A Lesson Passed On

Posted on August 19, 2021 by hdh

A Lesson Passed On

Old Hark lay in his bed, thinking about who he was. He had been a hard worker, had married the woman of his dreams, and raised a family, a boy and a girl. The children would grow up and have families of their own someday. He wasn’t rich, in a monetary sense, however, he was rich in spirit. He had earned enough money over time to live comfortably, not decadently. But the end of his timeline was approaching. He knew it, his family knew it, as did his friends and neighbors. 

Not having much in the way of material objects or money to pass on to those he left behind, he needed to think of something to leave them with. A number of his friends had made secret videos of themselves that were to be shared with their families upon their death. Hark was not a secretive person though. If something was important to share with someone, he just shared it. The best thing about sharing something told with someone else was watching their reaction and seeing if they understood what they were being told. But the idea of leaving a video did intrigue him, so this is what he did: 

Old Hark called his son, daughter, and wife to his bedside. He had a video camera set up which was to record everything he would say. But instead of it being shown upon his death, it was being recorded with all of them present. 

They all gathered around him as he spoke these words:

“As I’m about to take my leave of you, I need you to think about who you all are. Are you strong, independently thinking people? I believe you are. Do you care for yourselves and others, through kindness and empathy for all living things? In my opinion, this is also true.  Even though you are independent, you still look out for each other and support one another. Your care for me, for the poor and downtrodden, and the world we live in, is evidence of your compassion.

These are all great qualities and serve you well. 

Note, you have all faced adversity and become stronger for it. Your quest for knowledge is boundless as is the curiosity deep within you that drives your learning. You seek not power, but peace. 

It is my hope that my love and teachings have had some part in this. For that is what I leave with you when I’m gone. Yes, remember the times we spent together. The joys we had and the places we saw. Yes, recall the stories we told and the songs we sang. The pictures we took will always be there to remind you of times gone by. But remember also who you are. What you are capable of accomplishing, And that part of me will always be in there with you. 

Remember me for who I was, who I am, and that part of me that is you. If you can do that then there will be no need to grieve, for I will not be gone. 

If you feel you are losing faith in yourself, or not capable of moving on in an endeavor, then play this video again. I’ll be there to remind you that, ‘Yes you can.’

Love is boundless. It traverses both life and death. I will always love you and will never let you down.”

At this point, the video camera was turned off. They came together and hugged one another. Old Hark had shared what needed to be shared. Copies of the video were digitized and share with each family member. Two weeks later, Old Hark passed on. 

Some people might take a video like that and store it away in a secure vault, with wills and other important documents, never to be looked at again. Some might just toss the video onto a pile of other videos and over time forget all about it. But Old Hark’s family was different. His video was always placed in full view of anyone that visited their home so that visitors would ask about it. He would not be forgotten. And as his son and daughter grew up and had families of their own, Hark’s video was not only visibly displayed as a reminder of what he had said to them that day but also played to reinforce that which he had shared with them. And to honor that part of him that was still with them all. 

I would not be surprised if it continues to be shared with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren and so on. For everything he said was a message for us all. Always remember the good of who you are and never forget those that came before, that contributed the building blocks of the good person you became.

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Where’s 13?

Posted on August 16, 2021 by hdh

Where’s 13?

Why is it that in a number of tall buildings, when you go into an elevator, there is rarely a 13th-floor button to push? It usually skips from 12 to 14. Does that mean there is a 13th floor and no one is allowed to go there? What clandestine group has commandeered that floor and what are their nefarious plans? 

It’s easy to test the theory out as to whether there is a 13th floor or not. All you need is a stopwatch and make sure you are able to see the floor numbers as you pass them. The time between floors should be equal. So if there is a longer lag between the 12th and 14th floor, then there is something in between. You can also count windows from the ground outside and see if the number of floors matches the number of choices in an elevator. 

Once you have determined that there is this so-called 13th floor. Your next task, if you are daring enough, is to find out what goes on there. Not an easy task. 

