The Rainbow’s End

Posted on July 10, 2023 by hdh

The Rainbow’s End

“You know it’s there,” he said. “Let’s go and find it.”

This was unknown territory for me, and I wasn’t sure hunting down the end of the rainbow was such a good idea.

But in front of us, what looked to be a clear path leading through some trees, was that beautiful arc of a rainbow in all its colors. 

“I don’t know,” I said, “based on my knowledge of folktales, rainbows and tricksters can lead to very dangerous situations.” 

“I’m sure it is safe; rainbows always have a spot where they end. How hard could it be, you can see it right there. And if we find one of those leprething people, we will get their pot of gold. What could possibly go wrong?”

After years of being friends with Ronald, you would think that I would have learned not to listen to his ideas. However, I’m a slow learner when it comes to Ronald.

So I agreed, and we set off down the path toward the other side of the rainbow. “By the way,” I said to him, “they are called leprechauns.”

Ronald had me lead the way. He stayed far enough back. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you,” he said, “I’m just setting up my camera to take pictures of our success.”

We walked to the end of the path and slowly made our way through the wooded area beyond. As we entered the clearing, the rainbow was in full view; believe it or not, a small man was standing right at the base of it. 

I should have been suspicious, as rainbows, in my experience, usually fade away over time, and this one seemed pretty fixed in position. And something was wrong with the colors. I expected an order of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. The colors were there, but they were not in the correct order. 

“THERE HE IS!” screamed Ronald, “the Leprodoodle guy. Quick, go catch him.”

“Why don’t you catch him?” I replied.

“Because I’m taking the pictures. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back here,” was his response.

Throwing caution to the wind, I snuck up to the little man as his back was to me. He hadn’t heard Ronald’s scream. The closer I got, the less little he looked. When I reached him, he was about an inch taller than me. He was dressed in green, had a red beard, and wore gloves. He was putting a fake bush in front of a machine, which appeared to be generating the rainbow. 

Having heard me, the man turned quickly and placed a big cauldron on the ground. 

“Who are you?” I asked, “And what do you think you are doing?”

That’s when I heard the sirens. Without saying a word, the man picked up the cauldron, put it in my hands, pulled it away, placed it back on the ground, and handed me a stack of papers and a key. He then turned and ran off into the woods in the opposite direction. 

I stood there wondering what had just happened. I turned to see where Ronald was; he was nowhere in sight. I did see several individuals rushing at me with guns drawn, screaming, “Drop whatever is in your hands, get down on the ground, and put your hands behind your back.

 I was arrested and charged with larceny, fraud, trespass, and other crimes. The man who ran away was running a rainbow phishing scam. He had stolen the rainbow generator and posed as a pot of gold agent for leprechauns. He would offer to those gullible end-of-rainbow seekers guaranteed full pots of gold without having to catch a leprechaun and dealing with all their trickery. His contract stated that the pot of gold would be worth millions. It only cost those who signed up a mere $3,000 in cash. The pot of gold would be delivered anonymously to their homes.

Of course, once he had the money, the rainbow and the agent would disappear, moving on to show up in another town. 

It didn’t help my case that I was the only one standing there when I was arrested, with both the contracts and the key to the rainbow generator in my hand. There were also my fingerprints on the cauldron. As for Ronald, he didn’t come forward to attest to my innocence. Which was probably for the best, as his credibility was not rated highly by the police. He told me later that his camera battery had died, and he went to get it recharged.

A lawyer and the capture of the real crook got my release, and the charges were dropped. 

So be wary of trying to find the gold at the rainbow’s end. At least make sure the colors are in the right order before you try. 

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B.U.G.S.

Posted on June 30, 2023 by hdh

B.U.G.S.

“Duh Bwainless Union of Gung-ho Simp-wetons meetin’ is now cawwed to owdew,” union president, Elmer Fudd, shouted.  “Aw gwest speaker fow this evenin’ is Mistaw Magoo,  head of ouw insuwance company.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” replied Mr. Magoo. “You really should put on more weight Fudd, You’re as thin as a pole. I thought you said there would be more people here. The place is empty.” 

An attendant from the side of the stage moved Magoo from in front of an empty mic stand and turned him around so that he wasn’t facing the empty stage. 

“Heh, Heh, Heh. Thought you could fool me with the hidden audience trick,” Magoo called out. 

