Monday, August 24, 2015

Self pity

Why write about it? Who gives a shit about your woes, your mental and physical fatigue? Nobody.  He didn't like to read or hear other people's tales of woe or the things that get them down, so why would he think anyone would want to hear his?
The problem, he surmised, was his own.  He was acutely diligent in his writing, postings to Facebook, and blog to be upbeat and positive. He told himself that he tried to bring a smile to people's faces, to lighten their load for a moment, or longer.  But today he faced the truth; he did it all, not for them, but for himself.  He ways always seeking approval, accolades to prove his worth. His Facebook posts, blog essays, interactions with his patients and co-workers were meant to bring him good feelings.  Those times when the feedback was negative it hit him like the stab of a stingray. His hackles would rise in he would rebut furiously.

This week he noted a dramatic decline to zero, or nearly so, in his Facebook "likes" and favorable comments. Not that the ten or twenty likes were a majority of his 460 "friends," but enough to keep him coming back to the page incessantly for some little boost to his ego. Someone, not so insecure, might put this off to "Facebook fatigue."  But he took it as a personal affront.

It got him to thinking, for the first time in a lifelong career of caring for the sick and wounded, what's the use?  He never thought, in 52 years, that the time would come when he no longer looked forward to going to work.  Today that day arrived.  Mentally and physically fatigued, he thought; it's time to walk away from the head of the bed.

He never wanted to get to the point where he wouldn't give a hundred percent, when "they" would say, "it's time to give it up, retire." "They haven't,but he has. 

So, what's next? he thought; sit on the deck, smoke a cigar or two, drink a beer or gin and tonic and wait for the grim reaper?  Maybe, maybe, why not self-indulge, and fuck the rest.

Why not?

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Random thoughts



Random thoughts;
George Bush waged war on Iraq.
Barack Obama waged war on America.

Many immigrants are in America illegally....
America has always been a land founded by and populated by immigrants.


Our law-makers have created so many laws that the majority of Americans are law breakers; more or less.

The heat of this July day is preferable to the cold of February.

It's a dogs world.
Cats come in second.

I read books.
And write about reading.

I like George Carlin.
I dislike Donald Trump.

I never like math.
Common core makes me like it less.

I like trees, water; rivers, streams, lakes and oceans, birds, rabbits, deer, foxes, and wild life in general. Also flowers, vegetable gardens and grass. I like blue sky, red sunsets, greenery, yellow sun, brown skin, and purple anything.

 People? The jury is still out.

I dislike anger, yelling, bellicose buffoons, liars, politicians, rude crass vulgar language, war, bullying, religious zealots, media shit-pot stirrers, megalomaniac bosses, purveyors of child pornography, charlatans and their patent medicines, murderers, rapists, and/or anyone who promotes discord.

I'd like to teach the world to sing; they say that I'm a dreamer, Imagine.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Guilty pleasure



Everyday, in the early afternoon
I become a sinner.
Guilty pleasure.
Blind myself from recrimination,
Unseen, unseeing;
Indulging sets my spirit free.
I take you in,
You course through me 
Make yourself known
To every dendrite.
Unlocked, my imagination soars.
Each exhalation, slow exhilaration.
My enemy, my friend;
My Ava gardener.
I'm 150 years old;

“I wish to live to 150 years old, but the day I die, I wish it to be with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.”

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Doldrums

He didn't have to ask, he knew where to find it; he grew up there, on the corner of Cockamamie St. and Gilhoolie Dr.. The ramshackle shed beckoned, for yet another time.
Inside he found an old candy counter rescued, from Aunt Nell's Confectionary, before it was demolished by "Urban Renewal." By it's lonesome, under the glass sat a newspaper wrapped packet, dusty and faded.
Blowing and wiping, gently, the dust away He saw a date on the paper; 1866. unwrapping the newsprint he found inside just what he knew would be there; a packet labeled: Doldrums.
A convenience store was, just down the street, on the way back to his room. To go with the packet of doldrums he purchased a cigar and a fifth of gin. .....
 
