I never considered attempting to write anything meaningful, much less poetry, until a buddy asked for help when he suffered a broken heart. We were 18. He had it bad for a girl we worked with. She had a boyfriend (who was a jerk). My friend was giving up, but he wanted to send her flowers and a poem for her birthday. He couldn't come up with anything and asked me for help. I thought about what he was feeling and wrote this:
The flowers are to let you know
Just exactly how I feel.
About a love I can never show
And a heart I can never steal.
It was bad, but it did get him a pity date. Really, he was too good for her.
The main reason I remember it is because at the time I thought, "Hmmm, I might be able to use this myself someday." But the opportunity never arose. Since then I've mostly avoided writing poetry. Until...
Rooth challenged readers
"Compose a haiku or two"
Embarrassed myself
Or did she just share some and I took it as a challenge? No, no, I'm pretty sure she invited others to join in. I think I wrote two: one defending men and the other slamming them--I like to explore both sides of an issue.
PS - Of course my friend wasn't really giving up. That's just something guys say when they decide to make a grand gesture after months of failure. DO NOT BE FOOLED! :D
PS ll - The title was inspired by a childhood taunt, "You're a poet and don't know it, but your feet sure show it. They're Loooongfellows!"
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
A New Danger
Well, not so new. This happened to me in 2010...and I blogged about it. But thanks to an almost complete turnover of blog friends, I can share it again. I learned about a certain danger the hard way.
It wasn't a disease or virus. It was a special breed of women. Unaware of the danger, I entered their lair--the hardware store! That's right, I came face-to-face with women who (according to my wife) inhabit hardware stores on Saturday nights. They don't care about looks or charm or money or finding a soulmate. They don't seem to care if the guy is married. They're just looking for a man who knows the difference between a flush valve and a fill valve, can replace a failed light switch, clear a clogged drain, etc.
It was to be a quick trip. I only needed a few items--and I always like to browse the flashlights. To make a long story short, two women took turns browsing whatever aisle I was in and standing right in front of what I was looking at--they showed up even when I doubled back (twice) to aisles they had already been in. Separately, they kept making small talk about how they didn't really know what they were doing and how nice it would be to have someone help them because they're just girls and have no idea how toggle bolts work (or something like that).
I was so annoyed I left without even looking at the flashlights (that's like a shoe girl not looking at shoes). I told my wife about it when I got home and she laughed (and laughed). She said they were trying to pick me up. I told her that was crazy, they just wanted help with home repairs. But she insisted this is a real thing, there are women that figure a guy who can fix things around the house is a good catch and they hope to find one in hardware stores on a Friday or Saturday night.
Is that true? Have you ever heard of such a thing???
PS - As stated above, these ladies don't care about looks, charm or money. So it makes sense they were talking to me. :D
It wasn't a disease or virus. It was a special breed of women. Unaware of the danger, I entered their lair--the hardware store! That's right, I came face-to-face with women who (according to my wife) inhabit hardware stores on Saturday nights. They don't care about looks or charm or money or finding a soulmate. They don't seem to care if the guy is married. They're just looking for a man who knows the difference between a flush valve and a fill valve, can replace a failed light switch, clear a clogged drain, etc.
It was to be a quick trip. I only needed a few items--and I always like to browse the flashlights. To make a long story short, two women took turns browsing whatever aisle I was in and standing right in front of what I was looking at--they showed up even when I doubled back (twice) to aisles they had already been in. Separately, they kept making small talk about how they didn't really know what they were doing and how nice it would be to have someone help them because they're just girls and have no idea how toggle bolts work (or something like that).
I was so annoyed I left without even looking at the flashlights (that's like a shoe girl not looking at shoes). I told my wife about it when I got home and she laughed (and laughed). She said they were trying to pick me up. I told her that was crazy, they just wanted help with home repairs. But she insisted this is a real thing, there are women that figure a guy who can fix things around the house is a good catch and they hope to find one in hardware stores on a Friday or Saturday night.
Is that true? Have you ever heard of such a thing???
PS - As stated above, these ladies don't care about looks, charm or money. So it makes sense they were talking to me. :D
Monday, September 29, 2014
Tommy (my gray cat)
I wrote this story quite some time ago, but decided not to share it. I was reminded of it when my puppy got sick recently and, well...here's Tommy's story:
It was worse than I’d imagined. He didn’t die quietly. His body thrashed about like he was being electrocuted. It was awful. I buried Tommy and gave the gun back to my father. I told him about the thrashing—I was afraid I’d botched it and caused the cat even more pain. But dad assured me that was normal. (Normal!) Supposedly the cat didn’t feel anything.
