Archive for the ‘Narrative’ Category

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The Warning

September 12, 2012

Θ

he Queen raised her head and spoke,

“Summer shall end one Moon early this year”.

Her subjects nodded their approval.

She continued, “As Spring began one Moon early and Summer began one Moon early so shall Fall begin one Moon early.  To this I add that Winter too shall begin one Moon early.  What stores we have not must be now drawn from the land.  From each field must come into this Palace the food of our Winter.  Placed herein by the many hands of the faithful.  To secure for all of us a future in the flowering fields of Spring.”

The subjects buzzed loudly with excitement as they hurried to their tasks.

The Queen, finished with her proclamation, excused herself and began anew her sacred task.  Laying eggs in the honeycomb.

θ

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The Dreamer Man (part 1)

July 18, 2009

Have you seen the news about the photographing of an uncontacted tribe near Peru?  Here’s a link.  Native people still living in the bush totally unaware of the rest of the world.  Talk about Organic, sheesh!

I can’t help but think they have gods to pray to.  Gods that look over them from the Heavens & Earth.  What respects the people must have?  What sacrifices they must bear?

Of course there is the Sun God and the Night God.  Do they have a Fire God and a River God?  Surely they must.  Maybe a God of Harvest or the Hunt and then the Gods of Famine and War?  They need these Gods to explain the workings of their world, their environment.  All necessary to define their Humanity.  The tribes place in the universe.

Their culture outlined by how each event is placed in the hierarchy of life.  The culture guiding each person towards their short and long term goals.  The goal of survival supreme.  The passing of these lessons and ideas so intrinsic to that goal.

At this point I wonder.  How do they explain the vapor trails left by passenger jets?  Am I crazy?  Modern people fly from Argentina northward every day.  If everything has a purpose then what purpose do vapor trails have in a primitive culture innocent of Our culture?

So I thought about it and decided that for it to make any sense to them they would…

Θ

The day was early still.  The child rearing men & women were in the forest hunting & gathering food and supplies.  The eldest men & women were busy with the daily maintenance within the village. The children to young to be in the forest with their parents were helping the elders in the village.  The Dreamer man had just finished his task of stoking the fire and piling up the fire wood for the days use.  The days during the Moon of the Fire God were always filled with dry weather.  Since the Fire God stole the water from the sky and ground no plant would make flowers or fruit.  This is why the Tribe wrapped extra food in leaves and hid them beneath the ground.  For the Fire God could not take what he could not find.

The Dreamer Man would then walk through the village collecting all the helpful children.  They would all know that today they would go with the Dreamer Man into one of his dreams.  His dreams were always of the Gods.  The children knew they had to be respectful to the Gods.  To do so is to offer a gift to them.  The children would think the Gods hungry at this time of day.  So each runs first to the edge of the forest to gather seed pods before heading to where the Dreamer Man was heading.  As the children hurried to find gifts he went to the Counting Tree and retrieved his drinking gourd.  He then went to the creek to fill the gourd before meeting the children at his fire.

When all had gathered.  Many smiling faces would become quiet and sit down.  The old man tells them to sit together so that their shadows overlap and become one.  Then he reminds them that dreams are held inside of their shadows.  That each of their shadows is made up of all the dreams they have ever had.   But since the Sun God is not allowed to see a dream.  Shadows always stand hidden behind you from the Sun.

Then the Dreamer Man still standing looks toward the Sun.   He asks permission to take the group away from the Sun and into a dream.  While holding the gourd in one hand he covers it with the other.  The shadow of his old hand darkens the water within.  He then says to the children.

The Sun can not see my dreams.  The Sun now can not see this water.  I have put my dream in this water.  All of you drink this water.  Then all of us will be in my dream.”

He then passes the gourd to the children to drink.  One small child is very anxious and gulps at the water.  The old man looks to him and says.

If you drink too much your shadow will see too much of my dreams.  Your shadow will forget it belongs to you and might wander away and become lost in my dream.  If your dreams are lost to you than you will be lost.  Then what will become of you?”

