Oh, Wait!

Posted on July 15, 2021 by hdh

Oh, Wait

“It’s time to leave for dinner,” my dad said. 

“Okay, I’m ready…Oh, just wait.” was her reply.

There was no need to rush, I thought. I’ve seen this act before, we’ve got a least half an hour before we will actually leave. Now it was wait time. What to do? 

There would be at least two more requests to leave, prior to Vesuvius erupting. I went back to my room looking for something to do. Maybe I could start watching a movie. You never know this could be a marathon. So what to watch? Let’s see.

“Heaven Can Wait” 1978 – Sounds good, but if you’ve seen “Here Comes Mr. Jordan” 1941 in your youth, who wants to watch a remake.

“Wait till Your Mother Gets Home” 1983 – That sounds possible. A good contrast to “Wait till my mother leaves home right now” which is happening live.

“We have to leave, now,” my father shouts. Ahh. getting close to Vesuvius time.

“I’m almost ready, just a minute… Oh, wait, ” was mom’s reply.

“I’ll Wait for you” is another 1941 film – Maybe my father should watch that one.

“Wait for Me in Heaven” 1988 – That’s impossible. I’ve already overheard that argument between them on who’s going to heaven and who’s going to hell. Don’t think there will be any waiting going on then. 

“Wait till the Sun Shines, Nellie” 1952 – Maybe that should be renamed Wait till the sun shines, mommy. More realistic to today’s scenario.

“That’s it, if you don’t come now, I’m leaving without you,” my father again. This is usually the precursor to Vesuvius.

“I’ll be there in one second…Oh, Wait!” mom’s retort.

“Wait for me in Another World” 2007 – Well if the heaven/hell thing doesn’t work there’s always that.

“Wait until Dark” 1967 – Well if the sun don’t shine then I guess that is the alternative.

The next thing I hear is the front door slamming. And there it goes – the volcano has erupted. Time for me to go outside with my dad and try to calm him down, knowing my mother will now appear within minutes. 

There was no discussion on the way to the restaurant. There rarely is.  And of course, when we got to the restaurant we had to wait about 20 minutes to be seated. Luckily, the food was good. As for me though I couldn’t wait to get home. I needed to watch one of my favorite movies. “About Time” 2013 –  though I wouldn’t want to be able to redo this experience. It never changes. 

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A Taste of Chocolate

Posted on July 12, 2021 by hdh

A Taste of Chocolate

My mother worked at Fanny Farmer’s chocolate factory when I was young. The factory itself was within walking distance of our house. My favorite activity when I was old enough (around 9 or 10) was to walk down to the factory and wait outside the exit door when her factory shift ended so that I could walk home with her. At least that is what I told her.

In reality, my real reason was to utilize all the cute little boy looks I’d been practicing. All of the female factory workers on my mother’s shift left at the same time as she did. The cuter I looked, the more likely I was to get an offering of chocolate from one of those workers as they left. My only hope was, “Please don’t let my mother be one of the first ones to leave,” for there would certainly be no chocolate coming from her. 

I’m not quite sure how all those workers managed to leave the factory with pilfered chocolate. My thought is that they were allowed to leave with pieces of chocolate that had imperfections that the owners did not want to put out to the public. Then again, they could have just taken some. Who’s going to miss a few chocolates from the assembly line. 

 I know when I was working at J. C. Penneys, as a stock boy, I couldn’t believe how much good merchandise was thrown out down the garbage chute just because they had slight imperfections in manufacturing. The Penneys’ management did this so that workers wouldn’t purposely mar items in the hopes that they could get to walk out of the store with a discounted item. If any of Penneys merchandise had a problem, it was destroyed. I guess as long as you’re not massively imperfecting chocolate, letting a worker walk away with a few pieces is within the range of acceptability. 

The trick to getting chocolate was not to pick up my mother every day. You had to spread out the cuteness, otherwise, you would become just a piece of ignored furniture to the regulars and free chocolate would never again be offered no matter how cute you looked. 

My mother only worked for Fanny Farmers for a few years, so my so-called free source of chocolate was now gone (as much as a “free” source of chocolate would be for an 9-year-old since I never actually paid for chocolate before or after she worked at Fanny Farmers). 

