Mid-morning. Sitting in your bedroom chair
looking out to the north a void exists where the largest of the trees was cut
down yesterday. You can peer further into the thick woods engulfing Muddy
Creek. You can see further into the woods but not through to the other side as
in winter. To see further in is not to see the other side. You have to wait
until winter, boy. - Amorella
I understand. We lost another of our
Class of 1960 yesterday, Tommy James, to pancreatic cancer. At her insistence,
Sandy sat on my left side in our May gathering and Tommy sat on her left. She
was delighted with the arrangement. I feel bad for her and Jean as much as I do
for myself. Tom James and I were not close friends but we had known each other
since grade school, since summer Little League. He was the better athlete and
likable enough, but he ran around with the townies and I with the Minerva Park
bunch. It was good to see him at the May gathering. He was quite witty,
especially with Sandy. Our class is a dwindling crew as is our generation
before the baby boomers. Do we have a name too? I have no idea. Our parents
were the greatest generation; our parents who were also propagating during
World War II as well as after. We had a lot of clouds and rain and thunder
during the night; the sun is just beginning to show itself to our little part
of the world.
Take a break, boy. You are back to your
regular breakfast with a quiet read of the paper along the way. You spoke to
Kim and Owen on the phone and gave it back to Carol for a continued mother and
daughter chat. You are up to Delaware Friday afternoon, arriving around four to
beat the rush hour traffic. You are baby sitting for Owen and Brennan Saturday
afternoon, night, and Sunday morning because Kim and Paul have a wedding in
Cleveland Saturday night, at the stadium. Today, you have been informed that
Carol has to pick her old friend Ann up at the Otterbein Home near Lebanon and
drive her to Judy's (another retired Blue Ash teacher friend) in Milford for
breakfast. You had already planned on buying some new slip on sandals and
another pair of comfortable boat shoes because the old ones are wearing out.
Carol is taking a book and magazines to read along the way and you might as
well take your MacAir. Later, dude. Post.
1806 hours. I have Brothers 19. It is
a bit darker than intended.
Add and post. We'll talk about it later. -
Amorella
***
The Brothers 19, ©2013, rho, draft
Robert
drove up West Main passed the Hanby House then left on Grove passed John Knox
College towards the north entrance of John Knox Cemetery in the 350 Lexus
sedan. He turned left on West Walnut and left into his brother's driveway. Not
much original going on in our town these days, he thought, as we are
practically surrounded by Columbus. Cincinnati touches the Ohio and Cleveland
beaches Erie, but nothing stops Columbus from gobbling the rest of the state.
Ordinary and Ohio go together. This is the way we are.
Robert
smiled upon seeing Lady’s long eyelashes dusting the diamond-shaped windowpanes.
I should have brought Jack with me; they would have enjoyed each other’s
company. He walked to the door, gave a quick knock and entered.
“I’m
upstairs,” shouted Richard.
“It’s
been a few days,” said Rob climbing the steps. “What have you been up to?”
“Not
much.
“Going
by the Hanby House I was thinking about the abolitionists. This was big in the
Underground Railway, several well known conductors lived here, but the town’s
pretty much lost its identity except uptown and the streets closest to the
college; the small town we grew up in.”
“Yeah.
That’s the way it is, Robert. Do you want a beer?”
“I’ll
take the beer.” He rubbed his chin, “What do you think if we had beards?”
Richard
chuckled, “Like the Smith Brothers?”
“Can
you still get their cough drops? I haven’t seen them in years.”
“I
don’t know.”
Robert
paused then asked, “What’s the matter with your set?”
“Nothing,”
replied Richard. “I was thinking about the on/off button and then about how the
real off button is a pulled plug.
Rob
smirked, "One is a button on the set the other dangles from the back like
a tail.”
“The
tail is the power supply,” said Richard, “but if you were a television set you
would think the power supply is always available.”
“The
heart’s our power supply, Richie. We've got nothing to plug in.” Both laughed.
Rob sat irritated by Richard rubbing at his forehead.
“Human
beings have passion, that's as important as the heart, don't you think?”