Facing a set of music stands in the pit now, Magoo calls out, “So what does everyone here want to know about insurance? Don’t just stand there, speak up!” 

From the audience, Wil E. Coyote calls out. “I want to know how much your company makes from the Acme Anvil company.”

“And confound it, What’s that crazy rabbit’s deal,” yelled Yosemite Sam.

“And same goes for moose and squirrel,” Boris Badinov said. 

Soon everyone was jumping up and down and screaming, complaining about all the supposed accidents they had claims for. Yet, they all agreed that the birds, the mice, carrot-toting rabbits, the daffy ducks, the moose and the squirrel always got the best deals. 

They claimed they were being set up to have accidents and should be getting more from the insurance company rather than funneling all the money to the cute ones and the insurance company. 

“We’ve got to eat too, thufferin’ thuccotash!” Sylvester the cat screamed. 

Natasha Fatale sitting in the front with Boris Badinov, turned to him and said, “I dink zis Magoo ees a fool, dahlink.”

“What a lovely audience,” replied Mr. Magoo. “I just love to listen to groups that are happy with our company. I will definitely leave now and get started on building that pool.”

Instead of leaving by the stairs in front of the stage, Mr. Magoo starts climbing the side stairs up to the rafters. In walking across the rafters, thinking he’s closing the curtains behind him, he manages to untie the ropes to the massive chandeliers hanging over the complainers. 

Below, just before impact, is heard a plaintiff “Thufferin’ Thuccotash!” After which comes a loud crash.

Mr. Magoo, having left the Brainless Union of Gung-ho Simpletons meeting, moves on to his next stop, the Do the Write Thing writing workshop, where he was told he has to speak about Riding Tromps.

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Recognition

Posted on June 21, 2023 by hdh

Recognition 

I was never a great athlete, though I enjoyed participating in sports. Growing up in my neighborhood with my few friends, I wasn’t a bad player. I could hold my own when we played together, and though I wasn’t the best player on the field, I was above the average player in my small local group.

Then I got involved in team sports. Now, being among more elite players, I was not the chosen one. In Little League, I remember batting .000. I either struck out or walked. Anything I hit was usually caught. I wasn’t even put in the game when we made the playoffs. Though my father came to some of my games, he was looking for an athlete just like he envisioned himself to be when he was younger. He always claimed that he played soccer for the German National Team as a young adult in Germany. (A claim that I have never been able to verify). I did not fit that image, so I was somewhat of a disappointment to him, I guess. 

 At school, I was always one of the players picked last because of my height (I was small) and lack of skills compared to other kids I played with.

Enter Ice Hockey at age 15, where I was placed in the league below my age group. I thought I should have played better than others because of my age difference. I didn’t. 

Then came college. In college, I didn’t do too badly on the intramural teams I played on. I quarterbacked in touch football and held my own in soccer, though I did get winded fast. I drifted to playing goalie, where running wasn’t as important. There, my handicap was my height and my lack of forceful kicking ability. 

I was also part of Stony Brook University’s first ice hockey team. Being one of the few players, initially, that could skate backwards, I was given the position of assistant captain. That lasted one year, after which many other players surpassed my abilities. After three years on the team, my career stats were one goal and three assists. 

Following college, I occasionally played some pickup hockey games in New Jersey with a friend of my brother-in-law. These games were late at night, so I would stay at my sister’s house and go to the games myself. No one came to watch me. No one on the team I played for knew who I was except the friend of my brother-in-law. One game stands out in my memory. I guess the other team that we played against wasn’t very good. We won the game by a score of 12 – 3. I scored 5 of those goals, and I scored them in different ways – wrist-shot, slapshot, on breakaways, etc. I couldn’t believe how well I played. I felt on top of the world. When I went back to my sister’s house, everyone was asleep. The next day my brother-in-law asked me how the game was. I said, “I scored five goals.” He, too, was very impressed. I wanted that feeling to remain, which it did for a few days. 

Later in life, I did play more sports. This time I was better than I was as a kid. I played tennis, soccer, and softball. I had a lot more experience. I enjoyed playing, but it never gave me the same feeling as in that hockey game.

As a side note, when I was 28 years old, my father wasn’t doing so well health-wise. I would call him periodically to see how he was doing. I’m not sure how we got onto the sports conversation, but in one conversation, I was talking about something I had done (at that time, it would probably have been indoor soccer, in which I played goalie for an adult team). He told me that Leslie, one of my sisters, and I were the only athletes in the family.

