A Night to Remember

Posted on July 11, 2020 by hdh

A Night to Remember

It was a long drive to get to where we were going; a small village at the bottom of a mountain in Maine. We were driving a rented truck with enough supplies to last us at least the week we were renting that cabin. As the truck meandered through the small roads that went through the forest we had trouble with our GPS signal. That made keeping a course difficult. As it happened we took a wrong turn.

We found ourselves in the middle of the forest, with no cell signal, no road maps and a useless GPS, totally lost. My wife suggested that we leave the truck where it was and walk on the road to see if we could find someone to direct us to the right path. Secretly I’m sure she was praying for help. 

We hadn’t gotten far, when we heard the crash. Turning back the way we came, we saw the tree that had fallen. It had landed right on top of our truck, smashing through the front windshield. We surely would have both been killed. We were lucky to have left the truck when we did. I’m not sure if it was just coincidental or my wife’s prayer that saved us. 

With nowhere else to go, we continued on our walk.  This time it was my turn to pray. I prayed for help, not knowing how we could possibly find a way out. 

We reached a fork in the path when I saw headlights of a vehicle heading towards us. It was red Outback racing in our direction. Luckily the driver saw us and stopped. Coincidence or prayer? We explained our story and she was kind enough to not only drive us to our truck, unload what we could into her Outback, and then take us to the cabin. She explained that we weren’t the first people to get lost on that road, however we were the first to escape death. 

As the time reached midnight, the color of the sky changed, it became less dark blue and more pitch black. Then lightning struck and the rain came. We decided to wait out the storm before continuing to our cabin

When we got there, we unloaded the Outback, thanked the driver, moved everything in, lit a fire in the fireplace and collapsed from emotional exhaustion. Through all the hazards and stress we had on our way there, we were safe. You could say the relief made the rest of our night’s thoughts “happy to be alive”.

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Late Again…Not if I can help it.

Posted on July 9, 2020 by hdh

Late Again…Not if I can help it.

It is not that hard to on time. At least for me, it isn’t. If you tell me that I’m supposed to be somewhere at 10:00, I’ll make sure that I’m there by 9:55. I have to be honest that I’m not always exactly on time. There are times when I arrive later than expected. But there is usually an excuse for that. Actually there is always an excuse for that, sometimes real, sometimes made up. 

The problem arises when I’m the one expecting someone else to meet me or be somewhere at a certain time. Inevitably, they are always late. Does it bother me? Not really. The first time they are late, I accept it as an aberration. But if it continues and a pattern develops, it becomes a known occurrence, and I just expect it. In fact, when they do show up on time, it can be somewhat flustering, since now I’m not prepared, as I was expecting them to be late. 

When I was growing up, my father was always ready well ahead of the time we needed to be ready to go visiting or traveling, whereas my mother was not. How I know this, was because of constant reminders that were heard from father, every time we had to go somewhere, never in a quiet, calm voice. 

Thankfully, though I like to be where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be, I have not inherited my father’s demeanor when someone else is not as prompt as I am. I just wait. I have all those reminders and conversations he may have had in my head, rather than out loud. You can only do what you can do.

That being all said, I have to admit that some of what I ascribe to as being prompt is not totally true. 

I suffer from a condition known as “Brain Freeze”. I may know what I have to do to get ready for where I have to be, but there are times when my mind just goes off into another direction, sort of like a living daydream. “What was that dream I had last night?” “Look at the bird on the bird feeder.” “Was I supposed to be at a writing group today?”  “It’s a good time to watch the next episode of ‘The Flash’”. You know those kinds of thought paths.

Luckily for me, I live with my personal Brain Defroster. She is usually around to get me back on the right track and back into my promptness mode. 

And then there are my other guides, like now when time is up and I must read what I’ve just written that keep me from being late. 

And so it is…“It is not that hard to be on time.”

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The Watcher

Posted on June 24, 2020 by hdh

The Watcher

It was my turn to watch. I’d only been working there for 3 hours and I was given the job to watch. I should say that watching involved a lot more than just staring at the object. I was there to protect it. Make sure that it didn’t overwhelm its containment field. Make sure that no contaminants infiltrated its walls and attempted to inhabit its being and convert it to a source of destruction. 

