Memories

Standing, stooping, wielding a hoe in the afternoon sun, you think. You could sing. The slow patter of rain in the evening sings a love song, no rebellion of rivulets tumbling across the tilled Earth.

Late Delivery

While we were eating breakfast the letter was delivered. Missy barked.

My sister Gail had already opened the door and signed for the letter as I approached.

I hear him say, Thank you Mrs. Gilliam. Dang her hearing is bad.  

In slow motion she tears the thread to open the large envelope. "I was letting Missy out and I was face to face with the delivery man."

I wish she would wear her hearing aid. Well might as well see the contents.

"Wonder who would be sending us pictures Linda?"

She drops the bottom section of pictures as she shifts her hand to her cane. I'm older than Gail, but, I am not as broke down. I pick them up. Now we have a little dirt from the floor on one.

I look at Gail. Gail looks at me. Amazing, stuffy Mr. Gilliam,the pictures are obscene.

"I'm going to call the law. Send me trash like this. Who does that old codger think he is?"

I motion for Gail to come back to the table. I take the envelop and pictures and watch her get seated. I tap her hearing aid case. 

 "I mean damn, I have no interest in him or his naked butt." Gail says way too loud as she puts her right hearing aid in. The giggles slowly start like a reluctant lawn mower engine slowly roaring to life. Little Missy places her tiny paws on Gail's thigh.

"I didn't know they made crotchless pink panties with little boy legs ---- in size big ass."

Tears were streaming from my eyes. Gail was doubled over the table with one picture sticking up, Russell Gilliam, Esquire in a provocative pose with a sexy, silky matching bustier. He obviously shaved his legs. I remember being able to wear pumps like those. They did not look worth a hoot with the pink stockings attached to the pink garters. And who was that woman, it wasn’t Sherry Gilliam.

“I wonder why he sent these pictures.”

He didn’t. I heard the man call you Mrs. Gilliam.

Gail looks pensive at the stack. “Close enough to William don’t you think?”

“That’s right. Your fondness for rhymes has finally come in handy.”

“You certainly looked like you were having fun at the poetry slam.”

“It was nice rubbing up to all those male bodies even if they were gay.”

“Hey Sammy is not gay and he goes all the way.”

We both sit quietly drinking our coffee.as a squirrel works on the squirrel proof birdfeeder.

“Heh, heh Gail, remember Faye Dunbar”.

Is she still alive?

“Yeah, why don’t we give her these pictures?”

“Why would we do that? I say we burn them.”

“Remember Russell Gilliam saying ‘Faye goes all the way’ as a joke.”

Linda, that was over 50 years ago.

Let’s take the lock off old secrets and shame with these photos. Besides, it is our address on the envelop.

Karma With Intent

Across the road from a diner a neon sign flashes, “Beyond Taboo Tattoo”.

"I wonder what they would do if I rolled in there with my walker and demanded a tattoo on my rump.”

“Oh Claire, you are such a card. I suspect they would call ….” Nadine stopped and stirred her chili.  “They would think you had lost it.”

"Nadine, they put a tat on an eighteen year old, why wouldn’t they put one on an octogenarian.”

“Oh my, first blonde tint, now you are doing all that ‘jive’ talk, tat, good lord.  My dad told my brother when he went to fight in World War II, “Don’t you come home with a tattoo or foreign woman.”

“Wasn’t your sister-in-law from Germany?”

“Leroy didn’t get a tattoo. My son, Jerry hates tattoos more than Leroy and dad put together. It must be in the blood.”

A thin man with inch wide stretchers in his ear lobes, hipster jeans, and worn black Metallica t-shirt enters.

"You know who he is Claire?"

"He does look familiar."

"It’s Kenny Alvarado."

“How could I forget him and all those aggravating parent conferences with his mother Jeannette."

Kenny Alvarado gives a polite nod to Claire and Nadine as he approaches the lunch counter.

The lunch counter manager says, “How’s business?”

Kenny shrugs, “I just finished working  on this smelly and I mean smelly dude today. Tattoed his girlfriend’s name on his chest. Imagine someone wanting to be in the same room with that smell. Boss says, he don’t care if an old dude with a smelly diaper wants a rose on his ass. Business is slow.”

“Gotta make hay while the sun shines.” Intones a man sitting next to Nadine. 

  

"Hmmm, I think I’ll have a piece of cheesecake Claire."

"I thought it gave you gas Nadine."

"So does chili. Today is the day I get a tattoo from Kenny. I want my son Jerry to tell Kenny what he thinks about my tattoo."

Jack Happened in July

 

The family had been gone on vacation for 16 days that July. They left after George got home from work on Friday and drove straight to the Atlanta airport. What was an Alaska cruise had expanded into driving as far as they could around Alaska then cruise back to the lower 48.

George, Alice and the two kids trudged into the house at 10 PM the night of their return. Alice ordered George into the bed. He was going to work the next day and that man would keep working otherwise.  

It was late July and the kids still had two more weeks before school began. Alice noticed a family of Purple Thrushes homesteading in the drying Boston Fern through the kitchen window. To think she thought of watering the plants last night.

The birds could hear her and would stop as if keeping their activity a secret.

“Sara, get the video camera. Walter help your sister.”

Walter sissed at his sister, “Thanks for saying I’m bored, now we got a family project”.

Sara brought the camera.

“Walter, we need the tripod.”

“You didn’t say we needed the tripod.”

“I told you mom wanted the tripod.”

Attaching the camera to the tripod on the counter, Alice focused the video camera on the nest as the children slipped into the other room.