The child, cowed, looks quickly at the gourd then back up at the Dreamer Man.  The child says.

Then I will only drink just enough.”

With some trepidation, and a sheepish smile, the child hands off the gourd to a friend.  The man smiles back and waits until they are finished drinking.  When the gourd is returned to the Dreamer Man he says to the children.

Now close your eyes and do not open them until I awake you.”

The children all close their eyes and relax their posture.  The Dreamer Man continues.

Today I dream of the Sky God.”

Θ

Soul without a Shadow.jpg

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AAAAAHHHHHRRRRRGGG!

September 9, 2008

My daughter is telling me all about which boys she likes the most at school.  She’s nine.  NINE!  I can’t tell which is worse.  The fact that she, like my Wife, thinks smelly, hairy boys (well men for the Wife) are a good thing.  Or, that at nine the part of her brain that makes you girls like smelly, hairy, loud, obnoxious boys is pumping it’s venom into her blood stream.  Don’t you know that we smell our drawers to see if they’re good for one more day!.  Don’t you know we depend on you to know better?  HOW does my perfect, beautiful, intelligent, & light filled daughter look at a pile of loutish little mud heathens and think,”Oh boy!”?  How do any of you do that?  Do you have any idea how many guns I need to buy now?  And some barbed wire..and some alligators…. Guard dogs.  Big ones.  Like twenty feet tall or something.

Sigh!

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An Ordinary Day

February 19, 2008

I do many different things at work. One, of which, is to check contractor compliance. There are two of us that do this. One in the north and me in the south. As usual I rolled up to a job site the other day to administer a weekly inspection. This was the first time I would meet this crew since they started working in my area. They are typically up north. I jumped out of the truck and walked toward the work deck. I was looking for the owner/foreman when up popped some old guy. He had to be eighty or so and wearing a hard hat and safety vest. I thought to myself, ‘what’s a guy this old doing on a job site. He can’t possibly be working here‘. As the old guy walked up to me I bid him good morning. He says something and then keeps talking.

Well what can I say. This old guy is also a little guy, plus he apparently doesn’t talk loud either. This is important because we are surrounded by heavy equipment, that’s moving: you know, BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP, Rawrawr Rawrawr Rawrawr, clunk clunk whomp! So here I am trying to make first contact with a contractor and instead I’m standing next to Benny Hill’s little old sidekick who’s lips are moving but for all intensive purposes nothing is coming out. So I smile and nod my head a lot. I still want to know why this old man is here? Eventually the crew’s owner sees me and comes over to talk. He, the owner, says something and the old guy walks away.

Now the owner, Larry, and I have lots to talk about and for two hours he and I go over every aspect of his business while walking throughout the site. finally I was satisfied that we understood and were on good terms with each other. As I was concluding the conversation I, offhandedly, mentioned the old guy and asked who he was.

Larry informed me that the old guy’s name was Tommy and that he was the father of one of the men on the crew, Bobby. Larry then told me that Tommy has cancer and was given six months to a year to live last fall. He went on to say, as I was suddenly silent, that he hired Tommy so he and his son could spend what little time he has left together. It seams that the crew was in agreement that Tommy would be better off working with Bobby than at home sitting around worrying about his fate. Larry explained that Tommy could only make it to work several days out of the week. That they gave him the lightest jobs he could still handle. Ironic since, as it turns out, Tommy was a renaissance man when younger. He taught himself how to handle most equipment. Then, naturally, taught his son how to operate just about everything too.

Larry said that hiring Tommy was the best way to handle the situation. He then looked down at the ground and shook his head. He said that he wouldn’t know what to do if it was his daddy.

Larry’s company is very successful and he is one of our best contractors. Larry is well off and in his mid thirties. I like Larry. I like him a lot. Not because he has good business sense but because he will do for his employees as much as he would do for himself. That is not a common quality anymore. I feel both saddened and privileged. I hope I get another chance to talk to Tommy. He saw the doctors again last week. I need to find out how it went.