One way is to get out on the 12th floor and try to find the stair alternative. Once you’ve found the stairs, just walk up one flight. Logically it should be 13. Having established that there is a 13th-floor through my timing method, if there are two flights of steps going to the next floor, then I would suggest there is something ominous going on and there is a secret entrance to that floor. This would also be the case if there was a door, but it needed a security badge or some other retina scan in order to open it. 

Then there’s the old pretending you’re a window washer and using scaffolding to get yourself up to the 13th floor from the outside. This requires more planning, equipment, permits (usually), and no fear of heights. This would allow you to look through the window to see what is going on, that is unless the windows are shaded or blocked, which in the case of a clandestine operation, they probably would be. 

Modern technology might make this a little simpler, just by using a drone. This method would probably be more obvious to an onlooker. Your task, however, is to be less apparent. 

You could always try a fire alarm approach. Pull one and just try to sneak in while everyone is running out. This method doesn’t give you very much time to explore. 

Assuming the reason there is no access to this floor is clandestine and dangerous, you might also want to have a good health insurance plan.

Then again, the reason there is no 13th floor might just be due to the superstition and paranoia of the owners or builders. In that case, there is nothing to explore.

Personally, if I was trying to create a secret operation and needed a whole floor to put it on, I would find a building that has no 13th floor, put my organization on the 14th floor (knowing, in reality, it is the 13th floor) and put in all the security options preventing others from accessing it. I mean, who’s going to be curious about the 14th floor? Nothing special about that.

Oops, I think I just gave away something I wasn’t supposed to talk about. I’m told I signed some sort of non-disclosure paper. Forget what I wrote. In tall buildings with multiple floors, there is no reason to explore what’s on the 14th floor. Nobody goes there. 

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This is what it costs

Posted on August 13, 2021 by hdh

This is what it costs

 “This is what it costs!” was the expected answer whenever I wanted something. 

“Mom, can I get this comic book?” I’d ask.

“This is what it costs?” she’d ask with a questioning glance as she gazed at the price tag on the cover. This was usually followed by, “And who’s going to pay for it?”

 At this point, I knew it was useless to continue. The answer that that question inevitably would turn out to be me. 

The internal question that I had to ask myself, was then, “Do I really want that comic book?” Though the answer in my head was yes, I was beginning to understand that purchasing said comic book, meant I was that much poorer in the money to spend account. 

Occasionally when my mother wasn’t around and I was with friends, money wasn’t an issue. Distraction and thievery worked more efficiently. It wasn’t my fault that the comic books were close to the door of the store. I only resorted to that once or twice and could never take the said item home for fear of being caught. 

When weighing the non-monetary cost versus the guilt that I felt for doing something bad, guilt always won out. And still does today. 

As I grew older, “This is what it costs?” became more of an angry question/statement than an inquisitive one. I wanted to purchase some Air Jordan sneakers. I’d look in the store window and “ARE YOU KIDDING ME, THIS IS WHAT IT COSTS? ” Needless to say, no purchase was made. Converse or Keds would have to do.

Now that I’m an adult, “This is what it costs.” comes out more as a blah statement of fact. Usually, it is appended with the words “on this site”. As we all know you can’t just shop at one store or website to buy anything. Yes, you can get a lot on Amazon, and shop at major shopping clubs such as Cosco, and B.J.s, but before you can purchase anything, you need to know you’re getting the best price. You can also use Apps such as Honey to price search for you, which is probably why the saying is now, “This is what it costs on …” 

Finances usually not being an issue, which they were as a child and young adult, this means your decisions are not cut and dry anymore. When you were young, if you didn’t want to spend the money, you just didn’t purchase the item. “This is the price” – “Yes” or “No”.

Now, unfortunately, because there are so many ways to get what you want, at so many different prices, you can’t make up your mind. What used to be a simple cost/item/place to purchase decision, becomes an endless search for answers. No wonder so many people today, me included, have trouble making everyday decisions. 