“We pick Louise up from the kennel this morning.” Alice called after them.

“She wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of the family watching the young birds hatch and fledge. Alice cautioned Walter as they returned from the kennel, “Don’t let Louise use the front door. Bring her around back into the house.”

“Why?”

 She might disturb the filming.”

“Whatever” mouths Walter.

Sara rolls her suitcase of dirty clothes to the laundry room. Sara pauses to look at the camera and sees the bird flying into the plant.

“There’s a nest”. With a shrill, Sara heads for the front door.

“Don’t do that Sara. We need to use the side and back doors for a few weeks. We don’t want to run off the new neighbors.” Alice chimed.

Louise pauses at the sink and immediately puts her big paws up on the counter. Cocking her head to the side, she lets out a good bark. Walter walks over combing his hair. Pieces of grass are on his clothes.  

When George got home, Walter escorts him seriously through the side door into the house to show him the bird’s nest.

After the first day of school, Alice looked at the half written essay by Walter as they organized his backpack.

“What I did over my summer vacation?”

Nothing. If these birds had not laid eggs

in one of my mom’s plants, nothing would have happened.

“Do you need this paper?”

“No, the teacher made me write another one. She said it was too short.”

Alice put the paper carefully aside to put in his Alaska scrapbook. One day, he would have a good laugh.

Illumination

“Mam, that yeller paint might be a bit bright.” 

Lillian Walt rises a few inches taller within her thin frame.” It will be fine.” She tells the painter before turning on her heels to meet the contractor in the new home.

“Would you and your husband like a light installed on the electric pole outside? They really don’t cost that much to power.”

“I would love one. Except. my husband wants it nice and dark  at night. He plans to sit on the porch and look at lightning bugs, study the stars.”

“I can see that.”

“Frankly, I can’t. Living in the city, you can see when you wake in the middle of the night.  I’m spooked about no light.”

“You’ll be enjoying your new home soon. Are you sure about that yellow paint?”

“I always have a yellow kitchen. . My kitchen is that same color at home. That’s my son driving in, don’t let me keep you.”

Weeks later, the movers pull out of the driveway. Lillian sits on the edge of a recliner.

“I need a shower, do you know which box has soap?”

Joe Walt shrugs. “That paint in the kitchen is bright.”

“I like it bright. If you remember correctly, that is the color of the kitchen at our house.”

“Well it is the color now.” Joe walks off smiling.

“Soap, I said soap. Where’s soap?”

“It’s getting dark outside, too late to run by a store. Let’s open boxes till we find some.”

“Viola, dishwashing liquid”

“That will do.”

After showering, Lillian made the bed and lay down. Pookie hops on the bed and does his little night night growl.

Joe is walking through the house turning off lights. It gets darker and darker. A bright glow comes through the bedroom window.

Somebody’s out there Joe.

Joe lies next to her. “Pookies not barking. Moon light is bright."

Humorous Poems

The master was Shel Silverstein. I liked Johnny Cash's rendition.

A Boy Named Sue by Shel Silverstein

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of booze.
Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
but the meanest thing that he ever did was
before he left he went and named me Sue.

Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,
it seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.
My fist got hard and my wits got keen.
Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,
but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,
I'd search the honky tonks and bars and kill
that man that gave me that awful name.

But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had
just hit town and my throat was dry.
I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon in a street of mud
and at a table dealing stud sat the dirty,
mangy dog that named me Sue.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
from a worn-out picture that my mother had
and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old
and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,
and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?
Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down
but to my surprise he came up with a knife
and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair
right across his teeth. And we crashed through
the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging
in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when.
He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',
he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.
He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.

And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if
a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.
I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's
that name that helped to make you strong."

Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one
helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've
got the right to kill me now and I wouldn't blame you
if you do. But you ought to thank me
before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit
in your eye because I'm the nut that named you Sue."
Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,
called him pa and he called me a son,
and I came away with a different point of view
and I think about him now and then.
Every time I tried, every time I win and if I
ever have a son I think I am gonna name him
Bill or George - anything but Sue.

Gerry

Gerry’s dreadlocks fall below his shoulders. With a new tattoo on his ass and the west coast rave clothes, he might be 42 but he is still cool.  He thought about putting a teardrop under his eye but the old man said he would cut him off from his funds if he got a tattoo on his face.

Just a regular trustafarian peacock at a prominent film festival, Gerry goes to any party he wants. It is late in the evening, Thursday night, and the party is slow. Some crazy fools get up in the morning to watch films. 

Gerry and his crew watch the end of the night movie and then PARTEH! All the players, hangers, climbers, backstabbers, lovers, haters, dancers, singers, you name it show what they got to one another.

In walks this redneck, the crowd is already subdued and the background noise drops another decibel. Sandy red hair cropped short, reddened skin, a beak of a nose untouched by a scalpel, his blue green eyes contract as if absorbing all that he sees. 

"Alright folks, what did you think?” the man says.

The hot chick sitting to Gerry's left hops off the bar stools and sashays to the rube. Gerry had his eye on her. He had turned and winked at her and got a little smile. When he finished scanning the crowd, he was going to talk to her. If she could hold her own with Gerry, he was going to take her home for the night.

The server walks past him to the rustic yokel.

A clean-cut black dude walks in with a woman who is probably his wife. She is wearing a corsage. Is this an alien invasion or 1956? You would think they could spend a little money on clothes.

“How did you get invited to this party?” Gerry bellows as he swaggers up to the odd group.

“Make a good movie and if the sun is shining bright, a door will open for you boy.”