***UPDATE***

Tommy went to the doctor last week and was told that his cancer has moved faster than they thought it would and into everything. He took this very hard. He did not come back to work last week or this week, though I understand he can still get around. His son is still at work and the crew is worried about both of them. Call me naive but I’m still hoping for the best. Larry and I spent thirty minutes talking about our respective fathers. As I told my son, I will still be trying to impress my dad even when I’m eighty and he’s gone. I think most guys are like this. The one’s that can be that is. Which is probably why we won’t let go so easily.

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Dream Biscuit

January 26, 2008

Do you have a dog? Have you ever come across your dog while it was dreaming in its sleep? Want to have some fun? From my experience dogs have two basic dreams: barking & running. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been woken up at night by one of the dogs. who is barking & chasing something in its sleep. They do this while napping during the day as well. My dog, the oldest of them, does this rather frequently. When I catch her doing it I whisper to her, “get the deer, get the deer”. She knows English better than some people I’ve met and so tears off in hot pursuit. Her legs start kicking and she gruffs even more. I figure its a good thing because I wish someone would whisper to me when I’m dreaming, “autobahn Ferrari, autobahn Ferrari”.

Now the other day, when I was typing up my last post, I caught her doing it again. She was under the desk at my feet. She was chasing something somewhere in a dream. So I stopped what I was doing. Backed out my chair. Put my head down by hers and began to whisper. I took a novel approach this time. I said, “good girl, good girl”. That seemed to get her attention, but she remained asleep. Then I said, “come her”, I made the official Come her sound, then “come her” again. She stopped gruffing at this point and only her feet were moving. Then I whispered, ” inside, come on inside”. I figured that at this point in her dream she and I would be standing in the front yard. To go inside she would run on the porch and wait for me to open the door. After several seconds of watching her move her feet in her dream and then stop moving altogether I said, “inside, inside, come on inside”. Her feet started to move again as she drempt of me letting her in the front door

All of this follows a typical sequence of events that occurs numerous times each day. The dogs and I are vastly familiar with it and there can be only one logical next step.

So I whispered, “want a biscuit”, “does good girl want a biscuit for being a good biscuit girl”, Biscuit, biscuit”. Her feet immediately started to kick and jump. I waited a few seconds allowing her time to dream herself into the kitchen. I then whispered, “sit, sit”. Her feet stopped moving. Followed by “nice, nice”, after that command I always give them their treat then say, “good girl, good girl” A second or two after I whispered this to her she began chew with her lips closed, in her sleep.

Mission accomplished!

I sat back up amazed that it worked. I then promised myself that I will always give my dogs biscuits when I catch them dreaming in the future. If you don’t know about this give it a try. It’s fun.

She woke up all by herself five or so minutes later.  Her tail was wagging and she was apparently glad to see me.

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Huh…W-w-what the Hell!

January 24, 2008

 

        So I’m driving around again today. Moving down the road at a good clip. 100 yards between me and the person in front of me. More or less in the slot. When, of course some schmuck pulls in ahead of me off a side road. Naturally he is in no hurry to get anywhere but in front on me. So my groove goes down in flames and I’m stuck behind someone who can only drive as fast as they think. SLOW. Yeah yeah, I know it happens everyday, quite bitching. Fortunately I was armed with (Easy it ain’t what you think) very calm music recommended to me by Mermaids Muse. Sooo I deal with it. Until. The guy ahead of me pulls out an object in his one hand. He begins to rub it on his head. Odd! “Hey!, he looks like he’s bald“. “No wait, he’s…he’s…shav…shaving….he’s shaving his head!?“. This cat was shaving his egg while driving in front of me? How good of a trim is that gonna Goddamn be? I want to know what this guy’s nickname at work is. I can see him standing at the water cooler talking to his fellow employees with patches of missed stubble sticking out of his pickle, “Hey Chess Board did you catch the game last night“. Or maybe, “Good night everyone. Drive home safely. Especially you Crabgrass!“. I have nothing against baldness (He probably has hair but cuts it off). One side of my family is bald or balding. They do not, however, shave whats left on their noggins while cutting people off in traffic. They may not have hair but they got brains. Just Damn!