 
Google photo
 

Friday, July 17, 2015

Peaceful co-existence

It's a sunny day at the river's edge. A brisk wind from the north, a skosh too cool, makes sitting in the sun imperative; especially if sitting quietly, reading a book.  As the shade from the cedars crept further and further, finally, covering the entire table at which I was sitting, reading, I decided to move to a warmer place; back out of the wind and again in the sun.  The break prompted me to detour into the cottage to fix myself a sandwich, pepper jack cheese on wholewheat rounds, slathered with spicy mustard, and take it with me to my sunny perch.  Basking, gnoshing, reading, movement in my peripheral vision distracts my attention to a scampering, hopping chipmunk scurrying past, within inches of my left foot.  This cute little critter made the back and forth trip numerous times, stopping one time, 2 inches from the side of my foot, to look up and stare into my eyes, as if to say in his best chipmunk ,Oliver Twist, voice; please, sir, could you share a morsel, if you please?  I spoke to him in my gentlest voice; "I'm sorry pal, you've come late to the table, and I've not a crumb left to share."

Reflecting on this encounter, I'm reminded at how many wild-life creatures come and co-reside with us here on our small patch of Mother Earth, for a season. With amazing frequency we see: birds: crows, robins, waxwings,sparrows, chickadees, grackles, sea-gulls, terns, cormorants, osprey, blue heron, tree heron, king fisher, and loons.  Some of these visitors are attracted to the feeder kept supplied with easy forage.  As well, furry creatures abound: rabbits, mink, ground-hogs, deer, fox, raccoons (not yet this season,) chipmunks, and meadow moles.

As the years pile up in memory lane, it seems to me, that these inhabitants have become less timid, in some cases actually friendly.

Let's not ignore some of the pesky biters: mosquitoes, red cedar mites, and spiders.

It all adds up to a pleasant R&R close to home.

Friday, July 10, 2015

Summertime; a week in July on the shore of the St. Lawrence River

I'm a spontaneous planner rather than a long range planner.  My wife is the long range planner, she's good at it, for which I'm grateful.
Waiting too long to submit my request for summer vacation, I was left with only 4 work days, if I wanted time off in July, available to me.  To be fair, there were bonafied reasons for my procrastination this time,  (aren't there always?), but still......  The last of those 4 days is today and you couldn't have picked more perfect days for a summer vacation; one hot humid day, the rest comfortably warm, low humidity days, cool nights for sleeping, placid river water with frequent ship traffic, time to enjoy family and slow the passage of time by drinking in every second of nature's offerings.

My favorite time is morning.  I arise with  my friends, the avian denizens of the neighborhood, calling to me from just outside my bedroom window.  As the eastern glow brings color to the river, the crows strut and caw, surveying the neighborhood and peruse the feeder. Rabbits, squirrels, red and grey alike, field mice, each in their turn, hop, trot, and scamper across the front lawn searching for sustenance.  The hammock swing hangs still in the cedar tree, waiting to cuddle a visitor wanting a moment of quiet reflection.  The empty bench on dock's end stands sentinel, waiting to greet down bound lakers heading for port, in Montreal perhaps.  A hot cup of freshly brewed coffee, a pen and journal starts my day.

Later, as the sun climbs higher in the morning sky, I'll be greeted by my wife, first to follow me to awakeville. Over the course of the next hour or so the grand daughters will venture, sleepy-eyed into the common area to slowly creep to full wakefulness, mutter reluctant good mornings, and make their way to the water closet for morning ablutions.

Soon the smells of breakfast cooking fill the camp; oatmeal simmering, bacon sizzling , eggs boiling, and bread browning under the broiler combine to provoke salivary glands to activate.

Then the planning starts.  But serendipity lurks at every turn, and that my friends is what summer vacation is all about.

Speaking of serendipity; the week following my "4 days" opened up unexpectedly allowing me to take the adjacent week.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

graduating 4th grade

Graduating from 4th grade; is it a big deal? Well if you're a 4th grader, it probably is. Perhaps not, but I remember "moving up" to fifth grade. Miss Murphy was my 4th grade teacher at Washington school, and I liked her. I was torn; I wanted to stay in her class but I wanted to go into 5th grade because it meant another move toward growing up. On the other hand, miss Murphy was a plump, warm, caring, giving lady, while the 5th grade teacher was a grumpy, frumpy old lady w...ith bad breath. (I've forgotten her name.). She did, however, feed my hunger for reading and language; giving me books to read, way above the average reading level. I didn't have a choice, of course, but it was the first Time I remember weighing, in my thoughts, the processing of moving on. So yes, I think moving up from 4th to 5th grade is a big deal, especially for a 9/10 year old.