My eyes started to fill with tears. It was a very emotional moment for me. Realizing that my father actually did accept me as an athlete, no matter how I performed, was important to me. He acknowledged it for the first time, and I needed to hear it from him. That, too, was a feeling I wanted to keep forever. If only life were always like that.

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A Bedtime Story

Posted on June 15, 2023 by hdh

A Bedtime Story

“It’s time to go to bed,” he said.

“But I don’t want to go to bed,” his child replied.

“If you go to bed now,” he said, “I will tell you a story.”

She scoffed, “But you always read me the same stories. They’re boring.”

“You weren’t listening,” he said, “I said I would tell you a story.”

“What’s the difference?” she replied, knowing that it would delay having to go to bed if she could keep him talking. 

But he was not to be tricked, “Too bad, I’m going to your bedroom to tell a story. If you’re not there, I guess you’ll miss it.”

She was not prepared for this, especially when her dad got up and went into her bedroom, and she heard him start to talk. 

“Once, a long time ago, there was a girl named Alice.” 

As she inched towards the door, it began to close. “Wait!” she screamed, ran into the room, and jumped into bed. “Now you can go on.”

He continued, “Alice, it would seem, had a lot of trouble sleeping. That was until the night she found the magic hidden in her pillow.”

“What kind of magic?” asked his child, whose name was also Alice. 

“What kind of magic, do you think?” he asked. 

Alice thought awhile and said, “Magic that could make her fly to fairyland.”

Her dad continued, “It was magic that could take her away to fairyland. And who do you think she found there?”

Alice didn’t waste a moment, “It was the king and queen of all the fairies.”

Her dad continued. “There, she found the king and queen of all the fairies. They both said at once. Why Princess Alice, we are so glad to see you here. We’ve been wondering where you were. We were thinking of going on an adventure.”

“What are they going to do,” Alice, his child, asked. As excited as she was to hear this story, he noticed that her tired eyes were beginning to close.

He continued, “They are going on a great adventure, of course. But that adventure takes a lot of planning, and Alice, who had been playing all day, was getting too tired to help plan. So she asked if the king and queen could wait until the next day to plan it out because she had some ideas on what should be done.”

“That’s very smart of her,” Alice, the child, yawned. 

“Then I guess we better stop the story here,” her father said, “and let everybody rest so they get a fresh start tomorrow.”

His child would have agreed; however, her eyes had already closed. He put the cover on her, kissed her good night, turned off the light, and let Alice plan all the adventures she had in store for the next night. 

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The Child

Posted on June 10, 2023 by hdh

The Child

“Help me, please!” was the plaintive cry from the small girl. 

Jeremy was standing nearby watching the child amidst a crowded mall, and no one noticed her. 

Sure, people looked at her in her shabby clothes and hesitant speech, but each, in turn, went on with their shopping and chatting with each other without even thinking about addressing her call for help. 

Jeremy, himself was not the most popular person in his neighborhood. He was the outcast, the different one. He had his quirks and had lots of fears when dealing with others, the neurotypicals as they were called. But a cry for help from a child?

Jeremy tried to focus. He breathed deeply. This sometimes helped. He slowly walked towards the child.

As he approached, the girl looked up at him. As their eyes met, some connection was formed. He understood her, and she understood him. Without any expectation, Jeremy bent down and hesitantly put out his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

With similar hesitancy, the girl reached out, placed her hand in Jeremy’s, and sobbed, “I don’t know where I am?”

It took a while for Jeremy and Chloe (which was the girl’s name) to uncover the whole story. 

Chloe had been taken to the mall and then abandoned. Whoever did that seemed tired of supporting a child as unique as Chloe. 

Jeremy didn’t quite know what to do. He managed to find a security guard. Explaining the story was difficult for Jeremy. Despite his willingness to communicate with Chloe, talking to unknown adults was not a skill he had. 

The guard took them both to the security office and called Child Protective Services. 

Chloe was taken away, and Jeremy was allowed to follow and maintain contact with Chloe through this ordeal and when she was eventually fostered out to another family. 

Though Jeremy felt positive about what he did, he hoped he never had to do that again. 

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The Meaning of Happiness

Posted on June 8, 2023 by hdh

The Meaning of Happiness

It’s Saturday night, and I’m in charge of supper, but I don’t know what to make. When I asked my family, they all suggested cooking whatever makes you happy. 

