The Old Women

Sometimes when there is too much on my mind, I go for walks. There is no destination in mind, or no hidden agenda of shedding those extra holiday pounds that seem to lately pack on so easily. I just walk and think. I ponder everything; from a love life defeated, questionable ethics of the previous weekend or my unforseeable future and what lies ahead. I never find answers, for those are not spelled out upon the trail; however how nice would it be if you found a trail that led you thru life like an old pick a path novel. You come to a fork in the road, one leads to success and glory, the other leads to a moderate family life. Instead I find nothing on the walks but a little solace to ponder life.

As I strolled along with my eyes following a wind drifted twig, I came upon an old women sitting on a bench. She had tears welted in her eyes and did not look up as I slowed my pace and stood before her.

"What's wrong, mam?" I asked "Are you lost," for she appeared of age enough to have wondered away from one of the homes we created to ignore the pending realization of the death for our loved ones.

"No." She answered matter of factly. I waited for her to continue with a reason; however she seemed quite content with her answer.

"Are you hurt," again, searching for reason.

"No." again, providing none.

"Well is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." With this answer I decided to just walk on, forget about this old women and her angst against the world. I had bigger problems to think about on my own. Yet as I walked away, I felt a pull against my back, as though there was something there I needed to know, something that was not being told. So I turned around and decided to re-address the old women in a new manner.

"Women, what in God's name could be bothering you?" I Demanded to know.

With this she smiled and looked up, "Now you remind me of my husband. I will tell you whats bothering me, however first you must tell me what is bothering you."

So I offered a trade of miseries, self doubts and issues, but all that came out was, "Well, I don't know what the future holds for me or if I will find happiness." That summed it up. I knew I wasn't unhappy. I read the papers and watched the news to realize what lies out there that can truely bring unhappiness; famine, war, disease. However, I still knew I didn't know if I was happy or not.

"Happiness is what you make of being happy. Some people can't be happy unless they obtain a goal, some can't be happy if they are alone, some fear happiness and would rather rely on anger to push people away to avoid ever feeling sadness. Is it any of those reasons you have yet to find your happiness?" she questioned.

"No." I answered.

"Well, we did have an agreement," she almost mocked me with a smile on her wrinkled face. "I'm not sure whats left to be happy about. I have found my happiness, over and over; however feel now that it is all gone and whats left it just a reflection of the past."

"Do you not have children and grand-children that bring you happiness?"

"They have their own search, just as yourself, for their happiness. They are not here to bring me happiness. That is something one must find upon their own."

"What about your husband, didn't he bring you happiness?" I was confused, she seems to have people the love her, and that she loves; however has a selfish view of happiness.

"No, my husband did not bring me happiness, we were happy together. Happiness must be found on ones on term before you can ever have happiness with another. Otherwise you do nothing but rely on them for your happiness and when they fail to bring you constant happiness, you are unhappy."

"What made you happy?" I now sought the answer to lead me to my capturing my own conquest. "Did you find a good job?"

"No."

"Did you win a bunch of money?"

"No."

"Did you become famous?"

"No." she answered this last time with a sharpness to her voice, as though I was not getting something she was trying to say...yet all she said was no. I sat down next to her with a sigh. "What then will ever bring me happiness?" The question was no longer about her.

"I just appreciated things more one day. I stopped seeking answers and appreciated the answers that had befallen upon me. One day the sunrise looked more beautiful; from cloudy days to rip roaring colors fascading across the horizon. I listened to music more, and not just more bands and songs; however I listened to the way it made me feel and appreciated the emotions it created. I appreciated the taste of everything I tried, even if I didn't like the taste, I appreciated the tastes that were conveyed. One day I stopped looking for how my day should start, what music is the best and what my favorite food is.....and simply enjoyed everything around me. Thats when I knew I found happiness."

"Well, you needed to have means to sustain life, what did you do for a living when you discovered your new found glory?" I questioned apathetically, for this was not the lesson that would lead me to my own happiness.

"I was a seamstress in a factory during the Great War effort," she retorted.

"Well, that must have made you happy then, when we won the Great War." I knew there had to be a deeper meaning to her happiness.

"Don't get me wrong, young man, what we did together to stop true evil and tyranny did feel great, however I lost many friends and even my first love to the Great War."

"Then how could you have been happy, you should have been beguiled in self misery and despair."

"I was."

