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It’s Time The Tale Were Told.

Author: July 27, 2024 6 Comments

Source: Facebook

What’s the most memorable way someone has ever asked you out?

This is not a request for suggestions—I’m very happy with my wife and have no interest in anything other than friendship with anyone else. I’m curious because something came up recently that reminded me of the most creative way someone has ever asked me out. It was before I met my wife. I was in college and the person and I knew each other—I thought there was something there but was afraid to make the first move. They were out of town one weekend and left me their dorm key so I could feed their fish. I went in and there was a note on the stereo that said “Play Me”.

There was a cassette in the stereo—showing my age, I know—cued up to “Reel Around The Fountain” by The Smiths.

This was, as I said, the most creative way someone has ever asked me out, not the best way. I was an English major so of course I had to analyze every single line of the song. I thought I understood “Fifteen minutes with you/Well, I wouldn’t say no” but did they want me to slap them on the patio? And was that a euphemism? I pretty well understood, though, once it got to this verse:

I dreamt about you last night
And I fell out of bed twice
You can pin and mount me like a butterfly
But, “Take me to the haven of your bed”
Was something that you never said

Still not the best way to ask me out. Someone who really wanted to woo me would use a Kinks song—but not anything from Give The People What They Want. It’s a great album, one of my favorites. It’s just not one for setting the mood; the song “Destroyer” pretty well sums up some of my romantic experiences, but that’s another story.

Most happy memories are tinged with sadness, including this one. I has happier having forgotten it, honestly, and will be happy to forget it again until something reminds me of it. Listening to “Reel Around The Fountain” that first time, though, while feeding a crimson betta fish, was and always will be pure happiness. I don’t know if the person I’ve been writing about here will ever read this. I’m not going looking, but I will say this: in spite of how badly things went we did have a very happy fifteen minutes and I hope you’re happy now.  

Oh, people see no worth in you
I do
Oh, I do

American Graffiti.

Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

Author: July 26, 2024 4 Comments

One day the rain just stops. A day goes by, a few days, then a week, then more weeks. You notice that the grass is getting brittle and dry and the ground is rock hard. Then the grass turns the color of sand and even the air seems brittle with the dryness of it. The weather reports become numbingly uniform: sunny every day. Reports of record-breaking temperatures become repetitive. Something in the back of your mind says that this is wrong, but the heat saps any energy you might have for thinking about it.

On your way home from work each night you start counting the number of neighbors who are watering their yards, the ones who stand out because their grass is a patch of emerald in a sea of buff and sepia. You get wicked ideas about sneaking into their yards and cutting their hoses with a pair of garden shears in the middle of the night. Maybe they’ll pay a fine for using so much water.

Maybe you should think about xeriscaping, but this isn’t the desert. The rain will come back eventually, won’t it?

Desiccated tree branches fall in the yard. No need to move them just yet. The lawnmower sits in the garage, its small reservoir of fuel sending out a slow stream of fumes.

One morning you notice a spider hanging in her web next to your house. She’s brown and white speckled with big yellow dots on her abdomen. You saw her early in the spring, just like you watched her mother, her grandmother, and a whole line of her great-grandmothers going back several years. She clambers around, connecting the spokes of her web.

The lack of rain affects everything up and down the food chain, and you haven’t seen as many rabbits, snakes, or even squirrels as usual. This spider, like you, is not native to North America; her ancestors probably came with yours, around three centuries ago. She’s nocturnal so it’s strange that she’s still out on a sunny morning when the temperature is already higher than it would be at noon in a normal year.

You fill a birdbath in the backyard. You fill another in the front yard. You watch cardinals, bluejays, even a sleek-headed crow dip their beaks in it. You watch squirrels come to drink then flip the birdbath over. It’s only a few minutes before you go to put it back and refill it but the ground is already dry.

You have a side bed of morning glories and other small plants. After the sun goes down you turn the nozzle on the hose to “mist” and you realize you can’t remember the last time you heard a tree frog. They always sing in the dark after it rains.

Leaves turn brown and fall even though it’s only late summer. A seven-foot branch falls from a tree. The broken end is reddish, dry, and dusty.