 

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Dead Trees

December 22, 2007

animism

Pronunciation: \’a-nə-,mi-zəm\

Function: noun

Etymology: German Animismus, from Latin anima soul

Date: 1832

1 : a doctrine that the vital principle of organic development is immaterial spirit

2 : attribution of conscious life to objects in and phenomena of nature or to inanimate objects

3 : belief in the existence of spirits separable from bodies

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The evil in the trees

Is really the insanity in the mans mind

The insanity in his mind perverts the mans life

The perverse life that crawls out into the woods

And becomes the evil in the trees

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I hate the woods at night. They scare the hell out of me. I know there is something is inside of them, something dreadful. I can stand just outside the woodline of a woods looking in at the shadows and silhouettes of the trees. Though I see that nothing is moving, my heart tells me that there is a presence just beyond my vision. My mind screams to me that one of the shadows is alive, malevolent, perverted, and hungry. Instantly I become aware of what a Junco must feels after when its eyes trace out the form of a Coopers hawk from low in a near by tree. At that moment My face grows flushes as hot waves of fear crash into me. Sometimes my muscles seize Left paralyzed as the panic consumes me I become a statue; though my blood boils.  I praying that my stillness will masks my presence and keeps the predator from charging pouncing. At other times Sometimes, though rarely, I have marshal enough courage left to turn and walk away without looking back, terrified.

Obviously, I can never enter the woods at night if alone; if I am in the company of friends I might, but never alone.It is ironic too since I spend so much time alone in the woods during the day.I would be incomplete without the forest.However, night happens, and it happens occasionally while I am out there.Again, if I am with my friends, terror does not strike me, caution does.As long as I stay with the group and do not let myself become separated, I am safe.To me there is strength in numbers.

Please do not ask me what I think is out there because I do not know.I do know, however, that it stands just beyond the limit of my night vision, or crouches behind a bush where even moonlight can not reach.Waiting to pounce.It follows me when I am out there.It waits,…waits to find me alone and not paying attention, which I will never let happen.I may not be able to see it, but I know exactly where it is standing.I can feel its gaze upon my Soul.

Maybe this feeling of mine is just a remnant of ancient instincts that were meant to protect us from ancient predators.If so then horror should confront me during the day as well.Surely ancient man was at risk from predators any time he left the protection of the clan.Yet, this feeling of mine does not act to split my attention during the day.It belongs strictly to the night, the night in the woods.

Yet, oddly, one night something happened.After years of guarding myself from this Evil lurking fate that roams through dark woods, I did what I always thought impossible.After staring for an hour into woods I was only familiar with during the day, I entered them, at night, and alone.This was not just any night, but a dead night.Winter had settled in and nothing that lived was in those woods,…except me, and all things that do not live.

A wet snow was trying to bury the Earth, but I had dressed for it.Many lose layers of clothing kept me warm.I wore a wide-rimmed leather hat to keep my head dry.The snow was covering all of the days animal tracks, including mine as I made them.If I stood still long enough, all evidence of my having walked through the area would vanish.No matter where I went, it looked like I had never been there.The snow was also piling up on the tops of tree limbs as well as my shoulders and hat.I felt as if the night wanted me to become part of it.It is no wonder why I felt a little less human that night.

Before I walked into those woods, my personality had already begun to change.I know now that it was changing into something strange, old, and predaceous.I wanted to find my demon, hunt him down, challenge him, force him to strike me.If he could draw my blood, then he was real.I would know that some fears should never be pushed.When, however, his strike caused me no pain, nor drew my blood, would his power over me be betrayed.I would no longer fear this demon or his woodland domain.

Yet I wanted more than just a release from fear.I wanted revenge for all of the fears that had ever victimized me.My confidence was waxing.It occurred to me that if my demon proved to be weaker than I, that with vengeanced-spite I would harm and hurt him beyond the degree that he had damaged me.This was my plan, regardless of what I may be forced to suffer, the haunting would cease.