However, my love for chocolate never waned. Of course, my desire for chocolate and sweets at a young age added to other issues growing up…cavities. 

Which also led to my mother’s next occupation. She went into dentistry as a dental assistant. Needless to say, I didn’t pick my mother up from work for that. 

 

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The Game

Posted on July 11, 2021 by hdh

The Game

Tick, tick, tick, tick… the clock keeps ticking. All I can do is watch it. With my hands tied behind me, and my feet strapped to the chair I have nowhere to go, and time is running out. 

I never should have played this stupid game. Of course, it was Ronald, my friend I’ve known since elementary school, who said it would be fun. “You just pay your $100.00 and then you’re taken blindfolded to some location and all you have to do is be the first to find your way home.” 

What could go wrong? And Ronald would be with me, right? Wrong! Ronald neglected to tell me that each participant in this so-called game would be taken to a different location. They would then be tied up. And to add to all the fun, they would be gagged so that they couldn’t call for help. Once confined and restricted the blindfold at least was to be removed and they were left alone. The perpetrators of this event remained masked so as not to be identified. 

So here I sit. I assume if I just sit here, that someone eventually would come looking for me and I would be released. But then I hadn’t counted on the one other piece of the game that I hadn’t been told about. Placed in a bowl filled with, from the smell of it, gasoline, there was a candle that was lit and slowly melting. Now should that candle burn down to the level of the gasoline, the gasoline would ignite, leaving me helpless and probably burned alive as this room or cabin I’m in burns to the ground.

So here I sit. Or should I say here I…well let’s just say that my fear and anxiety have made my bowels release themselves. 

Though I can hear noises of automobiles outside this place that I’m stuck in. I need to calm myself and think. It was then I remembered my MacGyver jackknife that I always keep in my pocket. If I could only free one hand I might be able to get out. Think, Harvey, think. In movies, whenever someone is tied up they always rub their restrained wrists back and forth on whatever they’re tied to. So that’s what I decided to do.  My movement doesn’t fray the rope, as it does on TV but does eventually allow me to wriggle my right hand enough so that it slowly pushes free from the chair it was tied to. With that hand free, I’m able to reach into my pocket for the knife. Did you ever try to open a pocket knife with one hand? It’s not easy, but I manage to get it open so that I can cut the rest of the offending ropes that bind me. 

Of course, the door to escape is locked as I attempt to get out, the candle keeps burning lower and lower, and the clock continues to tick. And…wait a minute, it’s a candle, which means it can be blown out. When you’re stressed your mind can really forget simple things. 

Needless to say, I did eventually get out and find my way home. I was the last person to arrive back home.

“Wasn’t that great!” Ronald said when he finally saw me. 

“Yeah…no,” was my reply. 

With soiled pants, rope burns on my wrists, and a heart rate that felt like I was a thoroughbred competing in the Kentucky Derby. No, this was not a game that I would ever consider playing again. 

Hopefully, next time when Ronald comes up with an idea for a game to play, I won’t listen to him. Yeah…right!

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Off-Course

Posted on July 8, 2021 by hdh

Off-Course

I was banded in 2018, in a small town in Indiana. Learning the ropes was hard at first. My wings had feathered and I learned how to fly, however, remembering where my home base was located was complicated. Each time they let me go, I was further away from my starting point. There were all these different trees and houses. But Mother Earth was my guide. Her geomagnetic fields became more and more familiar. It was a lot easier during the summer as I could recognize some of the smells from my trainer’s garden as I got closer. As I got older, the daytime and nighttime skies with the sun and all their recognizable stars became my map. Even when I was left high in the mountains, I learned to navigate the mountain skies to find my way home.

But then that fateful day came. I was taken away. You can’t really see where you are being taken when you are put in a box. The trip was long, far longer than I have ever been left in this box. When I was released, I found myself where the ocean meets the sky. There are no oceans in Indiana, nor any other places nearby. Something was wrong. I had no idea where to go except not over the ocean. 

So I flew, and I flew, seeking out anything that seemed familiar. Even Mother Earth was conspiring against me. Her signals sent me everywhere. And I flew. Exhausted, I landed on a paved surface. I felt grounded, unable to think. 