Wildfires, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, and even tsunamis are all horrible, often tragic events that come in suddenly, sometimes with no warning, or not enough warning, but then they disappear, often as quickly as they came. Floods and tsunamis recede, wildfires burn out all their fuel or, hopefully, are stopped, and tornadoes just spin themselves out.

A drought is a tragedy in slow motion.

And then one day it rains. It rains and rains, and it’s like a fever breaking. There’s a puddle that frames clouds bronzed with sun, and it looks deep enough to be a whole new world.

Nature Talks., The Vault, The Weekly Essay

Something To Think About.

Author: July 23, 2024 4 Comments

Call it being in the right place at the right time, for me anyway. I happened to look out the window of an otherwise empty conference room and saw these guys helping their partner out of a tight spot in the parking lot.

Then they were left in a difficult position with no one to help them out.

Fortunately the driver of the gray car came right out—I guess he was just getting donuts to go and not sticking around. This is understandable. Some places are conducive to thinking—I was in the conference room because I wanted a quiet place to write during my lunch break—and some aren’t. Once the gray car was gone the workers were able to leave without any trouble.

Then this happened. Who designed this parking lot, anyway?

Adventures In Busing.

I Really Shouldn’t Be Doing This.

Author: July 19, 2024 4 Comments

The scene: under a large red sign reading THE INFERNO a shadowy figure holds a telephone receiver…

-Hell-hello, is this Gabriel?

-Hi Gabe, it’s Bill from downstairs. How’s it going up there?

-I said it’s Bill. From downstairs.

-Zeebub.

-That’s right. Yes, it has been a long time. Listen, Gabe, the reason I’m calling is, well, you know how in the old days when we were still sorting out who went where and we talked about the possibility of a mixup? When you look at the numbers and now long we’ve been doing this it’s amazing we haven’t had any. I mean, just the law of averages…

-Well, Gabe, what I’m getting at is it looks like it finally happened. You know, somebody who got sent to the wrong place. See, there’s a guy who just arrived named Bob Newhart…

-Sure, I’ll give you a minute to check your list.

-Did you just say “I’ll be damned if I can find anything”?

-No, I won’t tell anyone you said that.

-Well, is there anyone up there you can ask?

-No, I’m not trying to get you in trouble. You know, I hate pulling door duty too. That’s why we’ve got to look out for each other.

-Well, listen, this guy may not be on your list, but I can’t figure out why he’s down here. He’s a family man, always lived a pretty clean life. I mean, yes, he was a comedian.

-What’s that? No, he’s Catholic.

-Yes, I know, you hear ‘comedian’ you automatically think they’re…

-Sure, Gabe, I know, you don’t discriminate. We don’t either.

-Yes, I remember you took Don Rickles when he arrived. We were grateful too, Gabe. We really didn’t want him either.

-No, I won’t tell anyone you laughed at that. You know, Gabe, it’s a funny thing, some people show up here and they’re surprised we’re not more restricted. I mean, you’d think they’d know we’ve got a pretty open door policy. And you and I can both say we’ve got people dying to get in.

-No, I won’t tell anyone you laughed at that.

-What’s that, Gabe?

-No, most of his act was pretty clean. He did these, well, these monologues, like one where he was a bus driving instructor and showing the new drivers how to close the door right in a passenger’s face.

-No, I won’t tell anyone you laughed at that.

-Well, he started out in radio, and then he worked nightclubs. He did pretty well, too. He even had a couple of his own TV shows.

-Television.

-Yes, that “new thing all the kids are talking about”.

-Well, in one he played a psychiatrist in Chicago and he mostly played straight man to a bunch of wacky characters, and in the other one he played an inn owner in Vermont and a writer and he mostly played straight man to a bunch of wacky characters. The second one ended…well, let’s just say you should really watch both.

-Did he what? Did he do anything else? Well, I’ve checked the records and before he started doing comedy he did some work in accounting.

-Oh, that’s it. Okay. That’s why he’s down here.

-Yes, Gabe, that does make sense. Thanks for helping me work this out.

-You bet, and, hey, Gabe, let’s not let it go so long this time. How about we do lunch one of these days?