All I can say is that this is what you get with progress. Things become easier to produce, it should be easier to accomplish tasks, it’s certainly easier to pay for things, and acquire the best that you can buy for less; however, having gotten to that point it takes you more time to decide. And as my mom used to say, “This is what it costs.”

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Tales from the Pub

Posted on August 11, 2021 by hdh

Tales from the Pub

To all my readers,

Many are the tales from our local pubs. Each establishment has stories to tell. But a pub is a pub. Aren’t all pub stories shared the same? I’ll let you be the judge of that. 

It was a warm and musty Saturday afternoon in Andersen Town last week, usually a time for the locals to visit their favorite drinking establishment and share the events of the week with each other. And that’s exactly what happened.

Old Grimm’s Tavern was having a hard time keeping customers. In fact, if it lost any more, it would have to be shut down. The magic that filled the tavern in its bygone days all but disappeared. All people did was complain; there was rarely a happy ending. Today was no different. Into the Tavern walked a troll, a giant, and a wolf. They sat at the bar, ordered their regular swill, and then the complaints began. 

“You know, you try to be nice and give a family discount for crossing the bridge and you get the old pass it on to the guy behind me game,” said the troll. “You know, I offer to sweeten it up, like the fee and all, to cross the bridge and they tell me ‘Oh, you don’t want me, my older brother will pay you.” Twice this happened this week. I’m still waiting for the big brother. Let’s see if he has the horns to pull the same stunt on me.”

The giant jumped in, “I know exactly what you mean. My wife is just too kind to strangers. She invites this kid in, from who knows where, feeds him, gives him a tour of the house, and the next thing I know I’m missing all my petty cash and my prize goose, that goose was the best layer I ever had. If he tries that scam again, I hope the police nab him before somebody’s bones get broken.”

“Try being a building inspector,” moaned the wolf. “You try to give advice to these piggish home builders and what do you get? Absolutely nothing. I mean, who builds a house out of just straw or sticks and expects it to pass inspection. I told them both that all it would take is a little puff to blow their houses down, which it did. I get to see the third hog next. He at least built his house out of bricks. I just hope he had the sense to make sure the chimney isn’t too wide. I hate climbing down chimneys to prove them wrong.”

And so it went. They came, they drank, they complained, and then left. 

Meanwhile across town, there was “Aesop’s Tables”. This was a very popular bar. Unfortunately, the clientele there were more on the shady side of the law, still, it did well. Interestingly enough, today a trio of characters also walked into that bar. There was a goat named Billy, a boy named Jack, and a Pig named Piglittle the third. They sat down at their usual places at the bar, ordered their Jameson’s, and began to chat about their upcoming events. 

“My brothers and I have a great scam going,” bragged Billy rather gruffly. “They wheedle their way across the bridge to the other side and set it up so that I’m the one that’s supposed to pay the fee to the troll for all of us. When I refuse to pay, if he’s not already shaking in his boots, seeing what a big goat I am, I just bump him off. No one is the wiser and we get that sweet-smelling grass. You know how many times we’ve pulled this off. We’ve got the law on our side too, I keep telling the judge, that mean, ugly Troll yelled at me that he’d be eaten’ us up, so it was self-defense. They should be writing stories about us. ”

 Jack said, “The grass may be greener for you on the other side, but for me, the money is in the sky. I played the poor boy act twice now on this Giant lady. I swear her head is in the clouds, as well as her dumb husband. The old man knows I’m a stalker and keeps telling me I smell, but he is just too slow. It turns out he’s got a priceless Goldilocks 3 singing harp, which bears the signatures of the 3 who designed it. I plan on getting that one tonight. And if that giant tries to stop me again, he’s just axing for trouble. It’s easy to get off from the cops if you’re the little guy. I mean, would a little guy intentionally pick on a giant. It has to be the other way around.”