It was then I was picked up. But I did not recognize the face. And again I was placed in a box and transported away once more. If I don’t finish my mission home, I will be labeled a failure. I will be of no use to my trainer. I’ve seen what happens to those who fail and it’s not pretty. 

This sanctuary is different. There are no demands on me, there is food, water, and shelter. I have faith in their ability to help me survive, even if I don’t make it back to Indiana. My parents may have given me roots, but this place has given me hope. Maybe my purpose is not to race, it is to survive and thrive. Only time will tell. 

—————

*Author’s note – This story is somewhat fictional, the racing (homing) pigeon however is not.  The pigeon was banded in 2018 somewhere in Indiana and recently found in the Boston area, over 900 miles away. Racing pigeons have been known to fly between 600-700 miles in a single day. 

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States of Being

Posted on July 1, 2021 by hdh

States of Being

I was exhausted and achy. After all the work that I had put into repairing this house in the woods, would it be worth it? 

The problem started when I got the letter. It was a threatening letter. The writer warned me that there would be dire consequences if I didn’t pay $500,000 to this bank in Switzerland. Who has $500,000 at their beck and call? And what were the dire consequences? 

I panicked. My anxiety rose one hundredfold. I couldn’t sleep due to the fear this letter caused. I tried distracting myself by watching TV. Have you seen what’s on the news each day? That certainly didn’t calm me down. I connected with my inner self, grounded myself, and took deep breaths.  All that did was make me hyperventilate and get more anxious.

That was when I decided to take whatever money I could gather and leave. I got in my car, gathered whatever tools I could find, and headed north to parts unknown. After hours of driving, I was relieved to find this spot here in the woods and this run-down old shack of a house. There was no one around.

I went into town, managed to find the land office, and discovered that that abandoned piece of land I had discovered was for sale and it was dirt cheap. So I put some money down with what I had. How I’m going to pay the rest of it, I’ll worry about some other day. 

I worked on the house, finding the scraps that I needed to repair what I could. I tried not to be distracted but focused on the task at hand. 

As of this moment I’ve made it liveable. It’s actually not that bad. I’m hopeful that this could be the solution to my problem. I still have an uneasy feeling that things might go wrong. Even though there is barely enough signal to get cell service, I am staying connected with the real world. Of course, I’m using a burner phone so that I can’t be traced. Wouldn’t want those seeking to extort to know where I am. 

I’m finally getting to relax a bit. I’m actually feeling a bit joyful that this happened. As to where I go next or what I should be doing with my life, I’m still kind of neutral. Time will tell.

Maybe being a card shark at that shady Vegas casino wasn’t the best profession for me to go into. 

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Stand Tall

Posted on June 28, 2021 by hdh

Stand Tall 

“Stand tall”, she says. “For you need to grow.”  

“Reach deep,” she adds. 

“For in the depths you will find your strength. Be one with us all,” she concludes.

For an old woman, Mother sure does talk a lot. But she is correct. I am small and weak, for I am new. I bend with every gust of wind that hits me. This is not strength. So I dig deep. I reach down as far as I can and drink from the waters that flow. From there, I get sustenance.

  I reach high into the sky and stretch and as the waters flow through my veins; the sun calls to me and I grow. 

There is much sound around me calling for me to exist and flourish.  The animals ask for their shelter. The hoot owls and other birds demand my protection and support. Yet, I am still small. So I dig deeper and reach higher.

As time passes, I grow. I fill out and become strong. I become one with all around me as do my brothers and sisters. And Mother continues to watch over us all.

She continues with her song of growth and beauty and I finally find the notes to harmonize with her and join in. 

I am not alone, there are more like me. We each branch out and touch the sky and share our bounty with each other. For it is our role to continue to safeguard this place. This place that others wish to save from the cruelty of the ignorant.

 It is our place on this planet to build and live in harmony. So we grow and share with all.

The rings of time follow me as I age and more and more of us become part of this expanse. 

With us comes hope. With us comes life. With us comes a future that we can all live in. For I am TREE. 