Robert
chuckled finding his own hand at his forehead for no particular reason. “We are
nothing but a self-reflective biochemical mass.”
“I
agree completely.”
“No
high tech machines are we. We are self-starters born in a puddle of biochemical
wattage.”
“Okay,”
said Richard. “Here’s the thing though, why do we feel connected to the
cosmos?”
“It
is the essence of what we are. It is built into psyches.”
“And
into our genes.”
“Our
genes are our psyches, Richie. It’s only bio-chemical makeup.”
“We
are genetically predisposed."
Without
the slightest hint of doubt, Robert responded, “We are pre-programmed to have
our doubts.”
“We
are our own genes, doubts and all.”
Rob
added, “As are our wives.”
Richard
paused then commented, “We mostly all duplicates of the species Homo sapiens.”
For a short moment he stared at the unplugged television, then he continued,
“We human beings are more analogous with the television than the computer. We
are social centers, or at least it used to be. Earth is our gathering place, as
the home's hearth, villages, towns and cities used to be.”
"We
are but weeds, Richie. Nothing more. Yesterday we were looking at the foliage
in the back yard and Connie said we ought to get rid of the honeysuckle because
it isn't a native. I replied, 'Neither are we.'"
"That
doesn't make us weeds though."
"I
think it does. We act like we are weeds. We take over what is really native in
the world and manipulate it to our own liking."
"We're
native too as far as the world is concerned."
"So
are weeds by any other name."
“I
do agree that people are more like televisions than computers. I would like to
think we are also computer-like in that we are creators and designers.”
Robert
spied the wireless router on the floor below the window. “Why do you have your
router on the floor?”
“So
people can’t pick up the signal so easily.”
“You
got it secured?”
“Of
course Rob,” sighed Richard.
“What
did we ever do without the Internet?”
“Or
our cell phones.”
“Long
ago, human beings only had their dreams,” added Robert.
"In
our youth we had our imagination and our games.”
"We
played cause and effect with observational errors."
"We
still do," responded Richard.
Robert's
natural smile with a hint of a smirk rose to the occasion, "So do our
in-law natural sisters."
A
statement from Richard slid in, "This is a good reason to go down and get those
beers." Both chuckled at the weedy darkness.
778 words
***
2106
hours. Grandma's Story 19 begins one of the more fun stories because it goes on
for these three chapters and it includes Merlyn as one of the characters by the
end of the book, Chapter 21. It is 6817 words long and I am not sure how I can
shorten this to around 750 words and say the same thing. This will definitely
be a fun challenge.
As with Dead 19 we will work on Brothers 19
again later. The difficult part for you is keeping the initial passion for
these chapters while deleting material you love. Not only is Merlyn in these
selections but Renaldo and Criteria. To keep with the fun let's be sure to
include the whole of the concluding poetry in each. Here's the conclusion of
Grandma 19.
*****
. . . Their search continued, not for the bones of the brother of
Jesus, but for anyone of Jesus' father's or mother’s bloodline. No one knew the
truth then, nor do people know it now. Most don’t even know the truth about
their own family lines let alone their royal ones.
***
Criteria
and Renaldo stand on one square or another
Surrounded
by the reflexive line of political division;
You
know the reflection of ‘I’ll do this, but I’d rather,’
In
the moral circumstance of personal decision.
So
together it comes three divisions in one
Today,
a Past, and a Future is spun;
One
by one through Chapter Twenty-one to deliver
A
slow march of freed words from across the River.
Words
delivered by Ferryboat Captain, Leo Lamar
From
the dead of humanity tilting the Living ajar;
Filtering
through humankind like a somber dew
Through a body of friendship, from Grandma to you.
From smiling Grandma's white teeth and black gums
Merlyn's mind in a Future this way comes.
[poetry - 117 words]
***
I
really don't see how this can be done, Amorella, even saying I go to 810 words or thereabouts as total.
You always have your doubts, boy. I'll
provide some help. Tomorrow we take a practice draft and begin deleting and
eventually we'll see what happens. Post. - Amorella
