Notes - a birthday and dark humor / Brothers 12 completed

         0721 hour. Isn't today Lincoln's birthday? -- Checked it out. Yes, today, 1809. Why did we change this? Not worth looking it up. We did. In elementary school we celebrated his birthday today. We talked about how he was born in Kentucky in a log cabin and he grew up to become President and that amidst the Civil War he freed the slaves, that he was one of our greatest Presidents along with George Washington, whose birthday was coming up later in the month. I remember this now, from my fifth grade year. Somehow it didn't stick in my head before then. We were at Whittier Elementary, that's how I know.

         As part of that celebration you and Carol are going to First Watch for breakfast then stopping by the bookstore at the Streets of Westchester before coming home. - Amorella

         This is as good reason to celebrate breakfast as any, Amorella. Such a mischievous humor you have.

         Humor drives the passion, boy. It is a good combination, at least in your case it is. - Amorella

         Most of my favorite humor is dark, Amorella.

         So is most of the universe, boy. Post. - Amorella

         You had breakfast at First Watch and are now at the bookstore at the Streets of West Chester. - Amorella

         1030 hours. Carol found two books for Owen and Brennan, "Tails" by Matthew Van Fleet and "The Kissing Hand" by Audrey Penn. Books make for better kids. I cannot seem to find a mental jumping in point to write. I don't know why.

         You don't jump in, boy. Wading is required. Later, dude. - Amorella

         1137 hours. Another couple errands run and a stop at Kroger's on Mason-Montgomery on the way home. It is a beautiful day. I learned another lesson about politeness and honesty this morning. A small regret in being too honest; I apologized and changed a FB comment to reflect a politer thought.

         I told you it was okay, you are further along than the other fellow she suggested you read. - Amorella

         I know. That is part of my lesson. Just so it is okay to be blunt and say something truthful doesn't mean that it should be said.

         So, would you call 'stubborn politeness' a part of your true character? - Amorella

         That question sounds so funny, Amorella, but I guess so, I am stubbornly polite sometimes.

         At least you are not apologizing for it. - Amorella

         No. There is a built in discomfort in being too nakedly honest.

         Your storytelling reflects this. - Amorella

         Uh, oh. Not good.

         Are you going to define 'good'? - Amorella

         No. I know what I mean. (Is this a line in a song? I keep humming a tune.)

         You made ham, turkey and cheese sandwiches and brought along a bag of Fritos for a picnic lunch down in the small park by the Little Miami River. Carol received a new Money magazine in the mail today, so she brought that to read.

         Again, I am having a problem inducing an argument while I am out here enjoying the open windows bare trees, grass, the aqueduct-styled bridge a few hundred yards away, the sun and the clear blue afternoon sky. (1310)

         Let's work on the conclusion, Robert comes in rather happy and excited about what he's heard and seen and notes very quickly that the living room has three people with none about to utter a word as if each had already uttered herorhis last one for the day.

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Selection of conclusion to Brothers 12 draft

         Robert came in the side door and while strolling into the kitchen he greeted the house with, "Hello, everybody! I'm home. It was a great conference." Silence. He walked into the living room. Connie and Cyndi were sitting on each end of the couch waiting for Richard to speak first. Richard sat stubbornly ridged, glaring at the dark framed portrait of the old Stoner House on the wall. "What's the argument, Richie?"   70 words

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         You finished your exercises. - Amorella        

         1607 hours. In a bit I'll be ready to write. I would like to get this argument over with.

         Ready when you are, boy. - Amorella

         1809 hours. I have 722 words, but I need more specific, more direct adjectives in the dialogue, not in the argument itself.

         Time for dinner. Post what we have here. - Amorella

         2233 hours. The Brothers 12 appears complete enough.