 

 

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An Eventful Night

Posted on June 22, 2021 by hdh

An Eventful Night

It was our last day of junior high school. All that was left was the commencement. It was the afternoon of the day before graduation and I was over at Ronald’s house with my friends, Dave and Jude. We were trying to decide how we should celebrate this momentous occasion. Only Jude was going to the high school that I was going to attend in September. Ronald and Dave were each going to different schools. 

Jude didn’t see it as such a momentous deal. He and I were just continuing to another school together. He did come up with an idea. It was to write a tontine. We would each put some money in a bank account under all of our names and let it sit there and grow interest until all but one of us was left alive and that person would get to cash in on all the money in the account. Since none of us had jobs, we didn’t think the amount of money that we could put in or would accrue would be worth it. 

Dave, ever the practical one, suggested that we go to our local luncheonette and celebrate with some chocolate egg creams. For those of you that are unfamiliar with a chocolate egg cream, it is a cold fountain drink consisting of milk, carbonated water, and chocolate-flavored syrup. Why it was called an egg cream is unknown to me as it does not contain either eggs nor cream. But it was definitely a special drink to have back in the Bronx. Being 14 years old, that was about the closest we would get to go out drinking at least for the next 4 years. 

Then there was Ronald. You might remember him from some of my other stories. Ronald and I had also been in the same class since back in kindergarten (as was Dave) and even though Ronald wasn’t going to my high school, we would remain friends. He had a plan. His thought was to leave an indelible mark on our junior high school before we left it. 

We eventually decided to go to the luncheonette for the egg creams, after which Jude and Dave went home. However, Ronald could not give up the idea of leaving something behind at our school. Though I was somewhat reticent about his idea, I decided to go along with him early that evening. 

Our junior high school was within walking distance of both our houses. This being the end of June, it stayed light outside pretty late and my parents were comfortable with me staying out late. Of course, they were unaware that I was going with Ronald. 

We arranged to meet under the overhang in the courtyard of our school. There was no one around. 

I have no idea how the window to the science lab got open, and I tried to convince Ronald that breaking into the school was not a wise choice, but somehow reason and logic were not going to be part of our evening’s activities, which tends to be the case whenever I’m involved in activities with Ronald. 

We got into the lab and Ronald told me to check the hall to see if there was anyone around. I cracked open the door and peeked, there wasn’t anyone as far as I could see, but I did hear a janitor working down another hall. 

As I carefully closed the door and turned back to Ronald he wasn’t there. But I could see a bunch of beakers and an assortment of chemicals sitting by the sink. Just then Ronald came out of the back closet and with some brushes. His plan was to create an indelible ink so that we could paint a message somewhere in the school that would live in perpetuity in the building. 

The only problem was that we didn’t have a recipe for the ink. My thoughts were water and food coloring. Ronald said not to worry, “How hard could it be to put together some ink?”

“Umm?” We were about to find out. 

I’m not sure what exactly Ronald put into the beaker but considering it included acid and a base and some powder that was purple, it certainly wasn’t something that we could write with. As a matter of fact, as soon as it started to erupt our only thought was to get out of there. 

Unfortunately for me, one of my sneakers fell off inside the lab as I was climbing out of the window. I would have gone back to get it, but between the eruption, the smell, and the door opening with the janitor rushing into the room, I chose not to. 

Explaining to my parents why I only came home with one shoe wasn’t going to be easy. Luckily for me, Ronald was willing to take the blame. Here’s the story we came up with:

Ronald and I were play-roughhousing when he got hold of my sneakers, tied them together, and threw them up over a telephone pole wire, where they hung. I’m sure you’ve all seen a pair of sneakers in such a predicament at some point in your life. Anyway, I chased Ronald to force him to get my sneakers down. When we both finally returned to the spot where he had thrown the sneakers to our surprise, they were no longer hanging from the wire, only one sneaker was found on the ground and the other one was gone. 

My parents, knowing Ronald, believed our story, I guess because nothing more was ever said about it. I had to work off the cost of a new pair of sneakers, and Ronald as usual got away scot-free. And of course, I was reminded again, that I needed to be more astute at picking friends. Quite an eventful night.

