pocket of his old overalls and fished out his old weather worn wallet. He had his head all crook-ed and sideways. His eyes all squenced shut from the over abundance of smoke. He finally fumbled around until he pulled out of stack of folded receipts and other junk. He shuffled them around until he pulled out a folded piece of currency.

“Yonta take a peek at that”? Still another directive.

I unfolded the wrinkled bill and recognized it to be a two dollar bill. Instantly my smile could no longer be suppressed. I guess the smoke was in my eyes too.

“I don’t need it yet”, I replied as I gently handed it back to him.

“Didja thank that I had lost it”?


“Well that day while we were out at the old Sinclair plant a dranking hot beer, you handed me that two dollar bill and told me to hold onto it ‘till you might need it so if you don’t need it, I figure you trust me to hold onto it ‘till you do”
Today nineteen sixty seven doesn’t seem like such a long time ago.I spit on the ground and finally spoke again,

“ Give me another beer and put that danged ole pipe out, that smoke is making my eyes water".

July 24, 1949 - August 9, 2010

June 6, 2009 2:05 PM