The sky was closed-off by the clouds of a winter’s storm.The light pollution from town made the night sky ash-grey. The millions of gorged snow flakes falling through the air consumed all sound.The only remaining noise was my breath wheezing past my ice-covered lips, and my heart beating as loud as a calving glacier.All I could see were the boles of the sleeping trees, their silhouettes seeping out of the ground and spilling into the night.It was as if the night had rooted itself to the earth.

So I entered, and not as cautious as usual. Instead of scanning for the reflection of carnivorous eyes, my signal to flee, I just walked forward with raised brow, as easy prey.Baiting its hunger.

After several minutes, I stopped beneath a small tree. I scanned all around the woods with my eyes, and saw only night.A few areas that seemed dark enough to conceal my demon I openly investigated.He was not there, just night, trees, and snow, so I continued marching through the dark woods.

I made my way by marching between the gaps in the trees.For there are no paths where people never walk.This went slowly.One step, wait as bait.Another step and search for movement.When I came up to the thicket I did not stop.Not now.I simply crouched down on all fours, then continued hunting.Under the brush.Like an animal.Hidden by the night.

When I came to a low, flat area something began to growl ahead of me.I became as still as a rock, except for my head which mechanically pivoted towards the sound.I stopped breathing and calmed my heart to hear better.It then called out with a low muffled bark, though more like a menacing gruff. I could hear the dog pulling its chain trying to break free so it could engage me.

I remained still, and thought of what the dogs owner might see when he looked outside his window.From the sound of it, the dog would be standing on its haunches against the pull of the chain, barking and pawing at the air towards the black woods.I am sure the hair on the back of the dog’s neck would be standing straight up as well.What effect this would have on the owner I did not know, nor did I stay to find out.

Out of the thicket, and once again on my feet, I was now headed towards what was the deepest part of the woods. It was a place I had never been to before, not by day nor with my friends. Seeing only in grey and mostly black, waiting for something to reach out and gut me, I alone would enter this area for the first time.

And still I walked. In dead silence. Except for the snowy crunch of my footfalls and my fear laden breath

As I openly crossed the Natural Gas line into the unfamiliar woods, I again felt different.Besides what affect the snow and the night had on my mind, the dog had aided in making me feel like a true denizen of these woods.My fear was slowly ebbing away as my interest, for this night-shrouded woods, climbed.I was becoming comfortable in the dark veil that was these woods.

Near the center of these deeper woods, I came upon what was left of an old forgotten house. Only its foundation remained standing. Encompassing it were the old trees that had once been part of the house’s external grace, but now were decrepit and venerable in appearance.

Hung from those trees like a spider’s web made from thick steel cable, was grape vine.Its giant knotted mass undulated its way beneath the snow, attacking every tree like cancer.Young trees stood mummified by tendrils while older trees had entire limbs torn from their trunk by the weight of the vine.Near its heart, and like a black candelabra, its eight inch diameter arms climbed skyward into the ugly trees.The vine set upon the woods even though it was winter, a time when trees and vines should be asleep.

Looking at this vine, I somehow felt it was alive, sentient, and aware of my presence.Without fear, but with awe, I walked into its space and began to examine it, to see if it was real.I pulled off my gloves and stuffed them under the epaulet of my jacket.Touching the vine, it was cold, stable and rough.I impulsively climbed onto a lower arm of the vine; it held my weight well. I spotted above me where two arms were narrowly crossed, and began climbing up to them.Only a trace coating of snow had found its way onto the vines, so climbing was easy.When I had gone high enough, I straddled both vines with my legs.Then sitting, I leaned back into the crossed arms of the vines. It was much like a natural hammock. I put my gloves back on before folding my arms over my chest.In this way my silhouette sank into the form of the vine and trees.