         We still have work, orndorff, once these chapters are all complete, but this will do presently. Add and post. - Amorella

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Brothers 12 ©2013,rho, nfd

Richard sat in the winter sky blue wingback living room chair, looking on the west wall at a thin black-framed historic portrait of the Stoner Inn on South State. I continually forget, he thought, how much this small village was a part of the Underground Railway. In the 1850’s, George Stoner used to smuggle slaves in the back of his stagecoach to the Inn where they stayed in the basement until they could move north to Canada.  Bishop William Hanby was a conductor on the old Underground. Here I sit in comfort a few blocks away from the present location of Hanby House.

Mother used to volunteer to take children around the place after she retired. Richard’s frown turned to a scowl and he thought; we are all slaves of different sorts today. No more Ohio River to cross, no more underground railway out. Where would we go to be free other than in our heads? Grandma used to say that we kids should study hard and learn what is important in the world, that way no one can ever take it from you. Grandma was born just above the Delaware County line in 1888, the year of the Great Blizzard.

Richard's mind was forming on the family genealogy, both the Greystone's and wife Cyndi's, the Bleacher's. Shoot, he thought, all eight of our grandparents, both sides, were born and raised in Delaware County. Riverton used to end at the county line, now the city stretches up several miles, almost to Freeman Road in Genoa Township. He glanced at his watch and asked, "When is Robert getting home?" No response. This left him with a disagreeable opinion, I thought they were in the kitchen. They are always in the kitchen. He got up from the semi-comfortable wingback chair. His tone sat unchecked as he said, "Cyndi! Connie!" followed with a grumbling mutter, "Where the hell are you two?"

         "What do you mean, where are you two? We are not your children to boss around, buddy boy," snapped Cyndi from the open basement door.

         Richard stood awkwardly at the kitchen entrance, "I didn't say you were. Why didn't you answer?"

         "We were in the basement,” said Connie clearly perturbed.

         Noting both were up the stairs, Richard responded unkindly, "What were you doing down there?"

         "None of your damn business, Richard," rebutted Connie. "None of your damn business." Cyndi's rejoinder sat silently on her face.

         Richard toned down, "I thought you were both in the kitchen."

         "Why, because we're women?" snapped Cyndi.

         Richard stated calmly, "You are always in the kitchen."

         "If we are in the kitchen we are working; we are not sitting on our duffs playing chess or writing," responded Connie.

         "Or playing with our computer toys." Cyndi paused, "You'd think you and your brother would do more around the house. We give you lists and you never do them."

         Connie commented, "Rarely, you rarely do them, Richie and neither does Robert, but rarely."

         "Rob isn't here to defend himself," scolded Richard.

         "Robbie's at that medical conference," piped Connie.

         "Why? He's retired."

         Cyndi responded more kindly, "He's still interested in surgery, Richie."

         The tone stood like Richard, sulking but defiant. "You're saying I'm not interested in anything?"

         Connie responded positively without thinking, "You like your history."

         "You don't need to side with the old goat," said Cyndi angered.

         "I'm not, but he does like history and both like writing poetry." Her eyes threaded a protective look at her sister.

         Cyndi declared, "We are not always in the kitchen, Richard." Her voice choked, "We work hard to keep everything in order."

         Connie, unconsciously caught in her sister's emotion, railed, "And provide happiness."

         A consolatory tone rose in Richard's voice, "You just didn't answer. I didn't know where you were."

         "Why didn't you just get up and come looking?" asked Connie somewhat exasperated.

`         "Did you think we were upstairs ironing clothes?" added Cyndi.

         "I just wondered where you were." He paused like he was going to apologize but did not. He thought, Why didn't you say something if you could hear me? I wouldn't have muttered. Losing the battle, Richard sat down quietly fuming.

         Within the moment Robert entered the side door and strolling into the kitchen he greeted the house with, "Hello, everybody! I'm home. It was a great conference. Very exciting work on invasive aortic valve surgery. Only a three to four inch incision." Silence. Robert walked into the living room. Connie and Cyndi were sitting on the separate ends of the couch waiting for Richard to speak first. Richard sat stubbornly ridged glaring at the dark framed portrait of the old Stoner House on the wall. "What's the argument, Richie?" 

782 words.

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