This story should end with a lesson, but I'm not sure what it is. Always do the best you can (under the circumstances) to keep your pets from suffering??? I'm going with that one. In fact, I know that's what my dad was doing, in his way.
PS - Taking a pet to the vet to be put to sleep is difficult. It's always very sad. But in there with the sadness, a part of me is thankful I don't have to do it myself, thankful the vet is there, thankful I can afford the vet.
When I was growing up, my parents had a gray cat, Tommy (he looked a lot like Kristie's cat). He was a sweet cat and a hero (he saved my mom from a snake). One Saturday when I was 12 (maybe 13) he came home badly hurt. The fur over his left eye and on his cheek was
torn and bleeding. Fur was missing from
bottom half of his tail and his left hip was very badly injured. My dad didn’t believe in taking pets to a
vet. If one got injured, he put it out
of its misery (his farm upbringing?). My
brothers and I (usually me) had the job of digging a grave in the woods—this had happened before. I’d argued in the past to take the pets to a vet,
but dad said no. I had no money and no options.
I
dug the grave and carried Tommy into the woods. I fed him leftover tuna while I waited for my dad. Then I would leave—I never watched. But this time it was going to be
different. Dad loaded his .22 rifle and
handed it to me. He explained that doing
what needs to be done is hard sometimes, but it still needs to be done—you
can’t wait around hoping someone else will take care of it. He gave me a choice: let my pet die a slow, painful death or put
him out of his misery.
Dad showed me where to aim to make it painless and then he left. Supposedly there are always alternatives, but I didn't see any. I couldn’t let Tommy suffer. I talked with him for a minute and rubbed his back (hopefully where it didn’t hurt). Then I stood up, aimed, and...I shot my cat.
Dad showed me where to aim to make it painless and then he left. Supposedly there are always alternatives, but I didn't see any. I couldn’t let Tommy suffer. I talked with him for a minute and rubbed his back (hopefully where it didn’t hurt). Then I stood up, aimed, and...I shot my cat.
It was worse than I’d imagined. He didn’t die quietly. His body thrashed about like he was being electrocuted. It was awful. I buried Tommy and gave the gun back to my father. I told him about the thrashing—I was afraid I’d botched it and caused the cat even more pain. But dad assured me that was normal. (Normal!) Supposedly the cat didn’t feel anything.
This story should end with a lesson, but I'm not sure what it is. Always do the best you can (under the circumstances) to keep your pets from suffering??? I'm going with that one. In fact, I know that's what my dad was doing, in his way.
PS - Taking a pet to the vet to be put to sleep is difficult. It's always very sad. But in there with the sadness, a part of me is thankful I don't have to do it myself, thankful the vet is there, thankful I can afford the vet.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Domestic Violence
I have a story.
But first I am going to pile on and comment on the Ray Rice situation. It's sickening. But for more reasons than the news outlets are reporting (at least the reports I've seen). Months ago (February?), it was reported that he had knocked his fiancee out cold in an elevator. Legally and professionally he received a slap on the wrist. Until a video of the incident was released. Then things hit the fan.
Why did it take a video? What do people think it looks like when a football player clocks a woman (or anyone)? The video was no more disturbing than the story. Is there no justice for domestic abuse victims without a video??? Second, the talking heads on TV talk as if they know the GF/wife is a victim of long-term abuse. They can tell because she "fits the profile." That's BS--they don't "know" anything. She also fits the profile of a spouse trying to protect the family income stream. I'm not defending the guy, but there's no excuse for making assumptions and treating them as facts.
My story: As a teenager I gestered with my hands more than I do now--especially when I was annoyed. One evening I had a fairly animated discussion with my GF in her parent's basement. She was sitting on their dryer and I was standing in front of her. At some point her oldest sister came down the basement steps and, from the viewing angle of the stairs, thought I struck my GF. I did not (I promise, I've never done anything like that). Several days later my GF told me what happened, that her sister thought I hit her. She thought it was funny. I did not. 1) I didn't get a chance to defend myself against the false accusation. 2) Why didn't the sister confront me? Or tell her father so he could defend his daughter? She thought I hit her sister and just walked away???
Maybe it worked out better for me that she didn't sing her accusation from the rooftop, but...
But first I am going to pile on and comment on the Ray Rice situation. It's sickening. But for more reasons than the news outlets are reporting (at least the reports I've seen). Months ago (February?), it was reported that he had knocked his fiancee out cold in an elevator. Legally and professionally he received a slap on the wrist. Until a video of the incident was released. Then things hit the fan.