Too many times had alien cultures been found in the makeup of things just like this, creating a new breed of being with strange colors and growths, a poison so strong that others would become sick. Nothing could change it back. People would turn a shade of green that is just not meant for humans to be. It had to be destroyed. 

Keeping everything sterile was the first task. It should have been done prior to my being there, but I knew it wasn’t. As I walked in I could already see that some of its creators had no gloves on. I would not be surprised if they didn’t wash their hands. And then there were all the open containers. These were to be sealed when not in use. I’m sure I heard someone cough. 

Watching its containment was easy. I just had to make sure it didn’t overflow its boundaries. It seemed to be growing as it was supposed to though I was a little concerned about the bubbles. There shouldn’t have been any. I checked with the master and she assured me that bubbles were expected in this type of operation. This wasn’t a normal operation. She explained this was an open-air attempt. The hope was that outside sources would infiltrate this substance to compound, enhance, and strengthen it. Time would tell.

I watched it for another 3 hours. Then it was taken away from me and placed in another confined space. It was subjected to increasing heat. I could stand outside the enclosure and watch through a secure windowed panel if I wished, but there was nothing more I could do for it. The die had been cast. It would either be successful or fail to rise to the occasion. 

An hour later, it was released from confinement. It was allowed to breathe out in the open again. With any luck, it had survived and was able to benefit our community. Later, I watched as it was placed on a shelf in full view of the incoming seekers. I saw one person point to it and I watched as it was taken down and put to the knife. The beauty of its being, its proud appearance, its lofty smell, all this reduced to pieces as it was cut to shreds. 

It was the first time I had watched it happen in a public setting, but it wasn’t to be my last. In fact, the longer I stayed there, the more I perfected the technique myself, the more the watcher and apprentice became the master. That is why I am now the master baker. I hire others to do the watching as I run the bakery: and my specialty… is sourdough. 

 

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Summer Hunting

Posted on June 18, 2020 by hdh

Summer Hunting

Ah, Summertime…when the livin’ is easy. I so enjoy the warm weather, the pools of water to rest in with my family, and the abundant fresh food that is just there for the picking. Of course, as a hunter, one has to be careful, where one finds its food source. Some of the animals I hunt are very dangerous. If I’m not careful I can easily be killed. But I have been around for a while and know a lot of the tricks of the trade. Wait patiently until my victim is occupied with other activities, move in an erratic pattern such that I’m not seen, and if I am, move quickly so that my prey can only second guess where I am, then attack as silently as I can. I usually can tell when I’ve been spotted and so far I’ve been able to escape unharmed before satisfying my need for blood. 

——————–

I hate summertime. One, it is always too hot and muggy. Then, there are the tics, bees, and worst of all the mosquitoes. I seem to be a mosquito magnet. I go out for 5 minutes to work in the garden and next thing I know I’m covered in bites; Itchy, welty, annoying bites, in places I can’t even reach. I don’t know how those mosquitoes do it without me seeing them. Sometimes I can hear them, but they are quick and they are ruthless. No amount of lotions and creams can subside the itching. And then when I think the itch went away, it comes back the next day. What do they have? Time-release chemicals made just to annoy me?

——————–

The only problem with these beautiful summer days is that sometimes my prey finds a way to mask its scent and though I can see it, finding it is problematic. However, I’ve found that if I wait patiently, it forgets to mask its scent or it uses some foolish candle that smells nice but makes him even more visible. I love the chase.

——————–

No matter how many ways I try to hide from those pesky insects, they still seem to find me. I’ve tried Citronella candles, touted for use to keep mosquitoes away, to no avail. Sometimes it works and then other times it’s like a pheromone designed to attract them. Lately, I’ve been told to try Cedar Oil. I’ll have to give it a try. If I could only stop itching. Maybe I should just stay inside until winter comes. 

——————–

 

I’m full with all the lovely blood that it has given me. I’ll just rest here and bask in the success of my hunting endeavor.  Ahh, this is why I love summer so much. Once I’ve digested all this food I’ll be ready to go out and hunt ag….