From my perch I saw no demon in the woods below me.I felt no fear from the night surrounding me.I recognized no existence of malice or death.All that I could perceive were the vines, the woods, night, snowstorm, myself, and silence.All of us alive and sharing in an intimate peace.Communion.If there was a demon, then he was not interested in me that evening.Everything in the woods made sense to me now.I knew what was behind the trees because I had been there myself, and found nothing.At that point I did not know if the woods belonged to me or if I belonged to the woods.Whichever it was, I felt good, like something that is natural and instinctual, and is just always suppose to happen.

I remained on my perch, staying as still as the trees, watching the storm blanket us in snow.

Later, while still cradled in the arms of my vine, I mused to myself about a group of deer that might wander into this area.They would not sense me; of course I would be part of the night, a section of vine.The deer could scratch through the snowand begin to browse. I could watch, long, and in silence.Or, while staring directly at one, I could whisper a small unnatural hiss through my lips.Of course the deer would immediately raise its head, stop chewing, and freeze in movement.Its eyes would quickly scan the woods for the threat, while its heart began to pound a little harder.Its instincts would tell it that something unseen was watching it.Something that could be hiding in the shadows behind the trees.Something dreadful.

quod erat demonstrandum.jpg

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HORNER, JACK

November 29, 2007

      I don’t know how long they’ve been here, drifting through the room touching people. As far as I can remember the ghosts have always been here; they make us normal again. It’s always so quiet after they have come and gone. When they touch me, oh they are so beautiful, I can begin to remember things again. I know when they have touched me because my throat feels cool and my mouth is wet. As soon as I stop shaking I go to my window.
     I love my window because it is so bright, just like the ghosts. I know that I am normal when I look out the window because I see people walking in all that brightness. They must be normal, so I’m sure that I am too because otherwise how could I see them?
     My window is so pretty. For so long it shows me a green world; then it changes its mind, turns a bunch of colors, and then turns white. That’s when it’s the brightest. I can never remember to count how many times it’s turned white for me, but my window likes me because it’s done it a lot. Even though it changes colors all the time, I know it’s my window, my name is on the bed under it. In little letters it says “HORNER, JACK”.
     But now my hands start to shake again and I don’t like to sit by my window. The Outside people can see me here. They stop walking by and start watching me. I think they see my hands shake. The ghosts say that Outside peoples hands don’t shake ’cause they’re normal. So if they see me shaking they will know I live with the ghosts. When the ghosts make my mouth wet and cold my hands stop shaking. But now my hands are shaking so I can’t be normal. I wish my window would help me stay normal.
     I have to get up now. Maybe I can find a ghost to touch me again, but all I see is the other people. All of them are Inside people. They wear stripes like me. They are so noisy. Whenever my hands begin to shake the Inside people get too loud and hurt my ears. I always have to cover my head with my arms and run to the quiet places. But I’m looking for the ghosts and I don’t see any.
     My favorite quiet place is over in the corner under the shelf. It is a very tall shelf, but it does not scare me. I know nothing is living up there. I sit in my corner because I am smart. I know that because the ghosts stay away from us Inside people when we are loud, so I must be smart when I hide from the loud people. I know that if I can be like the ghosts, then I am good and they will have to say I’m normal.
     The ghosts have come back to stop my hands from shaking. I stand and walk over to them. I try to float like they do. I practice. One ghost smiles at me, touches me, but my mouth is still dry. I hope I’ve not been bad. They make it dark when I’m bad. The ghost says today we are special because one of the Outside people has given us their food to eat.
     But if I eat Outside people food, then wont I get smart and become normal? On the table is the Outside food. It’s a pie. It must have brains in it or something. The kind that will keep my hands from shaking.
     So I grab the pie for myself, right in front of the ghost, and run to my corner. The ghost gets all loud and noisy like Inside people do. This pie must have the ghosts brain in it. It wants the brains for itself. It only wanted to give us a little. But I know now. I’ll get a brain and I’ll be normal. When I get to my corner I sit down with the Outside pie. I don’t want to break all the brains by mushing them up with my whole hand. The ghost is so noisy now. I don’t want the ghost to think I’m bad and make it dark so I stick only my thumb in the pie. When I pull it out there is a brain stuck to it, it looks sort of like a plum. I show the ghost my new brain, so it knows that I’m smart and normal now. I say “I’m a good boy” but the ghost says I’m not smart.
     Then the ghost makes everything go dark…

quod erat demonstrandum.jpg

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Something Good!