Piglittle just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “I tell you something boys if you want to get away with murder, just consume your victim. There’s this housing inspector that has been riding our butts about rules and regulations. My brothers’ houses weren’t up to code he says, then he blows the damn houses down to prove a point. Granted my brothers aren’t the smartest pigs in the pen, but they are my brothers. So I build this house out of brick and purposely make the chimney not conform to regs. I know from experience that if the inspector can fit down the chimney, it’s too big. So I make it wide enough and add a little silicone spray to the insides. When old wolfy decides to test its width and happens to slide down the chimney, it’s not my fault I have a vat of boiling water on the fire. We get a well-cooked meal and get rid of the evidence all in one fell swoop. No questions asked.”

They complimented each other’s plans, finished their drinks, and went on their way. 

Different pubs, different stories, or were they the same stories? They sure sounded similar to me. Turns out that the three from Grimm’s Tavern never returned to Old Grimm’s. The stories that were reported pretty much made the troll, giant, and wolf, out as the bad guys. I’m sure you must have seen their obits in the newspaper. In fact, the loss of those three customers was the death knell for that Tavern. It closed for good. Villagers said it was just too old-fashioned; what people wanted were more modern atmospheres and conversations. Like I said the magic of the past was gone.

As for Aesop’s Tables, it continued to prosper, mainly due to the fact that most of the money spent there by its numerous patrons was ill-gotten. It was a place with no morals. 

And that’s the honest truth or as much of it as this reporter could discern. Would I lie to you?   

             Respectfully submitted, 

                          P. Nocchio, ace reporter for the Andersen Town Times

-30-

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The Nose Knows

Posted on August 9, 2021 by hdh

The Nose Knows

It was said she could tell just by only the smell, who it was who had been there before

She made it real clear that that person was here as soon as she passed through the door

It was always a thrill when she showed off her skill and ID’ed who had caused all the pain.

What a wonderful sight, for she always was right, and she claimed that she just used her brain.

 

But the rest of us knew that it wasn’t quite true as the photo at birth clearly shows.

She was overly small, except that is not all, she was born with a very large nose.

It caused others fright to view such a sight in a child that was recently new

She would not be deterred, despite all that she heard, she grew up knowing just what to do

 

A nose that could feel everything that was real, as it wafted by right through the air

Be it roses or fish she’d confess if you wish what it was, and by who and point where.

And as she grew older she became even bolder and would challenge all those who would test.

Her remarkable skill, that gave her such a thrill. It was clear she was truly the best. 

 

If it musky or foul, she would show with a scowl, that some food that you had was just spoiled.

If a diaper was ripe, you had best get a wipe, for she’d warn you that something was soiled. 

She also gained powers, to identify flowers, in a bouquet she was given to sort

She could name every one which she did just for fun, all it took her was one single snort.

 

And then the day came, when they heard of her claim, that the FBI asked her to show

In a room filled with smog, could she out sniff a dog, If she did oh the places, she’d go.

Which is where she works still, catching criminals who kill, based on all that’s uncovered by smell.

She gets paid quite a lot for the skills that she’s got and her future is suiting her swell.

 

So take care all you folk, for I tell you no joke, if your face sports a very big nose.

For you never can know, what that bigness will show, as this story I’ve told does expose

Don’t think that you’re flawed, when you should feel quite awed, for the talents that you’ll have to sell, 

With the money you’ll get, all your life will be set and trust me, you’ll end up quite well. 

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Always Afraid

Posted on August 5, 2021 by hdh

Always Afraid

Being a pessimist and a worrywart has its upsides and downsides. If you always think that the worst will happen, you can never be disappointed. When the worst does happen you react with, “I knew that would happen.”

And, if the worst doesn’t occur, you get a boost of elation that things did work out. You react with, “Thank God, I can’t believe it happened that way.” Again, you are not disappointed for not having bad things happen which always produces good feelings. 

 It seems like a win/win situation to me. So what are the downsides?

The downsides of thinking about the worst thing happening occur during the times between your thought and the actual occurrence of the event that you were anticipating. That time period has a major effect on your health and disposition. People who worry constantly have trouble sleeping, are more prone to stress, have more physical ailments, and might even have some social interaction difficulties too. Who wants to interact with Debbie Downer all of the time. You want to be around people that lift your spirits not bring you down all of the time. All those Negative Nancys have trouble keeping relationships. That is unless they happen to know a Grumpy Gus, after all, misery does love company. 