That is a big order. There are lots of things that make me happy. Let me think…

Definitely, being with my wife and child and going on walks and doing things together certainly makes me happy. 

Watching my favorite teams win games is pleasurable. 

Staying healthy always makes me happy, though lately, that hasn’t always been easy. 

Of course, certain foods make me happy: lasagna, chocolate, cream cheese and lox on a whole wheat bagel, and ice cream, most of which I’m not supposed to eat anymore due to my heart-healthy diet. 

But how do you make any of those into a supper? Maybe they meant I should cook whatever makes them happy.

That, of course, raises a different set of criteria. I know my wife wants to do a lot of traveling. And my child doesn’t live with us, so I’m not sure what makes them happy other than understanding more about their world and where they fit in. 

How do you cook any of that?

But my job is to make tonight’s dinner…

 

I know this is a cop-out, but I think I’ve figured out what to do — 

Tonight I’m going to order dinner out. There is a nice French restaurant that I know delivers. It also has a location right near where my child lives. 

They make some incredible soups and entrees; I can order some of those; one of them is called Faux-cau-vin. It’s like Coq au vin, but without the chicken, it uses beans instead. It’s really good. That covers foods that make me happy. Hopefully, that covers the traveling part for now, after the food must have originated from France. 

 

I’ll arrange for the deliveries to happen at the same time around dinner, where we can Facetime and be together, like in the old days, making us all happy. 

 

And to top off the meal, I promise not to bring up any political discussions, only family stuff about what we mean to each other. The thing that makes us all feel the happiest. 

Tomorrow’s my wife’s turn. I wonder how she is going to top that.

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100 Words – an exercise in writing

Posted on June 6, 2023 by hdh

100 Words Exercise

from: The art of brevity. by Grant Faulkner

Here’s the assignment: Write a one-hundred-word story. No more, no less.

———–

I left disgruntled. I had trouble dealing with the rough play and attitude of the crowd and of the opposing players. I’m tired of the homophobic and racist behavior targeting our team.

I drove in front of the team bus. Having crossed the bridge leading back home, I heard the crack sound of an automatic rifle, then the bridge exploded. I was horrified, turned, and watched the team bus, with all its players and fans fall to their deaths.

This was not a random act. This was a targeted assault meant to eliminate our team because of who they were. 

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Happy Talk

Posted on May 31, 2023 by hdh

Happy Talk

I am an optimistic person who looks for the positive in things. I acknowledge the negatives, which I balance against the positives when making decisions and reacting to others. 

I worked for an administrator who graduated from the school of thought that you must always play up the positives. It was the only way to build self-esteem in students and teachers. 

Every year I came into his office for my yearly evaluation, he always started with how wonderful I was. Everything I did was great. But it didn’t end there. Before I left his office, my faults and things he wanted to see changed were brought up. 

Where my praises flowed out of his mouth, my faults were very direct and clearly the intention of what he really wanted from this meeting. 

Happy, positive talk is one thing, but for it to be part of a pattern of setting me up for a fall is disingenuous, especially when he hadn’t observed most of the things he was giving me positive feedback about.  

Towards the end of my career, I changed my tactics at these meetings. I would go into the meeting and say, “Let’s start with the but.” You know what I mean, “I am a wonderful person who does all of these wonderful things; I am great, and everyone loves me, but here’s what you really want to discuss about me. Start with the but.” 

It never worked. I guess once one is fixated on building someone up with happy, thoughtless talk before they become truthful with you, they don’t change. That’s very sad.
I do not profess that you should be bitterly forthright in discussions with others from the get-go. But to always have a pattern of happy talking to everyone and being falsely super positive all of the time makes real praise meaningless. It sounds rote. It sounds like you’re saying it because you have to. It’s not the real you.

 

You know everything you do is great. You’re a wonderful person. Everyone loves you. There are so many things you do well. (well, nothing comes to mind right now, but I’m sure there are things.) Blah, blah, blah, but…

 

Be honest with yourself and others. Be willing to listen and accept change. Show compassion and empathy. Be positive, real, and sincere. Don’t make what you say to others become habit and predictable; that’s not how you gain respect and trust.

 

It’s been a pleasure sharing this with you. Come back soon. 