——————–

GOT IT! That’s one mosquito that won’t be bothering me again this summer. Eww! Now I’ve got mosquito blood all over my hand. Oh well, it’s probably my blood anyway. Time to go in, wash up, and apply more lotion. Then back to the hunt. One mosquito down, thousands to go. 

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Clutter of Boxes

Posted on June 15, 2020 by hdh

Clutter of Boxes

The room was filled with boxes. There were small ones that allowed you to put in items of value small enough that you could put them in your pocket.  There were medium-sized ones that held books and pictures, and some that were padded that could hold breakable things. There were tall, wide, flat ones that could hold portraits and artwork. There were large ones that held big items like furniture and heavy objects. 

All these were needed to make sense of the clutter of the house. For the time had come to move on. The time had come to downsize. All of the occupants had moved out or moved on. 

It took a while to get everything packed. It took less time to have all that was being kept put onto the moving van that was paid for to transport what was being taken to the new home. 

When all the boxes were gone and all the material things that were not being transported given away or thrown out, I was all alone in this big empty space. 

It was now time to reorganize and sort the random clutter that was left, my memories. 

Should I store them by location? Should I store them chronologically? Should I discard the bad ones and star the good ones for easy retrieval? 

As I sat in the middle of the now empty room, I closed my eyes and remembered. Pictures came to my mind in flashes. The first time we moved in. The birth of each child. The momentous events we participated in as a family. The growing up of our children as they moved through school until they left home ready to take on the world for themselves and with families of their own. 

The togetherness of us all, so far apart. And the sadness when some of our family members took their final journey. 

All that clutter, all those thoughts, and pictures flashed through my mind as I sat. I felt tears of happiness, as well as sadness as all the memories, replayed themselves. 

Then it was over. I was sure there were more to be found, but it was time to move on. To my new home. To my new life. The one thing about a clutter of memories, even when organized, there is always room for more. 

And you know what? Clutter is not so bad. The neat thing about it is that you occasionally get to stumble upon something that was forgotten. You can enjoy the finding and add it to those boxes, for these boxes always travel with you and you don’t have to pay to move them. 

 

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The Cave-In

Posted on June 13, 2020 by hdh

The Cave-In

Charles was not used to being alone. He was always in the company of those that he loved and loved him. That is why when the cave collapsed and his group was on the other side of the cave in; and he was alone for the first time. 

It was to be an adventurous day. He and his family and a group of his friends were going hiking up in Wesley preserve. They were going to go beyond the forest and take an unused path up the mountainside. They weren’t expecting to find the cave. But it was definitely one that they all agreed to explore. 

Charles was the first to enter. He had brought a flashlight. He was followed closely by the others in small groups. Obviously not closely enough. When he heard the rumble he was too far ahead of those behind him. When the roof caved in he was separated. His only hope was that they were not trapped as he was. 

Shivers ran down his spine as he checked his surroundings. The path behind was clearly blocked. The path ahead had narrowed but was still passable. With the exception of his flashlight, there was no source of light. 

He reached for his phone to see if he had a signal to notify the others. It wasn’t there. He must have dropped it when the roof caved in. If they were tracking his phone, they wouldn’t know where he was. 

Should he stay and hope that they would dig him out or attempt to move forward and find another route to safety? 

——————-

The cave-in was unexpected. The group behind Charles heard the rumble and without a second thought screamed out that everyone should run back towards the opening, which they did. They assumed that Charles had heard. When he didn’t show up at the opening of the tunnel, They all began to worry. 

“We must go back and find him!” his parents screamed. 

“It’s not safe!” yelled another adult.

Someone checked their phone and using their find your friends app, located exactly where Charles was. “He’s exactly where the cave-in is. And he’s not moving.”

——————-

Charles decided to move forward. It was getting colder in the cave. He couldn’t figure out whether he was shivering from fear or the air. It was like jumping into ice-cold water. As he moved further on, though, he did hear the sound of rushing water. The closer he got to the sound the louder it got. 

He finally reached an opening into an underground cavern. Below him, he could see rushing water, from what seemed to be an underground river. If water was flowing that meant that it had to have an entranceway and an exit way. Which way to follow? 

