Commentality – Lotsa Comments ….

There’s a town here in Ohio called Sugarcreek. It touts itself as a little taste of Switzerland, as a piece of Old World Magic, While it is a bit of a tourist trap, it does have some good stores, a very understanding pharmacy, and a few other things that make it an occasional worthwhile stop for the wife.

So a few days ago, she made a trip there, and I tagged along, mainly to blow the stink off me. She was mostly done with her stuff, and I was in need of a sit thanks to my gamy hip, so I headed over to the little park with the giant cuckoo clock (yes, I said Sugarcreek was a tourist trap!). The park bench was partially occupied by an older gent with a large white beard, just sitting there looking rather despondent. I walked over, and asked if he minded if I sat down. He shook his head, and I sat. Then he looked over at me and asked a question.

“What’s wrong with these people?” He gestured towards the passing pedestrians. “They have their heads stuck in their phones. They don’t talk to one another. They don’t notice anything!”

I replied, “Well, that’s how a lot of people are these days. They live their lives on their phones. A lot of them claim they couldn’t live without their phones!”.

“But how can they see the magic all around them? How can they trade stories and learn legends if they don’t talk to each other? How can they enjoy the spirit of the season if they’re wrapped up in themselves?”

That one got me – mainly, because I agreed with him. I took a moment, then I slowly replied, “You know, there are some people out there who aren’t wrapped in themselves. I know a few, bloggers I talk to online.”

He smiled, and pointed to me. “And what about you? No phone glued to your face, I see. And I sense a bit of a writer in you, as well.”

I grinned. “I don’t use smartphones. I worked with computers for decades, I know how they think, and I don’t trust the little buggers!”.

That made him laugh – a big, booming laugh that made me chuckle in spite of myself.

He looked at me, and said, “I sense in you and your friends the spirit that I thought might be lacking in this world. Thank you for giving me a much needed spiritual boost. I really must be going now.”

I stood up and said, “Yeah, I need to go find my wife. You take care. It was nice meeting you.”

He smiled and said. “It was nice meeting you too, John. Merry Christmas!”

I turned to walk away, then paused. Wait – I hadn’t told him my name. How the heck did he know? I spun around and ….. he was gone. No way a man of his girth could move that fast! Yet the street was empty, no sign of the bearded stranger. As I stood there staring, my wife walked up and asked if I was ready to go. I muttered agreement, and headed back to the van, putting my hand in my pocket against the cold. I suddenly felt a piece of paper that had not been in there a few minutes ago! When we got to the van, I quickly pulled out the paper and looked at it, and to my wondering eyes, saw the following:

Thanks Again. And I’ll Work On That Puppy.

S.C.

To All My Readers, The Very Merriest Of Christmases, The Happiest Of New Years, And The Very Best Of The Holiday Season!

A bowl on the stair.
No need for it there.
It just holds water,
Not a thing odder.

But I leave it there
On that particular stair.
I keep it pristine,
Filled with water so clean.

For a bowl on a stair
Is not just why it’s there.
It’s also a prayer
For my gone
But ne’er forgotten
Freya

One of the few advantages of living in this area has been our adoption of cats. I was always a dog person, until our first cat was delivered to us by her mother. Hot on the heels of moving into our current abode, we ended up with an entire litter. Among that motley crew of kittens was a gorgeous yellow kitty. There was only one name for her – Freya.

Freya lived a long life, and a happy one. A beautiful kitten became a magnificent, if slightly portly, cat. She was always sweet, overseeing the newer cats coming on board, and gladly took over the duties of grande dame when our beloved Princess died. She was always there with a snuggle, a nuzzle, or just a slightly cacophonous meow of “hello”. She remained, to the end, our Goddess.

Note the past tense. Freya died about an hour ago. She had been sick for a couple weeks, but she went rapidly downhill today, and died, heart-breakingly, in spasms of pain. It didn’t last long, thankfully.

A tribute will follow. When I’ve had time. Until then, goodbye, Goddess.

For over a year, we’ve had no dog since our Shane passed. 9 days ago, we put an end to that miserable period by adopting a beautiful brindle Mastiff. Maya, short for Amaiyah, is a sweet, lovable, playful pup, a funny, silly big goof.

Unfortunately, those last two words are the problem.

Maya isn’t housebroken. No problem, except she isn’t learning. She has no experience with cats, and wants to play with them as if they were dogs. Imagine a lion playing with a rabbit – from the rabbit’s point of view. She’s had no leash training, and has one speed – fast-forward. The wife has bruises and I have a strained leg from her pulling and slamming into us on walks.

Yeah, most of those are piddly things. But there’s one other issue – she’s bigger than our Mastiff Sam was, and she’s only 7 months old. We, on the other hand, are both over 60 and have some mobility issues. The wear and tear of so much dog is too much for me to demand of my wife. Me, I’d gladly accept some bruises and aches, but Tamy has to work to support us, and I can’t ask that of her.

So, Maya is back with the lady we got her from. It’ll be calmer and simpler around here, I keep telling myself. But it’s no use. We may not have gotten Maya housebroken, but I sure am. Here, in a dogless house. Broken.

  In this season of love, light, family, gifts, and warmth, we should remember that there are many who find no joy in this world. For too many, especially children, Christmas is just another day. So I ask you to remember that,

In This Season:

A Christmas tree is nothing more than a filthy metal pole topped by a glaring orange streetlight.
Snowflakes are concrete dust from blasted buildings and ash from fires.
A feast is a watery soup or a cup of thin tea.
Holiday lights are strings of tracer rounds crisscrossing in the night sky.
Candles aren’t festive, but the only source of light and heat.

In this season, we strive to be at our best. But why for just one day, or one week? The spirit of this season, regardless of faith or creed, should be our everyday goal, not something we drag out and dust off once a year.

So I will wish you all the best of the season, whatever holidays you follow. May the light and love of this season be yours, and I wish you and your loved ones all the best. And please, think of those who are less fortunate than you, and as always, please remember all those who stand guard during this season to guard our celebrations, and may they all come home, soon and safe.

I had hoped my return to blogging was going to be a humourous look at my aging process. Events on Tuesday evening torpedoed that, but gave rise to a partially-written emotional introspection, albeit with a hopeful ending.

Sadly, neither will happen here. Instead, please find a simple, and somewhat formalised, comment on recent events. Please don’t view the style as detached and uncaring; rather, view it as a necessary separation from extremely sorrowful events.

I regret to inform you that our newfound kitten, to be known as Tuesday, died Thursday morning, July 13, around 9:30 a.m. She was rescued from our back sidewalk on the previous Tuesday evening before 7:30 p.m. She had been abandoned by her mother, was about 2-4 weeks old, and was nothing but skin and bones. Despite our nest efforts, we could not save her from her circumstances.

Tuesday’s Child is terribly thin,
Facing too many odds to possibly win.
Wednesday’s kitty seemed full of hope,
Yet was too tiny to truly cope.
Thursday’s Baby seemed okay,
But Death would soon come her way.

Goodbye, little Tuesday. Ill-met, black Thursday.

Well, dang, after being locked out of my blog for years, somebody makes a comment, and suddenly, the gates open up! I’d say Hallelujah, but I’ve got a rotten cold and have lost my voice, so I’ll jus type Hallelujah. Hallelujah!

See? Told ya I’d type Hallelujah! (No, I haven’t changed a bit. Yes, I’m still freakin’ nuts. Good for me, bad for you, so take cover!) 😀

I’ll do a longer post tomorrow, bring y’all up to speed. Until then, thanks to new buddy MI6 for getting the doors open, and welcome back!