The light in my refrigerator has been out now for many weeks. The light can stay out for all I care. Without it, I don’t have to decide what needs to stay or go. I just grab what’s in it and hope for the best.
Ate a frozen dinner last night. It wasn’t frozen when I ate it—you know what I mean. I ate it with a spoon. All the forks were dirty. I need more forks.
I remember my twin brother falling off a hay wagon once; we were probably nine or ten. His head was almost rolled over by a front wheel of the wagon. I jumped down and moved his head away—probably the most heroic thing I’ve ever done. He hurt his ankle, but he never told our parents. I understood that. They would have been mad and upset. It healed on its own. It was his left ankle.
My hair is getting too long again. People tell me I look younger when my hair is shorter but lately I feel like looking older because it’s the way I feel.
My mother made the best fried chicken in the world and made it almost up until the day she died. It makes me sad that I’ll ever taste fried chicken like that again.
My father was a hard working man but he didn’t even know how to make a sandwich for himself and didn’t know how to dial a phone. People dialed phones back in those days. He counted on my mother for sandwiches and phone calls. This was always a joke to me, but maybe it shouldn’t have been.
Towards the end of her life, my grandmother walked with a cane. Now, I do too. Sometimes, I wonder what she would think of this. She would probably give me hers.
My grandfather, on my mother’s side, died on my 12th birthday. He died May 1, 1967. On my birthday, I always think of him. On most other days, I think of him too.
It seemed like my mother always experienced health problems, even when I was little. I think when I was five or six; I got into my head that she was going to die. I got so worried about it; I finally approached her and asked her. She seemed touched by this and explained she was hoping to get well. She never really did, but stayed around for several more decades.
Last night as I slept, I had a number of good dreams. The next morning is always much better when this happens. It gives me something to think about as I drink my morning coffee.
On the outside door to my bathroom, I have a Patty Griffin “1000 Kisses” poster that I got at her concert at Southgate House back in 2000. I went with my friend Greg Flannery and had a wonderful time. I remember Greg getting hit on the nose with the opening of the restroom door as he was trying to enter it. It was funny as hell. I could try to describe this better, but you really had to be there.
Greg and I met at CityBeat in the summer or 2000. This was back when CityBeat had small offices at 7th and Vine in downtown Cincinnati. The furniture was old, computers held together with duct tape and we were all on top of each other. I loved it. Then the paper bought its own building and we moved to Race Street with three floors, new desks and chairs and newer computers. It never felt the same to me after that. The grit was gone.
While growing up, my mother never wore pants or slacks. I think this was because of religious reasons and/or because of her mother. When her mother died, she started wearing pants or slacks. Maybe religion had nothing to do with it.
My Uncle Louis would always say, “I never get hungry,” but whenever he came over for a meal, he would always eat a bunch.
His wife’s name was Bessie. Uncle Louis and Aunt Bessie were on my mother’s side of the family. On my father’s side, I also had an Aunt Bessie.
My twin brother, who is in my past, is still very much in my present. I think of him almost every day.
I don’t believe in miracles. A person does what they can to make the present better but as a person gets older, sometimes they get more scared and afraid and it affects what they do, how they handle the present – at least for me. As for the past, it’s done. No miracles will ever bring it back. I’m not even going to think or talk about the future. Call it the “Afraid factor.”
Don’t try to make sense of this post; don’t think I’m looking for a miracle to make it any better because I can’t and/or won’t. It is what it is. Maybe that’s life—past and present (and maybe future).
(Image from simondrax.com)