-Bye for now, Gabe!

-What’s that?

-No, I won’t tell anyone we talked.

Hail and farewell Bob Newhart.

 

Hail & Farewell., Not Non-Fiction, Submitted For Your Approval., The Weekly Essay

Free Parking.

Author: July 16, 2024 4 Comments

It’s been a week now since I slipped into the parking garage without scanning my ID. For a long time I had a problem, as a matter of principle, with having to pay for parking, but when I thought about it I realized that I have many other options: riding the bus, carpooling. I could even walk. According to Google Maps the walk would be just under seven miles which, at my usual walking pace, would get me there at under an hour and a half. I might even go faster since I’d be really motivated to get past the stretches with no sidewalks and very little shoulder where the speed limit is 40MPH, which means most cars zip by at around fifty. Biking is also an option, though I’d have a lot of hills to go over and I’d still have to worry about traffic, though, funny enough, Google shows a route for both walking and biking that goes through a local park, so not only would that keep me away from traffic but I could begin and end each day with a nice trip through the woods.

Between wanting to sleep late, though, and wanting to get home at the end of the day—unless I have errands which could be difficult if I were walking or biking—driving is the best option. And I recognize that being able to park is a privilege, so, as a matter of principle, I’m fine paying for it. Besides six dollars a day to park when I only go in to the office a couple of times a week isn’t selling my soul to the company store.

And last week there was some construction work being done on the parking garage. It all seemed to be on the outside and on the roof—cars were still allowed to park, but I had to go the long way around because the alternate entrance was the only one that was open. For some reason they had also taken out the card scanner at the other entrance. The other entrance is usually where I exit—the geography of parking garages baffles me and I can never figure out why I can go in at the entrance at one end of the building, circle around the floors, then, on my way out, end up at the entrance at the other end—so I know there’s usually a card scanner there. With no card scanner there they were offering free parking.

I did think about asking someone whether the parking that day really was free, but I’d already been all the way around the block to get to the entrance and none of the construction guys looked like they were in the mood to answer questions. Also I figure if it does turn out I made a mistake it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

As a matter of principle.

Adventures In Busing.

Put A Pinwheel In It.

Author: July 13, 2024 8 Comments

My wife has tried several things to keep squirrels and chipmunks out of her flowers. She’s put wire mesh around the pots but that obscures the flowers, makes it hard to water them, and also the squirrels and chipmunks just climb over it. She’s tried traps but we’re both squeamish and don’t really want to kill them so we end up with a live squirrel or chipmunk in a humane trap and, well, what are we supposed to do with it then? No matter where we release them they’re just going to come back. At least once a year one of our neighbors finds a garter snake in her garden and she gets me to come over and remove it, which I’m happy to do because I like snakes, and even though I release it at the very back of our yard I’m pretty sure it just goes back to my neighbor’s garden.

We won’t use poison because that could harm the dogs and also, again, we don’t want to kill the little beasts, just keep them out of the flowers. She tried fox urine and all that did was get the dogs excited and do a little watering of the flowers of their own.

The latest thing she’s tried is pinwheels. Supposedly the movement and sound will frighten away small animals, which sounds plausible but it doesn’t work. The bright side is I like seeing the pinwheels out there among the flowers. They’re fun to watch, they don’t need to be watered, the squirrels and chipmunks leave them alone.

And they remind me of the British comedian Jasper Carrott’s mole story.

 

American Graffiti.

Summer Things.

Author: July 12, 2024 6 Comments

It’s strange what we remember, and how distant memories can surprise us. A friend said something to me the other day and immediately reminded me of when I was eleven and found The Thing. It looked like a cross between an avocado and a pine cone, crosshatched with deep grooves and covered with the soft gray-green fur of an unripe peach, so of course I picked it up and took it home where it went into my collection that included a dead June bug, dried staghorn lichen, smoky quartz crystals, and other oddities. The Thing was the only item I couldn’t identify. I could have asked someone, or even just looked around the place where I found it for some clue to its identity, but I liked the mystery; it was earthy yet otherworldly.