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The Time Capsule

Posted on May 23, 2023 by hdh

The Time Capsule

It had been 50 years since I graduated from Stony Brook University. The time had come to visit my old alma mater. I’d returned to Stony Brook University many times since graduating, but this day was different. This was the 50th anniversary of the burying of the time capsule. 

My friends and I had decided that on graduating day, we would put together some of the remembrances of our 4 years there and bury them in closed boxes somewhere on campus that had meaning for us. We didn’t share where we were burying this box with anyone else. We never planned on meeting up; we just hoped that we would remember where we buried our own memories so that we could dig them up by ourselves. We were sure we wouldn’t be in contact with each other 50 years after graduating.

I chose to bury my capsule on the grounds of Benedict College, where I had spent most of my time in the dorm and having meals. Surprisingly enough, with all the new buildings and renovations that had occurred over the past 50 years at Stony Brook, Benedict College stood exactly the same way it had been back in 1972. It was easy to find the spot where I had buried my treasure. 

I waited until dark when I could not be seen digging a hole in the ground. I didn’t have to dig far. Two feet down, I hit a hard object. I dug around the object, pulled it to the surface, filled my hole, threw what I had found into my car, and drove home. 

The funny thing about time capsules is that they are supposed to contain objects and memorabilia from your past. After all, you were the one that put it there. And this sure looked like my box. But the locking mechanism was different. First of all, I don’t remember putting a lock on it. And it wasn’t a combination or key lock. It had a place on the front of the box where I could put my hand, but no other way I could see to open it. 

Being curious, I placed my hand on the spot where my hand fit, and it opened. I slowly lifted the lid. It looked like the box I had buried, but nothing I had put in it was there. I did recognize the handwriting on the letter that was in the box. It was my own handwriting. It read:

Hey Harvey,

Sorry for swapping out the junk we put into this box in 1972. But I thought you would prefer to see where you are going rather than where you’ve been. I mean, who cares about old records and pictures of your hockey team (they never won anything anyway, besides you quit the team after the cheating scandal)? As for your college ID, you are welcome to it.

Don’t worry about your health. You’ll have some issues in 2023, but within a few years, they will create some awesome organic/android hybrid parts that, trust me, you’ll live forever.

Instead, I put some of your real accomplishments from here in the 2050s.

Enjoy a copy of your first novel. I added an old-time DVD of your interview with the President and when you received the medal of honor to play on the equipment you have available in 2022.

You’ve got a lot to look forward to, Christina and David, too. I’ll let you learn about those things on your own. Enjoy.

I’ll be seeing you…or should I say, I’ll be being you. Either way, you might want to look out for some of my other future presents that I buried in different spots for you. You’ve still got a lot to learn.

Your self,

Me

May 25, 2050

What the…!

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Lost or Found

Posted on May 19, 2023 by hdh

Lost or Found

 

I’m lost. I know where I’m supposed to be, but everything here looks different. 

Let me backtrack a bit for you. I was supposed to meet a friend at 2:30 at the corner of 5th and Main. We had agreed to meet there before joining our class on the field trip to the museum. The museum was the newly opened Museum of Supernatural and Unexplained Phenomenon. We had been looking forward to seeing this museum since it opened a month ago. 

Instead of taking the school bus, my friend and I agreed to meet and walk to the museum together. We both hated school bus rides. 

So here I am at what I thought was 5th and Main, and there is no sign of my friend. But something looks wrong. For one thing, the signs where it says 5th and Main are not written in the same font as all the other signs in the streets I’ve passed. And for another, there’s no traffic on what should be a well-traveled thoroughfare. There is no sign of my friend, who is known for being punctual. 

So I’m guessing that I’m lost. I must have mixed up something about where we were meeting in my friend’s directions. I decide to walk to the museum myself, hoping to meet everyone. Maybe they can explain what’s going on. 

As I near the museum, I notice another anomaly. Instead of a large modern building that should house the museum, there is a small shack with a hand-painted sign stating “Museum of Supernatural and Unexplained Phenomenon” and “Enter at your own risk!”

Okay, I ask you, if this is what happened to you, what would you do? Go back home right away. Pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. Go through the door and find out what is on the inside.

If you know anything about me, you’ll know that my curiosity as a storyteller and writer compels me to enter the shack. 

I open the door and stare inside. All that is visible is a long, endless hallway. There appear to be multiple side doors to choose from throughout the hallway and faint images or shadows moving about. 

Throwing caution to the wind, I take a deep breath and step through the door…

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