Sometimes you don’t even know that you are worried or afraid of something happening. Your body knows, but either you are in denial or you’re just unaware of your subconscious thoughts, until one day when your brain has had enough and it signals your body to send up a red flag, usually in the form of pain somewhere…headache, stomach ache, high temperature, etc. 

Trust me, I know. After I had been teaching for about 10 years, I began to get sharp pains in my stomach/intestinal area. This went on for a few years. I had lots of tests run during that period and it was finally suggested that I had Irritable Bowel Syndrome. (Side note – when they bloat your intestines up with barium gas during a barium enema, and they say they are done and you can release the gas, doing a handstand in the bathroom, thinking that air rises, doesn’t make it go out any faster. Just sayin’). Anyway, I never connected the pain with school and teaching. It wasn’t until I had the opportunity to take a position in the district as a computer support teacher, where I didn’t have a class of my own, had no interactions with parents, or reports to write, that my IBS completely went away. And I must add, it has not returned.  

My stress, unacknowledged, and worries which I always wrote about had signaled my brain I’d had enough. Once I realized the cause of the pain, it went away,  and I went back into a classroom setting, I changed not only my outlook on my work but added more support systems within my social circles to both keep me more aware of what might be happening and even guide me at times. One less thing to worry about.

To me, the downsides of always thinking something bad will happen outweigh the upsides. That doesn’t mean that you should be unrealistic and feel overly positive about everything. Personally, I hate being around those kinds of people. The only time I want to think about what is the worst thing that can happen is when the worst thing that can happen isn’t the worst thing in the world and I can live with it. That, at least, lessens my worry. 

My advice is to be open about your concerns with trusted friends and family. Try to find the positive things that are happening in your life so that you don’t get overwhelmed with negative worries. If you’re going to be afraid of something, make sure it is real, like roller coasters, or crawly things on your back. And most of all – Be safe; Be well. 

 

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It’s About Time

Posted on August 4, 2021 by hdh

It’s About Time

Being a time historian has its inherent problems. First of all, if you don’t know the exact time of an event that you are studying, you can miss the time completely. There is no second chance. Once you’ve signed up for an event and put in the coordinates and time frame, that’s it. There are no do-overs. 

You get graded by the event you asked to research. You are not allowed to go back again to verify any claims, You need to stick it out for as long as necessary the first time. 

This works fine if you underestimate the time because you can just stay where you are for as long as it takes to get to the correct time. For some reason, I pushed the wrong date once for the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. I was a year and a half too early. So I just lived out the time there until he got shot. Being there earlier than expected did allow me to get great seats for the shooting, but it was an extra year and a half of my life, which I could have spent researching other things. 

Another rule that you have to follow is that you are not allowed to tamper with any event. This is very frustrating. Knowing that a certain person is going to be elected president and not being able to do anything that would change the outcome, despite the urge to do so, almost made me quit the Time historians guild. I mean, come on, who is going to miss Hitler?  Then again, my parents probably wouldn’t have met, and if they did I’d be a German citizen, and trust me, German is not an easy language to learn. 

Being a time historian does have its perks. You get to be a primary source for anything that you’ve witnessed. You may not be able to change what has occurred but you certainly can correct something that has been misrecorded. Of course, there is a lot of paperwork that needs to be filled out in order to change the facts. I’m still filling out all the paperwork on that Covid virus pandemic. Who knew it was caused by some sort of plane exhaust over the Antarctic. Oh yeah, you didn’t hear that from me. You’re not allowed to release any information on your finds until approved by the World-Honored Associated Time-Testers Having Examined – Force. Better known as “What the F”.

That’s what a time historian does. We think of an event to research. We go back in time to witness it, interview people, take pictures (which itself can be an issue if you go back to a time before cameras were invented), and come back, and report your findings.