November 19, 2007

Today was a righteously fine day. To start with my sister & clan showed up on Saturday on a stop over from their family vacation. I have not seen her and hers’ for some time so the visit was readily welcomed and enjoyed. The Wife and I and my sister and brother-in-law talked well into the evening while all the kids ran around the house ’till they turned into butter. Classic evening. Then we all woke up early to a repeat performance until late morning when they needed to hit the road. Good-bye’s, hugs, and my two kids chased along side of their car as they departed. Alright, great morning.

So the wife and I needed to run one quick errand. We left Kid 1 and Kid 2 at home to play Monopoly and we hit the road. Did I mention that today was a divine autumn day? While driving I asked the wife if there’s anything particular she wanted to do today. All she said was “Go canoing”. I mentioned that I could build some picture frames in the garage when we got back home. She then stuck out her bottom lip and hit me with that “I thought you loved me” pout. So we went canoing. On a mountain lake. On a sunny autumn day. With the kids and the dog. Off the lake before sundown with lots of awesome pictures. Then in the truck and home. Heading home every one was calm, quiet, and relaxed. Nearing the house I noticed a column black smoke coming from the direction of the house. This makes me think about the roast in the crock-pot. Begin slight uneasy feeling. Then the wife sees the column and says “Don’t we live over there?”. Begin moderate uneasy feeling. A few moments later Kid 2 piped up in the back with “Mommy, Daddy’s going fast again”. Ahem… Anyway a couple of hundred feet before I am to turn onto my road we see some neighbors burning a brush pile in their yard. And there we have the origin of the column of smoke. AAHHhhhh… That’s a lot better than what I was thinking. I eased off the accelerator. Coasted the rest of the way. Good air in, bad air out. Repeat. “Oh look kids there’s our house!”. “Doesn’t it look great!” So everybody got out. Grab this grab that. Up the steps. Turned the key. Opened the door…

SMOKE!

Billowing out from the door.

Parents race in,

To the kitchen

Kid 1 grabs Kid 2,

Races out to lawn.

Parents to crock-pot,

Crock-pot to deck.

Kids from lawn

Now at door,

Calling out.

Impromptu sit-rep on front porch

Unanimous decision

Chinese!

SooOO, the wife takes the kids into town to grab some take-out. While I stay home to vent the house. (Oh, not enough water in the damn pot) We eventually eat dinner, vent the house, wash the kids, vent the house, and put them to bed, while venting the house. Well it’s time for me and the wife to kick back and smell the house, no, relax (not that we haven’t been relaxing all day anyway. But, hey, why not?). I get ready to write my post for tonight. She puts on a movie she rented. Tells me it’s a chick flick and viewing is not mandatory for me. So I sit back and begin to center my thoughts. I want very much to write something tonight that will be up-lifting and positive. She turns on the movie and POW!

…”What is this?!”

“It’s a movie I rented. It’s supposed to be very good.”

…”These clips are real. How is this a movie?!”

“Just watch then.”

…”What’s it called?”

“God Grew Tired of Us.”

…”What’s it about?”

“Some Sudanese refugees that come to America from a refugee camp.”

Complete attention! This is one of the better movies I’ve ever seen. I will be showing this to Kid 1 directly. It is a documentary about these Sudanese guys coming to America to restart their lives after war and starvation as children. None of them have seen their families for years and wonder whether they ever will. They push themselves because to them failure is not an option. You get to watch as these guys spend 3 years in America struggling to embrace their culture while succeeding in another. As much as I wanted to write something that was uplifting, I could not hold a candle to this. Not even a flaming pot-roast. So the point of my post is to recommend the movie “God Grew Tired of Us“. You will not be wasting your time. You will be better off for indulging into this delight. If you’re emotional it will get you, but worry not. They film 3 guys all of which do well. Great endings. Great movie.

Dobre Den.