As to our graduation, it went off without a hitch. Nothing was mentioned about the Science Lab incident at school that day. We had to dress nicely for graduation, so any detective walking around looking for a student with only one sneaker on would have been disappointed. Since it would be the last time we were to be in our junior high school, I have no idea what became of my sneaker or if they ever figured out what really happened. Who knows, maybe my sneaker was the impetus for schools to install alarm systems.

I think I’ll leave that off of my resumé. 

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Shenanigans

Posted on June 17, 2021 by hdh

Shenanigans

When I got out of college I was all set to become a teacher. I had learned all the skills that I needed and was ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, the world was not quite ready to take on me. 

So there I was, having moved out of my parent’s apartment to live with a group of friends out on Long Island with my future still up in the air. 

Lucky for me, I got a job working at a major department store in Bayshore, which shall remain nameless. Just know that I saved up my Penneys so that I could pay the rent until a teaching job came along. I became a stock boy. Now stock boys worked behind the scenes, making sure that inventory was kept in order and when products were needed, could deliver those products to the floors that needed them. 

To some, being a stock boy was a boring job. Day in and day out you always did the same thing. You certainly

had little interaction with the shoppers and because of your casual appearance and job responsibilities, you were not supposed to be seen by the big wigs of the company, even though you did a lot of the grunt work.

I still wanted to be a teacher, so  I strived to be professional and hard-working. Well, maybe that’s a little bit of a falsehood. I was efficient as a worker and mostly did what I was asked to do, however, I was far from professional.

As a storyteller, I play with voices. Though I wasn’t a storyteller then, it seemed natural for me to play with voices as a boredom breaker. I used different voices all of the time. did silly things like speak into the intercom by the freight elevator on one floor which connected to a managers desk in the upstairs stock room and would crumple a piece of packing cellophane by the speaker and in my old man voice call out, “Fire in the hole” I would follow that with a spitting sound and then say, “No problem, it’s out.”  Whoever was up there knew it was me and ignored it. At one point my manager did call out my name. When I responded with “What?” in my normal voice, she said “Thanks”. On questioning her as to why she called my name, her response was, “I  just wanted to hear what you really sounded like.”

I do remember shinning down a garbage chute, which was about three-foot square, to jump on some boxes near the bottom to try and clear a jam, which I was unable to do, and then shinning my way up the chute for two floors, as the floor I started on was blocked by carts, only to the step out of the chute 4 stories up and appear in front of a company bigwig discussing with someone all the dangers of leaving the doors to the garbage chute open, after all, it was a three-story drop and someone could get hurt. I explained what I was doing and lucky for me I did not get fired. 

And never let me walk by a series of pull baby toys that when you pull the cord, it says something like “D is for Donkey”. I am sure to pull all the cords in succession. It is fun just listening to all of the things that can be said on those toys as they all go off as I walk by them. 

One of my colleagues and I did a routine once next to a large, open empty box. He would stand there and keep saying “26..26..26..26” until I walked by,  looked into the box, and asked, “26 what?” At which time he would push me and I would fall into the box completely as he started saying, “27..27..27”.

There was actually a time I did get onto the selling floor to help catch a parakeet that had gotten loose from the pet department. I ran around with a butterfly net and actually did catch the bird. The powers that be made sure that I was never let back on the selling floor again. 

I do remember my manager asking me once what degree I graduated college with. When I told her I was going to be a teacher, she just laughed. She could not believe anyone would ever hire me as a teacher. 

That was my foray into the world of business immediately after college. After working there for 6 months I did get a job as a teacher.

And the rest is history. I’m glad I got a chance to hone my skills prior to becoming an educator and molder of young minds.  One never knows what skills one will need. As I taught my students all through teaching…  “Nothing is boring unless you let it be.” And I can assure you, some of my students, as I had done, did plenty, not to be bored.

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Road Trip…

Posted on June 13, 2021 by hdh

Road trip…

The memory I have of that trip was that we were high in the mountains in the quaint village of Dasfort*. I was there with Christina. We had decided to take a week off from all our responsibilities and just get away, little knowing what we had in store. 

Christina was the one to plan the away trip, as she usually is. I was the one that was to make sure we had enough gas and had all of the directions both printed and programmed into our GPS.

We went through our usual rush to make sure everything was packed up and all was set up and secure at home and we left early on that Tuesday morning.