Unfortunately, when I set my time frame for this writing playshop today, I got the day wrong. I’ve been sitting around just trying to come up with something to write about for about a month. Luckily today’s group is finally here. All I have to do now is write, which I did, read what I wrote, listen to the rest of you, and then go back and report. I’m sure you’ll all read about it when you get there (in time that is).

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A Touch of Chocolate

Posted on August 2, 2021 by hdh

A Touch of Chocolate

King Milton was well versed in Greek mythology. So when he was fortunate enough to save the satyr, Silenus, from another drunken binge and captivity, he knew that on the return of Silenus to the god Dionysus, he would be given a reward of anything he wanted.

Milton did not want to incur the mishap that had befallen the greedy King Midas under the same circumstance. So Milton had to think carefully as to what his wish should be. 

King Milton was not a greedy man. While others dreamt of riches, adventures, and sexual exploits. King Milton was satisfied with his existence as it was. All he had to do was command something to be done and it would be done. Such was his power, and he never misused it.

He was a kind and compassionate human being. Unlike Midas, he was not enamored of gold and its acquisition. What wealth Milton gained was always shared with the people that he ruled over. For that reason alone, he was cherished by all the inhabitants of the kingdom. That was not to say that Milton did not have wants and desires. 

If King Milton had one weakness it would be chocolate. For he loved the taste of it; he loved the touch of it. Deep dark chocolate made his mouth water. Though not as strong as dark, milk chocolate cleansed his palate whenever he needed to soothe a bitter taste of something he had consumed. White chocolate…well, he didn’t consider “white chocolate” chocolate at all, so he rarely ate any, unless it was part of some confection that included other real chocolates (dark, bittersweet, semi-sweet, milk).  As for beverages he loved his chocolate milk and chocolate ice cream sodas. You get the idea.

If he was to make a wish, you can be sure that somehow it would be connected to chocolate. Perhaps he would choose a Chocolate touch? To be able to touch something and turn it into chocolate would be ideal. But then he remembered the mishap of King Midas. 

Having wished to turn everything into gold at his touch, King Midas found that he couldn’t eat anything anymore. Every utensil, food, or liquid he made contact with turned to gold. Gold is not something one wants to eat nor drink. In some versions of the Midas story, Midas turns his only daughter into gold. Though King Milton considered his daughter as precious as Midas must have thought about Midas’s own daughter, turning King Milton’s daughter into chocolate just wasn’t in the cards. 

So when you’re not sure what to wish for, you go to your faithful counselors and ask their advice. In this case, his most faithful and loved advisors were his wife, the queen, and daughter, the princess. It also helped that both of them had a longing for chocolate too. 

They talked together all through the night, and by morning the queen and princess came up with a plan. 

The first part of the plan was to build or purchase a small bakery shop in the village devoted to baking chocolate confections. The next part involved hiring the most accomplished bakers in the kingdom to work in the bakery. At no time were any of the people hired to know that it was the King and Queen behind the running of this shop. Stocking the shop with the finest chocolates and ingredients was simple; the king certainly had the funds. Other than the king, queen, and princess, only the master of the royal treasury would know the specifics of this shop and be in charge of distributing all of the funds needed. The third part was the creation of the book. This tome would contain only blank pages, a lot of them. The final part was up to the king and his wish.

And so it happened. Once Silenus was sobered up and healed. He was allowed to return to his god Dionysus. After Silenus shared the story of his capture and return to the god, Dionysus visited King Milton and as the story goes, offered the king anything he wished for. The king’s wish was for a Chocolate touch. But there were conditions for this touch. It wasn’t that anything he touched would turn to chocolate, but any blank page in his book that he touched would fill the page with a recipe for a chocolate delight never heard of before, that could be made from available ingredients. And the wish was granted. 

All the king had to do was touch an empty page in his book, a new recipe would appear, the princess in disguise would share the recipe with the bakers and a new chocolate confection was created. 

The king’s bakery was a big success, to the delight of the king, his family, and the entire kingdom. Of course, no one ever knew who the real owner of the bakery was, for it wasn’t called king’s bakery. The idea for the bakery came from the Queen. Though the idea was hers, she did have help from the princess. They decided to put the two words together to name the bakery and no one was the wiser. It was to be called Hershey’s Chocolatier. A private joke of the king and his family.

