Archive for May, 2016

REBA REBA GREEN CAT
May 16, 2016

Reba Reba green cat

You sit by the garden wall

And watch the going’s on out there like a fur ball thin and tall.

You’re just a grown up kitten

With a mom you never knew

To teach you how to hunt and stalk and slither through the dew.

Morning dew refreshes

Evening dew depletes

But another morning follows and another day repeats.

You scamper up a tree trunk and leap from branch to branch

You’re like a ballerina preparing for a dance.

You mingle with the green leaves

You tingle with delight

You sparkle with the sunlight

Your eyes are green and bright.

You really are a real cat

You dare defy the law

You’ll never be a house cat

So what do you think of that?

 

 

 

THE ATTACK
May 7, 2016

Some stories must be told. Though some people would rather not hear them.

There’s a school of thought:  if you don’t talk about ‘bad stuff’ it’ll  vanish. Trust me, it won’t. A time comes when one must face the truth. Particularly when it smacks you in the eye with a sharp stick.

True stories, like this one, aren’t meant to vilify. Nor  endorse fear. They’re  a means  to understand.  The rage, the violence, the hate that brews inside the flesh, the mind, the  core of man,  can erupt  any time.  And, until it happens to you, you haven’t a clue  the trauma it can create.

Yesterday was a lovely day. Sunny.   Pleasant to the senses.  Birds sang, A  perfumed breeze blew, it caressed my check. Traffic on my narrow two lane road was serene. My little gray Yuris was happy as a saddle horse on a morning ride  through Central Park. I dropped  mail off at a neighbors box, crossed the one lane bridge, and braked at the  sign at the top of the  hill. I  signaled to turn right.

Suddenly, from the left, a four door gray sedan whipped’round  a sharp corner and stopped within inches,  as far as I could tell, from my driver’s side door. Had it hit me, my little car would have flipped. To my left I was looking through the front window of the car. I  gasped, tried to grin–stuff happens– and  gestured  the driver, a blank countenance behind the windshield a few feet away and opened my palm to  gesture  he back so I could safely traverse a right  and continue on my way.

Thus began  an incident so surreal, I’m still shaken thinking about it.

The driver shook his head, so I gestured again. The  head shook ‘no’ and a woman–she spoke–jumped out  her side  and shouted, “It’s  your fault. You’re over the double line.”  She  crawled back inside. The driver, obviously a man, had  nearly collided with me. I wasn’t able to judge the distance between the cars so when the driver rolled down his window I asked, politely, “Back up, please.”

With that he jumped out of his car, loomed large outside my window breathing down on me.  Then,  thrusting his fist through my open window, grabbed the steering wheel.

What saved me was a car with three passengers–I think I counted– one tall young man came immediately to my aid, “Are you okay?” I shook my head.

Another young man spoke to the driver, suggesting he  back. This one  came to my window and  stood between me and the driver. He helped me navigate the corner. “Have a good day,” the tall one  said. “You, too, ” I replied. Behind us the driver, in the middle of the road,  was screaming obscenities.

I want to thank the young men.  Hope their day was good.

My  bad trip was balanced with three good ones. That’s Kauai.

But I don’t know what to make of it. Do you?

 

 

 

ER
May 2, 2016

“…and then I went to church.”

“That’ll be the day.”

” What I did was even worse.”

“Worse than going to church?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” my guest sipped his beer and stretched his legs. “This is gonna be  a long one.”

“Well, I have this book…”

“This book? You can’t sit down around here without landing on one.”

“It’s a cocktail table book. Most people don’t sit on cocktail tables,” I sniffed. “It’s called Luxury Equestrian Design and I keep it around to remind me what a peasant I am.”

“You can say that again.”

“It’s so classy the pages aren’t even numbered.  But on page 34–I counted–there’s a picture of Seattle Slew’s grave.”

“Triple Crown. Earned $1,207,726.”

“All you think about is money. He was a People’s Horse. And he’s buried whole, just like Ari, at Hill ‘n’ Dale Farm in Kentucky.”

“So?”

“,,,so his grave is so enormous and so blazingly alive with blossoms and color and grace and style it takes your breathe away. He was a year younger than Ari and, like him, died in his sleep. He’s buried in his favorite green blanket with a little bag of peppermints he loved. Ari didn’t wear a blanket but he’s off to the Happy Hunting Ground with a whole bottle of  Cornflake Butter Crunch Cookies. Maybe when they meet, which I’m sure they will, they’ll share.”

My friend slurped. “And?”

“And,” I replied, “if Seattle Slew can be so honored and beloved, I mean if it’s  good enough for him, it’s good enough for Ari. So I set out to make his grave as rich and gorgeous. I bought plants, I bought gloves, I bought doohickey  gardening tools  from a garden center–I even bought new gardening shoes–and raced off on a new path.”

“And?”

“…and the shoes put a blister on my foot and it rained and my shoes got wet and my foot got infected and at one o’clock in the morning I set off for Wilcox. I think I was in shock. The wound was open and red and sore and swollen and feverish and a little red line was running up my leg.”

“Skip the gory details, but whatever happened to the little old miss self- healer- squealer?”

“Healer- squealer shuffle dealer,  I  don’t play around with tetanus and blood poisoning. No way. But know what?”

“What?”

“Turned into such a pleasant surprise. I  couldn’t’ve met a nicer bunch of people. The lady who signed me in. The darling male nurse with the pony tail who listened patiently to my tale of woe. The doctor, a neighbor, who had much compassion. The lady nurse who gave me two of the most painless shots I’ve ever had. I went home happy.  With a prescription  I won’t fill. Met a  pharmacist  who talked me out of filling it. I’m in the process of healing myself. So hahaha…

…but let me tell you something, if you’re ever in trouble and need an ER go to Wilcox.”