Besides I’d found it in the grass outside the pool we went to. I’m not sure why I even saw it since most days when we went to the pool I was either too interested in getting into the water or too tired from a day spent in the water to notice anything else.

We went to a place called The Dolphin Club which seemed odd because there are no dolphins in Tennessee, but maybe The Catfish Club was already taken, The Bass Club would have sounded too much like a music place, and The Crappie Club just wouldn’t sound right. It wasn’t really a “club” either, but a big plus-sign shaped pool surrounded by concrete and a fence with a single cinderblock building that housed the office and changing rooms. Nearby there were a couple of crumbling tennis courts, a few trees, and a rock wall that ran along the road, but beyond that nothing but empty fields. It seemed like we spent most of the hottest days of summer there, maybe because there wasn’t much else to do. I was even on the swim team. I don’t remember being asked if I wanted to join the swim team, or even wanting to join the swim team. It was just something that happened and I went along because there wasn’t much else to do, though it meant getting up early and, instead of easing into the pool, jumping right in to chilly water, twisting my body around as bubbles floated up around me. I always had this image being transformed into a humpback whale, even though you’re even less likely to find those in Tennessee than dolphins.

The strange thing about me being on the swim team is that, even though I liked to swim, I wasn’t that strong of a swimmer. I couldn’t dive worth a damn either, only do a full-body flop off the starting blocks. But The Dolphin Club, cheap and a little rundown and out in the middle of nowhere, wasn’t as choosy as some of our competitors, bigger places that really were clubs, with indoor pools, hot tubs, and racquetball courts. I was also the only kid at The Dolphin Club who’d mastered the butterfly stroke. I was last in every competition but at least I had perfect form.

Then there was the swim team’s Fourth of July party, the only time I got to swim after dark, when underwater lights came on, the pool glowed aqua, and the sun overhead was replaced by stars, perhaps even the moon. As July drifted into the dog days of August and pool attendance dropped off the lifeguards would relax and we could throw the lounge chairs into the deep end, swim down, and stretch out in them as long as we could hold our breath. By summer’s end I could go from one end of the pool to the other without surfacing.

So with not a lot going on I forgot about The Thing. Except for the quartz crystals which I moved to my room the other specimens were thrown out into the yard. The Thing, for some reason, stayed on a shelf in the basement where I’d pass by it occasionally and wonder what it was before I turned away to something more important, like peeling a golf ball to find out what was inside. Its mystery would only be solved three years later when my parents planted a magnolia tree in the front yard. In the spring it produced creamy white blooms that dropped away, turning to leather, and at the start of summer the branches were covered with Things, each one studded with crimson seeds.

The Weekly Essay

The Route Of The Problem.

Author: July 9, 2024 4 Comments

It’s been more than four years since I last rode the bus. If I’d known the last time that it would be the last time I’d have treated it as a special occasion, maybe ridden it all the way to the end of the line and back around. That also would have made getting off at my stop easier since I wouldn’t have to cross the street. I used to disembark next to a major shopping center which isn’t exactly pedestrian-friendly since the planners obviously assumed everyone would just drive there. And they’re right–every time I drive by there I don’t see anyone walking. When I’d get off the bus there to make the trek home I was almost always alone, and always on the wrong side of the street. There is a light with a crossing signal but it only stays red for about ten seconds which isn’t much time to cross a four-lane road.

Recently I was at work and had to go pick up a prescription, so I thought, well, why not take the bus? The pharmacy is only about a twenty minute walk for me but the heat wave and the threat of storms and also the idea of revisiting an old routine all made the bus seem like a good idea. And with four routes converging on this one stop I figured it would look like this:

Source: Tumblr

In fact I’d been at the stop less than a minute before a bus drove up. I hopped on without checking to see what route it was. All I wanted was to go straight down the street for about ten blocks, and three of the routes listed would have done that. I’d picked the one that went two blocks then took a left turn and would go from there to parts unknown. Or rather parts not only known but far away from where I wanted to go. It’s not a route I know well but I know it’s long. I briefly wondered how long I should stay on to avoid looking like a schmuck but decided to risk it and pressed the stop button. The driver gave me a funny look that seemed to say, “Next time stick around a little longer”.