When the book was filled with recipes, the king’s chocolate touch powers ended. After the deaths of the king, the queen, and the princess, the funding for the bakery ceased and over time the bakery closed down. As to the book, no one has ever been able to find it, or so they say. I find it very interesting that in 1894, a person by the name of Milton Hershey began selling Hershey’s chocolate bars and founded a major chocolate company that still stands to this day. I leave it to you to connect the dots. 

 

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Sight Lines

Posted on July 26, 2021 by hdh

Sight Lines

I should have realized that going out on a blind date at my age was a bit shortsighted. I was to meet her for a sightseeing trip in downtown Manhattan. I was told I would know her by sight, sight unseen, by her hair color. It would be dyed multiple colors. I should have told my friend that I consider people with hair dyed different colors, not a pretty sight. 

I got to where we were supposed to meet at Bryant Park and had the foresight not to wear my sunglasses, as they would have made it impossible to distinguish hair color. I didn’t set my sights very high for this date. 

And there she was, directly in my line of sight, a sight to behold. Despite the color of her hair, my heart started beating rapidly. If she had a personality that matched her looks, this was love at first sight. 

I walked over and introduced myself to her. She seemed pleasant at first but the more we talked, the more I lost sight of this wonderful woman I had imagined. When she took out a cigarette and began to smoke, I realized that I hated the sight of her. 

I wanted to just yell, “Get out of my sight!” but never got the chance. 

She had already decided that I was a sorry sight and just left, without a word. Some personality.

As I turned to leave the park I caught sight of a woman who looked very familiar. It turned out it was an old friend of mine from high school. It stirred up good feelings. She was outta sight. I went over to her and before I even started talking, she said hello to me. She said she knew me by sight, that I was a sight for sore eyes, and that she was just thinking about me. She claimed she had second sight, and knew that Bryant Park was the place where she had to be today and at that particular time. “When you set your sights on something, you have to follow your dreams,” she said. 

This time as my heart started beating rapidly again, I realized that sometimes you don’t have to go looking for what you desire. While you’re being farsighted, what you need might be right there hidden in plain sight. The goal is not to lose sight of your own dreams when the opportunity arises. 

Needless to say, the day progressed beautifully. And as the days passed the sight of each other filled us with much joy and happiness. 

In hindsight, maybe going on that blind date wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me. The oversight was thinking that that particular blind date would be the woman I would end up being with that day. 

If you happen to be walking in the park, you will be able to recognize us immediately. You’ll catch sight of us sitting on a park bench or walking hand in hand or arm in arm along the pathways. Our eyesight may be getting weaker, but our love is definitely growing stronger every day. See you there. 

————-

Author’s note: This was written as part of a writing workshop, “Awakening Your Senses”. This week’s story spark was: “Sight”

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It’s Just a Thing

Posted on July 22, 2021 by hdh

It’s Just a Thing

He was only 10 years old. A child prodigy they said. Who knew that it would go so far. 

It started with a drawing he did as a 5-year-old. “That’s an incredible picture of a horse,” his mother exclaimed when he brought it home from school. “It’s so life-like,” she said, “Where did you see this horse?”

“It’s not a horse,” was his reply.

His mother was confused. “It looks exactly like one. If it’s not a horse, then what is it?”

His reply was simple, “It’s just a thing. I saw it in my head.”

This went on for years. Each drawing that he brought home was more and more lifelike. His parents tried to figure out what he had drawn. A kite on a windy day, a car stuck in a snowdrift, a cat leaping through the air as if it was flying, a swimming pool filled with frogs, a mountain scene with azure skies, and vulture-like birds flying overhead, and more. But each time anyone tried to guess what the picture was about they were told that they were wrong. 

“It’s a thing!” he would shout. 

“But what kind of thing?” they would ask.

“JUST A THING! I saw it in my head.”