——————-

Outside rescue workers were called in. No one from Charles’s party had left the scene. Workers were inside trying to dig through the rubble. It was an arduous task. The only positive sign, by happenstance, was that Charles’s phone was found and he was not with it. 

——————-

Charles decided to follow the flow of the river. Based on the speed of its flow, he assumed that the opening in which it entered was small. That was a good choice, for, in fact, the river flowed towards a light. That light was the opening in the mountain where the river exited. At that point, the flow had slowed down. The water was cold but it was easy for him to escape the clutches of the cave. He had no idea where he was.

It wasn’t until an hour later when he was found by those rescuers who were searching for other exits of the cave and he was reunited with his family and friends. 

It was an experience he hoped he would never have to encounter again. 

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Her Favorite

Posted on June 11, 2020 by hdh

Her Favorite

It was her favorite stuffed animal. She couldn’t go to sleep without it. To be able to hug it closely gave her much comfort. When she was but 3 years old and went on her first visit to the zoo, this animal was the one that caught her eye. She had to have one. So her mother bought her a stuffed one. 

Whenever she went to the zoo, as she grew older, she loved watching when all of the animals in the cage gathered around and would eat in such a strange way. She hadn’t believed that any animal other than herself used tools to eat their food. It was fascinating.

And how they loved to chatter. Back and forth, making strange sounds that surely must be some sort of language, but it was just sounds to her. Clearly she could see when one of them was upset. Usually the younger ones. It would appear the dominant male was very quiet. It was the adult female that was the disciplinarian. 

She could recognize happiness and sadness in the group. Clearly they had a way to display emotions. She once tried to feed one of the infants some food, but instead of the mother attacking the feeder, the mother grabbed the infant and pulled it away from her offering hand; A very protective gesture.

Oh how they all loved to move around. There was the climbing. Trees seemed to be their favorite whenever they came out of their shelters. And the young ones always seemed to be chasing one another for no reason. Occasionally, an adult would join in the play. It was fun to watch all their activities. 

The day they put a mirror in the enclosure was the best. The young ones would just stare at themselves as if envisioning another being with them. The adults obviously knew better. They used the mirror to preen themselves. Sometimes you could hear disgruntled sounds coming from their mouths as they turned from side to side looking at themselves in the mirror.

Yes, these were her favorite animals. And the stuffed one that she got as a three-year-old was well worn and loved. Her greatest desire was that someday, scientists would figure out a way to domesticate these creatures and she could have her very own human as a pet. 

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The Real Thing

Posted on June 10, 2020 by hdh

The Real Thing

His name was Real. I don’t mean “Real” like the opposite of “Fake”. His actual name was Real,  “Real of Tolemac”. It was bad enough that  growing up, he was kidded about his name. No one ever forgot his name. 

“Hey here’s a Real guy.”  

“Hey let’s get Real right now.” 

“Are you for Real, or against. 

But now he had graduated from Squire school and was applying to be a knight. One of King Arthur’s knights. 

Training was tough. First he had to learn how to move around in heavy armor. Then there were the jousting lessons. Did you ever have to get on a horse with armor on? And on top of that hold onto a lance that weighed as much as your armor. 

The theory test was very hard, where he had to solve problems, like the choice he had to make: if there are two damsels in distress; one, a princess with long hair, locked in a tower about to be thrown out of the tower to her death and the other a commoner about to get beheaded as well as her family of five by a dark knight. Knowing that letting the princess die would allow you to save the other damsel and her family (6 people). But by saving the tower princess, who happened to be the daughter of a wealthy king with gold and lands to spare, you would get riches, possibly even marriage and land. Which one do you choose?  

And then there were the dragon tests. You had to find a dragon and then slay it. The early missions were easy. They were just little lizards. But the more advanced Real became the larger the dragons, the sharper the talons, and of course, the breaths of fire. 

But Real was determined. He kept his focus. And when he finally took his final practical exam, he was able to defeat the best jouster in the class. His solution of changing the heart of the dark knight first; and with the dark knight’s help solve the problem of the dual damsels and save them both, was an unheard of unique solution. And though a little scorched, he managed to defeat all dragons he faced. In fact, he even tamed one.  He was the Real thing.