Why did it take a video? What do people think it looks like when a football player clocks a woman (or anyone)? The video was no more disturbing than the story. Is there no justice for domestic abuse victims without a video??? Second, the talking heads on TV talk as if they know the GF/wife is a victim of long-term abuse. They can tell because she "fits the profile." That's BS--they don't "know" anything. She also fits the profile of a spouse trying to protect the family income stream. I'm not defending the guy, but there's no excuse for making assumptions and treating them as facts.
My story: As a teenager I gestered with my hands more than I do now--especially when I was annoyed. One evening I had a fairly animated discussion with my GF in her parent's basement. She was sitting on their dryer and I was standing in front of her. At some point her oldest sister came down the basement steps and, from the viewing angle of the stairs, thought I struck my GF. I did not (I promise, I've never done anything like that). Several days later my GF told me what happened, that her sister thought I hit her. She thought it was funny. I did not. 1) I didn't get a chance to defend myself against the false accusation. 2) Why didn't the sister confront me? Or tell her father so he could defend his daughter? She thought I hit her sister and just walked away???
Maybe it worked out better for me that she didn't sing her accusation from the rooftop, but...
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Chemistry
Before I got lucky and met my wife, I had mixed experiences with the opposite sex.
Some girls I liked saw me as just a friend.
Some girls who liked me, I saw just as friends.
Some mutual attractions ended horribly.
Some mutual attractions ended amicably (but their friends got mad).
All pretty typical stuff (except, perhaps, for the friends yelling at me?).
At one point, after a weird sequence of events, I started running into the "prettiest girl in school" almost everywhere I went--no, I wasn't stalking her! (I put that in quotes because while I remember her resembling a teenage Brittany Spears, she may have looked more like a Brittany Spaniel--who knows with teenage boys!) And suddenly she wanted to talk to me. I was pretty sure we had chemistry.
We flirted a little. I think. She was very, very pretty (to me), so I may have misinterpreted. But I quickly realized I really didn't enjoy spending time with her. I didn't like her personality. She was more than a little stuck on herself and her sense of humor centered mostly on putting down others. One day I bumped into her at my grandmother's store. We chatted for a minute and then she said something like, "I'm not sure if you're my type or not." She said it teasingly, but it gave me a perfect opening to put an end to our...whatever it was. I laughed and said, "Trust me, I'm not your type." Then I turned and walked away. I never spoke to her again. She was shiny, but not the one for me.
Years later I saw her at one of my son's back-to-school nights. She gave me the stink eye. At that moment I thought about how lucky I was that I didn't waste any time on her. Thanks to that I was unattached when I met my wife a few months later. It's funny how things work out.
Why did I share this story? I'm not 100% sure why I share any of them. But in this case it's just as a reminder that we need to get to know people before we build them up in our minds as something special OR dismiss them as not worth our time. People have a way of surprising you.
Let yourself be surprised--but always in a safe, well lit place with lots of other people around. :D
PS - Brittany Spaniel is a dog breed.
Some girls I liked saw me as just a friend.
Some girls who liked me, I saw just as friends.
Some mutual attractions ended horribly.
Some mutual attractions ended amicably (but their friends got mad).
All pretty typical stuff (except, perhaps, for the friends yelling at me?).
At one point, after a weird sequence of events, I started running into the "prettiest girl in school" almost everywhere I went--no, I wasn't stalking her! (I put that in quotes because while I remember her resembling a teenage Brittany Spears, she may have looked more like a Brittany Spaniel--who knows with teenage boys!) And suddenly she wanted to talk to me. I was pretty sure we had chemistry.
We flirted a little. I think. She was very, very pretty (to me), so I may have misinterpreted. But I quickly realized I really didn't enjoy spending time with her. I didn't like her personality. She was more than a little stuck on herself and her sense of humor centered mostly on putting down others. One day I bumped into her at my grandmother's store. We chatted for a minute and then she said something like, "I'm not sure if you're my type or not." She said it teasingly, but it gave me a perfect opening to put an end to our...whatever it was. I laughed and said, "Trust me, I'm not your type." Then I turned and walked away. I never spoke to her again. She was shiny, but not the one for me.
Years later I saw her at one of my son's back-to-school nights. She gave me the stink eye. At that moment I thought about how lucky I was that I didn't waste any time on her. Thanks to that I was unattached when I met my wife a few months later. It's funny how things work out.
Why did I share this story? I'm not 100% sure why I share any of them. But in this case it's just as a reminder that we need to get to know people before we build them up in our minds as something special OR dismiss them as not worth our time. People have a way of surprising you.
Let yourself be surprised--but always in a safe, well lit place with lots of other people around. :D
PS - Brittany Spaniel is a dog breed.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
"What did he do???"