The trip up to Dasfort was somewhat uneventful, though it took a lot longer than we had planned. All there was to note was a very rough sea on the ferry and having to change a flat tire along the way. All par for the course for any trip we take. 

We got to our inn which was somewhat secluded from the rest of the village and checked in. Our room was not exactly what we expected. Yes, it was a one-bedroom suite. I guess the definition of suite in Dasfort is a loosely defined one. There was one window, which was permanently locked, the bedroom itself was aptly named, as all that could fit in there was a bed. There was an air conditioner in the room built into the wall, which worked, though it was rather noisy. Needless to say, during our stay, we spent very little time in our room.

The village was nice. It had a yarn shop so that Christina could buy lots of yarn to add to her collection for present and future knitting projects. It also had a small, but well-stocked electronics store, not that I needed anything else to add to my collection. 

The village general store provided many other materials we needed. There were a number of restaurants that all provided exquisite meals. And then of course there was the ice cream parlor. This was not to be missed as it had the best homemade chocolate swirl ice cream I have ever had. We visited this establishment multiple times during our stay. We were not going to lose weight on this trip.

Each day we went on hikes into the mountains, on trails that were differently rated for endurance. This was good, as we always found ones that we could manage. The views were amazing, very picturesque, and photo-worthy.

At night when the stars came out, it was astounding. With no street lights, you got to see thousands of stars when the sky was clear. At least it was for that one clear night. We even got to see some shooting stars. 

Everything was great. We were able to leave all our work and responsibilities behind and enjoy time together relaxing in a relatively stress-free environment. 

We decided to take a different route home to admire the scenery, which we did. This time it only cost us a new car battery and being locked out of our car once. 

The ferry ride home was actually calm. We were both sad and glad to get home, there’s just so much relaxing you can do before that little bit of worry creeps back in your head about work and home. 

Of course, as soon as we got home we noticed that we had forgotten to lock the back door before leaving on this trip. Luckily nothing was missing; at least not that we’ve discovered yet.

—————-

* Dasfort is not a real place.

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Strawberry Picking

Posted on June 10, 2021 by hdh

Strawberry picking 

It should have been easy to pick the strawberries. It was a nice cool, late Spring day. The field was practically empty and my favorite spot, which was somewhat away from where everyone else goes, was awaiting my arrival. 

I meandered through the fields until I got to the place where I usually pick. What’s nice about this spot is that it is very secluded. Once there, no one else can see you pick. And since it is a bit of a walk from the start of the fields, no one bothers to go that far. 

There in front of me were those luscious strawberries. Each plant covered with large berries asking to be picked. It didn’t take me long to fill my first basket, It wasn’t until I bent to start the next one that I saw it. 

It was red, plump, and looked almost like the perfect sweet berry, but on closer examination, I recoiled in horror, for it was not a berry at all, It was a toe. A very red and certainly unattached toe. I stifled a scream and dropped my basket and ran towards the start of the field to the check-out stand. 

“I..I…I found a toe out in the field,” I screamed at the attendant at the stand. 

“I’m sorry sir,” she replied, “if you need a tow then you will have to call for one yourself, we have no phones here. And besides, you are not allowed to drive your car into the fields.”

“No, you misunderstand,” I ranted, “A toe, I found a human toe covered in blood, back on the picking fields.”

“Yeah, right,” was her reply, “Maybe you should get someone to drive you home.  Next customer please.”

I didn’t know what to do so I decided to go back to where my picking spot was and get the toe and bring it back to show her. When I got to the spot where I had stopped picking, my full basket of strawberries was gone, as was the aforementioned toe. I looked everywhere. 

I was heading back to the stand to demand that the police be called when I heard the giggle. If you recall, I said that I chose this spot because it was hidden away where other people couldn’t see me. Well, that worked both ways as I couldn’t see other people either. And I recognized the laugh.

“Ronald, I know it’s you, come out and show yourself.”

It was my friend Ronald, you may have heard about him before. He is always doing things that get me in hot water. Had I gone and called the police, I certainly would have been. 

Next time I go strawberry picking, I plan on going with the crowd at the regular, crowded spot. At least there when I find any body parts there will be others there to witness it. 

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