On my walk back a bus went by that would have dropped me right in front of my office, saving me several minutes, but I’d decided the next time I ride the bus I will stick around longer. I’ll make it a special occasion. Also it would have dropped me on the wrong side of the street.

Adventures In Busing.

Someone To Watch Over Me.

Author: July 6, 2024 6 Comments

Over at Mydangblog Suzanne Craig-Whytock has written a few times about her miniature room which always reminds me of William Blake:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour…

He also said, “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom” which seems to contradict the lines from Auguries of Innocence, but I can accept that poets have wide-ranging and even malleable opinions. I also can’t think of William Blake without remembering the time one of my English professors showed the class slides of some Blake prints and a girl next to me kept whispering, “He’s insane…he’s insane…” It’s completely unrelated but I read somewhere that Saint-Saëns whispered the same thing at the premiere of Stravinsky’s Sacre du Printemps. Even more unrelated the first time Allen Ginsberg read Howl at a gallery in San Francisco and said the line “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness” the poet Frank O’Hara was in the audience and whispered “Good lord, do you think he means us?”

I’ve gotten excessive with the quotes there even though I really wanted to talk about Headquarters Coffee Shop, a tiny little place on Nashville’s Charlotte Avenue. The space is so small I think it was once an alley that simply got absorbed into a building, but that building is more than a century old so I don’t know if there are any records. If you’re ever there and waiting to order you might look over at the brick wall and see this:

Click to embiggen.

I love that they’ve taken a hole in the wall—which is what some people might also call Headquarters—and turned it into a little space. It even changes. Here it is a few months ago:

The last time I was there I was working on a short story about a little girl who finds a door to Fairyland but isn’t allowed to in even though she offers up her mother’s iPad and even her baby sister for payment. It was really crowded inside so I went to the back patio.

While I was out there writing I felt like something was looking down from the old window above me. Finally I went to check it out and saw this:

That’s very different thing than what’s inside but I can accept that Headquarters may be small but it has wide-ranging and even malleable opinions. And excellent iced coffee. Make mine a large—I’m feeling excessive.

American Graffiti.

Light ‘Em Up!

Author: July 4, 2024 6 Comments

Fourth of July celebrations around the United States usually mean dazzling displays of pyrotechnics, but they can cause a lot of problems, including fires. There are plenty of alternatives like movies in the park, so here’s a pop quiz: Fireworks or Buddy Cop film?

1. Hot Fuzz

2. Point Break

3. Bad Boys

4. Turner And Hooch

5. Tuggy Huggy

6. A Gnome Named Gnorm

7. Sky Monster

8. Three Minute Blaze Of Glory

9. Lethal Weapon

10. Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!

11. Furious Flamingo

12. Terms Of Endearment

13. Sixteen Blocks

14. Emoji Spinners

15. Ground Bloom Flower Brick

16. Men In Black

17. Buffy The Vampire Slayer

18. Dragnet

19. Penguin Mama

20. The Glimmer Man

21. Croc Rock

22. Midnight Run

23. Killer Chihuahua

24. Osmosis Jones

25. Demon Escape

26. Bottle Rocket

27. Roman Candle

28. Blue Streak

29. Heart Condition

30. Donkey Balls

Scoring:
More than 25–You’re a Hollywood special effects technician with a business card that says “I blow shit up for a living.” You burned down your high school.
15-24–For reasons only you can explain you double majored in film studies and chemistry and still have most of your fingers. You burned down your parents’ garage.
10-14–You like movies and always find the best parking spot for your local Fourth Of July celebration. You once burned off your eyebrows while grilling hot dogs.
5-9–You watch your local Fourth Of July celebration on the morning news on the fifth of July. You burn yourself on the stove every time you cook.
1-4–You once burned yourself with a glow stick.

All fireworks are currently commercially available and trademarked by their respective manufacturers.

Answer Key:

Buddy cop film: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 13, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 28, 29
Fireworks: 5, 7, 8, 11, 14, 15, 19, 21, 23, 25, 26, 27, 30
Should be both: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 11, 12, 14, 17, 19, 25, 30

Pop Quiz, The Vault, The Weekly Essay