What he did was have flowers delivered to his wife at her office.
And that brought out all the cynics.
"What did he do?"
"Is he in trouble?"
"Did he forget an anniversary?"
Nothing. No. And no.
Sometimes it's just because.
Don't be a cynic.
Well, don't always be a cynic--sometimes you just can't help it.
Sometimes I can't help it. :)
Happy Thursday! Have a great weekend.
"Is he in trouble?"
"Did he forget an anniversary?"
Sometimes it's just because.
Don't be a cynic.
Well, don't always be a cynic--sometimes you just can't help it.
Sometimes I can't help it. :)
Happy Thursday! Have a great weekend.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Old post getting traffic???
A really old post of mine, "It's the fuzz! Or is it???" has been getting a lot of traffic this week. I'm not sure why. Do people want to read about one of the dumbest things I've done? Or are people googling "the fuzz"??? Regardless, I've decided to re-post it. It took place this time of year, so the timing is appropriate. Here goes:
I was driving my girl home one night after a date. We were 18. Like me, she lived in a somewhat secluded area…no street lights and lots of room between houses. As I made the turn into her neighborhood, police lights started to flash behind us. I stopped.
The light from my brakes allowed me to get somewhat of a look at the car behind me. It didn't look like a police car—not even an unmarked one. I got suspicious, but wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to sit there and wait for a maniac to walk up to the car. I also didn’t want to drive off, leading that maniac to my GF's house—or have it appear I was running from the police. What to do??? I came up with an idea (a terrible one). Like my father, I kept a baseball bat (and tools, a snow shovel, a blanket, etc) in my car, just in case. You never know what you’ll need!!!
I grabbed the bat and told my GF to get in the driver’s seat, keep the doors locked, and keep an eye on me in the mirror. If it was not a policeman, she should drive someplace safe. (Why didn’t I just do that?) Anyway, I got out of the car and walked at an angle towards the middle of the road and back towards the “police” car. I didn’t want to get too close to it. Soon I could see there were three guys in the car, but not their faces.
Me: Is there a problem officer?
Guys in car: What are you doing with that bat?
Me: It depends if you’re policemen or not.
Guys in car: {lots of laughter}
Then they turned on the car’s interior light and I could see a friend sitting in the back seat. He was out with two guys (who had a flashing light for some reason???) and convinced them to play a little joke when he spotted my car. We chatted for a few minutes. Before I left I told them they were lucky my dad wasn't driving my car, he would have shot them. He would NOT have done that, but I wanted to give them something to think about before they considered playing that potentially dangerous joke again.
Moral of the story: I got lucky. I never, never, NEVER should have gotten out of the car. I should have done what I wanted my GF to do—drive to a well lit, populated area. I hope none of you are ever in that position. But if you are, don’t get out of the car—even if you do have a baseball bat. =)
I was driving my girl home one night after a date. We were 18. Like me, she lived in a somewhat secluded area…no street lights and lots of room between houses. As I made the turn into her neighborhood, police lights started to flash behind us. I stopped.
The light from my brakes allowed me to get somewhat of a look at the car behind me. It didn't look like a police car—not even an unmarked one. I got suspicious, but wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to sit there and wait for a maniac to walk up to the car. I also didn’t want to drive off, leading that maniac to my GF's house—or have it appear I was running from the police. What to do??? I came up with an idea (a terrible one). Like my father, I kept a baseball bat (and tools, a snow shovel, a blanket, etc) in my car, just in case. You never know what you’ll need!!!
I grabbed the bat and told my GF to get in the driver’s seat, keep the doors locked, and keep an eye on me in the mirror. If it was not a policeman, she should drive someplace safe. (Why didn’t I just do that?) Anyway, I got out of the car and walked at an angle towards the middle of the road and back towards the “police” car. I didn’t want to get too close to it. Soon I could see there were three guys in the car, but not their faces.
Me: Is there a problem officer?
Guys in car: What are you doing with that bat?
Me: It depends if you’re policemen or not.
Guys in car: {lots of laughter}
Then they turned on the car’s interior light and I could see a friend sitting in the back seat. He was out with two guys (who had a flashing light for some reason???) and convinced them to play a little joke when he spotted my car. We chatted for a few minutes. Before I left I told them they were lucky my dad wasn't driving my car, he would have shot them. He would NOT have done that, but I wanted to give them something to think about before they considered playing that potentially dangerous joke again.
Moral of the story: I got lucky. I never, never, NEVER should have gotten out of the car. I should have done what I wanted my GF to do—drive to a well lit, populated area. I hope none of you are ever in that position. But if you are, don’t get out of the car—even if you do have a baseball bat. =)
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