His pictures were the talk of the town. A number of them hung up in the local library. The town newspaper even wrote an article about him and printed some of his drawings. 

And then he turned ten. Though the drawings continued, they were now different. Detailed? Yes. Colorful? Yes. Picturesque? Yes. Recognizable? No. 

Each new drawing became a three-dimensional image. The figures, if that’s what they were, looked alien-like. The landscapes and objects all looked foreign. One could even say unworldly. There was no need to ask him what a picture was of, for his answer would always be the same. “It’s a Thing. I saw it in my head.”

Again, the local newspaper ran an article about his drawings. They even ran a “Name the Thing” contest. Local news articles rarely make national news. But somewhere, this particular article was picked up. The Washington Post found it interesting enough to write a story about this boy in their Sunday magazine section. They include some of his drawings, especially some of the new ones and they caught the public’s eye. 

In fact, it caught more than just the public’s eye. It caught the eye of the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Homeland Security.

These pictures that he had been drawing recently, were recognized. For, similar pictures had been drawn by a number of other children all across the country, and some of the objects that were pictured also happened to be located and were being analyzed at Area 51.  

So the boy was summoned to Washington. His parents were questioned as was the boy. And then he was taken away. He would be with others of his kind, they said.

“What do you mean, his kind?” his parents questioned.

An answer was given. “He’s very talented,” they said. “We want him to go to a special school for kids like him,” was all they would be told.

His parents acknowledged that he was different and were assured that he would be well taken care of. His parents would also receive a stipend of $100,000 a year for as long as he stayed. They just had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. It was for his protection, they said. That was a lot of money at the time and his parents could use it. But was it worth giving up their only son?

They were told that they would have unconditional visiting rights, but that the location of the school would not be divulged. Different meeting places would be set up for the meets. Under those conditions, they acquiesced. 

And the boy continued to draw as did all of the other children in his class. Not everyone drew the exact same pictures, but they were all very similar. Planets with multiple suns and moons, alien creatures that could not only walk but could fly, creatures that seemed to be able to morph into different shapes, mimicking their surroundings and each other’s appearance. 

All of these drawings were not shared with any of the parents of these children. Reports home stated that the children were advancing their artistic skills and receiving an excellent education and care. 

Visits continued throughout their confinement. The students were not allowed to keep any electronic devices so that communication with their parents was kept to visits and handwritten letters only. And all of the letters were screened. 

On one of the boy’s parents’ visits, he gave them a picture he drew. This was allowed after being screened. It was like his old pictures from his youth. It was a farm scene. Only in this picture, there was one difference. There was a child in the picture and it looked like himself. None of the pictures he had ever drawn were of people. 

“Don’t you like this picture of a farm?” he asked. “Look at all of the animals I drew. There’s a horse and some sheep and I even drew some chickens.” 

Both parents were surprised. In all the years since he began drawing, he never mentioned what anything in his pictures represented, even though they seemed obvious. 

“I’m very impressed,” his father said. 

“Me too,” his mother agreed. “I like that you are even in the drawing.”

“Oh, that’s not me,” was the boy’s quick answer. “He’s just a thing. I saw it in my head. So should you.”

And that was it. They took the picture home and stared at it for a while. That was a very strange thing for him to say. “So should you.” They had an idea. The mother, being a microbiologist, decided to take a closer look at the boy in the picture. Using a high-powered magnifying glass from work she focussed on the boy’s head. What she saw was jaw-dropping. Sketched within the hair of the boy, was another picture. This picture was of aliens, strange planets, and places. 

As the weeks followed they were given more pictures during each visit. No matter what the natural scene was being depicted there was always one human in the picture.  These images hidden microscopically in the human’s heads became somewhat sequential. A story was being told. In reality, these micro drawings were the same pictures he had been drawing for the scientists and military personnel studying him. They were so cleverly hidden in the pictures he was giving to his parents that no one suspected a thing. 

And as the story went, these creatures/aliens, whatever they were, were about to come to Earth, if they were not here already. What were his parents going to do? This was more than a “thing.”

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