King Arthur was impressed. Real was no longer just a mere squire. He was to be knighted with top honors to sit at King Arthur’s Round table. 

He was proud of his accomplishments as he knelt before King Arthur. Excalibur touched his right shoulder then his left. And forever he was known as Sir Real. 

Which in fact, he kind of was. And all the other knights, some who knew him growing up, never let him forget it.   

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Harbingers

Posted on June 8, 2020 by hdh

Harbingers

Here come the robins and red winged blackbirds. The harbingers of spring. Time to get prepared. Sweep off the decks of all the leftover leaves from the fall cleanup mistakes that were uncovered as the snow disappeared. 

Bring out the outdoor furniture to prepare for the warmer days to come. Look forward to the color and the sights that begin to blossom as the months proceed. The joys of Spring.

But wait, I forgot something. As March and April soon pass and the beauty of the landscape begins to grow. Ah-choo!  Suddenly I’m reminded – Ah-choo! Of what follows those first few months that will lead to Summer. Ah-choo! With the new grass that begins to grow. Ah-Choo! So do the allergies. 

I could have sworn my car was colored blue; now it appears to be a spotty shade of green. Ah yes, when the blue of car combines with the yellow of pollen, one gets green. 

The deck, so spotless following my post winter sweeping of old leaves, makes my heart sing with joy. That would be a short lived joy. Who asked all those oak trees to cast all their droppings on everything. Ah-Choo! That’s all right; I’ll just sweep it up today and will be able to have a clean deck to view… Until 2 hours later, when the deck is covered again. Pooh on you oaks. 

But there are the birds we have to look forward to as we fill our feeders and enjoy the variety of those high flyers as they gather around the feeder to eat. But who invited the Grackles and Woodpeckers. Didn’t anyone teach them table manners? How to share food? With their picky eating habits, they dump everything on the ground before they find the 2 seeds they actually want to consume. And whatever they don’t get, those squirrels with their little tool kits figure out not only how to access the food in the feeders, but actually take the feeders apart. 

Ah yes, Spring is a tough act to follow. One has to wade through the mass of destruction, until well into Summer before one can enjoy the pleasures of the outdoors again. Did I say enjoy the pleasures? I obviously forgot the stinging insects, poison ivy, mowing the lawn and sunburn.

Looking forward to Winter.

 

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A Wandering Mind

Posted on June 4, 2020 by hdh

A Wandering Mind

While the world sleeps, the mind wanders. It takes me to places that cannot be reached in the wakeful hours of the day. 

There was a time when the world was quiet. There were no sounds of merriment, no flowing movement of dance, no smells of fragrant flowers issuing feelings of comfort and peace. There were no thoughts other than to exist, to be present, to stay alive. 

It was that time when I was brought here. I, who had come from a world rich with flavor, rich with company, rich with thoughts filled with imagination. 

What I saw was desolation, abandonment, and despair. People wandering from place to place with no direction, no hope, no desires. 

I could not stand alone in this world and let it be. There had to be a way to awaken the feelings, the ideas, the actions that make a world alive. So I sat amidst the people. I lit a fire in front of me and did not move. I just stared at the fire. 

It wasn’t long before the people began to notice, a lack of movement in front of a strange, warming glow. This was never seen before. And people stopped their aimless wandering and they too began to stare at the flame. And as more and more entered that gathering, I began to speak.

“Once upon a time…” I filled the air with words and with those words I let fly my thoughts, my pictures, my stories. As I spoke I could see the faces of these people change. I began to see wonder in their eyes. I saw movements of their bodies that matched the actions of the words I was telling. I heard sounds of contentment and awe. 

As the fire died down, the stories ended. At least my stories ended. It was then that I heard the sounds of voices. I heard the retellings of words I had spoken. And then I heard new words, creative words, imaginative words, and the world took color. 

It was no longer the place of nothing; It was the place of contentment and joy and action. 

While the world sleeps, the mind wanders. But when the world awakes, it is a beautiful place. You just have to look, hear, smell, touch, and taste what’s there and be part of it. 

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