"Yet you say this is when you found happiness, is this just a game with me now." I stood up and began walking away; yet again the pull felt as I was trying to push my way thru ocean currents and out to sea. It felt cold and dangerous for no reason at all; so I returned to ask more questions.

"Okay, so you were sad about the friends you lost, then did that not ruin your new found appreciation towards life?"

"No, I grieved over those lost and cried for a long time; however I still reflected on who those people were and what they had meant to me. I appreciated having known them and the laughter we shared and the sadness we overcame. I was sad for their lose, but happy I had known them."

"So happiness is when you begin looking at life as a cup that is half full?" I finally got it.

"No."

"Damn." I actually smiled at my presumptious knowledge.

"Happiness is always a cup that is full. You allow the negativities to enter the cup, however there is no room for it to fill the cup. It simply enters the cup as though you are pouring water into a carafee that is already full, the water enter's and mixes; however water continues to pour out."

"How do you know it's not the old water left in the carafee that is pouring out as the new water settles to the bottom?" I asked judgingly.

"When you take a drink, the water still tastes fresh and pure after water has breached it's rim. If it were not the old water, the water that you discovered to fill your tastebuds with satisfaction, then that water would be bitter and stale."

"I think I finally understand." I began to stand to continue my walk with this new perspective on life.

"You are listening with your ear's and mind young man, seeking answers, therefore at this time you don't understand."

"Is there more to learn?"

"Yes." That was the first time she answered yes, and for that I knew there was a lot more to learn.

We sat there with a cool breeze blowing at our backs, just enough to make you button up your coat. I could hear the wind whistling thru the tree's as though attempting to calm my nerves. You could smell the must of a stagnant pond, where the geese and ducks were fighting over crumbs left by a small child. The hard bench rested harshly against my back, as though someone made the seat for a landmark and not for a place of reflection. I looked to my left at the old lady, yet she didn't seem uncomfortable. She rested comfortably as though she had just finished a long walk.

"So how did you meet your husband?" I asked, trying to lighten the topic.

"He worked at the grocer on the corner from my apartment. I would stop by there for things after work, I couldn't afford much; however found myself stopping by even if just to buy an apple. To get the chance to see him always completed my day. No matter what he would ask if I needed help with my groceries, even if I only had a few items. I always said no, but thank you. This went on for a while, almost a game. It built that anticipation and gave me that excitement throughout the day. Then one day, he asked me if I needed help with my groceries and I said yes. He walked me home and that was that."

"If you liked him so much, why not talk to him sooner? It sounds as though you waited so long for something that could have came sooner," I questioned.

"Sometimes the thought of something, the suspense, can be just as rewarding as the actual completion of a goal. I looked foward each day to just seeing him and could tell each time as I walked thru that door that he was excited as well. If I talked to him right away, then I could have found out he was a dullard as he stammered on trying to figure out why I was making conversation. He could have laughed in my face at my boldness and giggled to his friends as I walked out the door. I perfered to just enjoy the simplicity of a possible blossuming love interest, versus force feeding something that might not be there."

"You had said you were happy before you met your husband, then why so concerned on being hurt or him creating sadness," I challenged.

"Just because one is happy in the soul, does not mean one can't be hurt or grief stricken. It wouldn't have crushed me, at this time I have began enjoying life on my own terms; however there defintly would have been a lot of chocholate ice cream that night if he would have scoffed at me." She had a smile on her face of endearment as though my questions were of pure amusement for her, as though she knew some great secret that I had yet to uncover.

"What made you finally decide to say yes?"

"He had asked 15 times, I planned from the first time he asked to say yes on the 16th time if he kept asking."

"You counted times, was this just a game to you?"

"My dear boy, everything in life is a game if you look at it the right way," she pointed out matter of factly. "For example, did you go to college?"

"Yes, I did mam, but I didn't play any sports or anything, was more of a book worm.

"What was your goal for going to college? What were you trying to acheive?"

"Get my degree so I could get a good job I guess?"

"Well that was the game to give you motivation. Each course was a stepping block on your progress, each passing grade a conquest fullfilled toward the end reward. You set yourself a game by setting yourself a goal. If you didn't have any interest in the game, then you would have never one, hence would have stopped going to college. You need to make things interesting for yourself to stay on a path. Otherwise, we would all get bored and stray away from that intended goal."

"Well now I'm stuck in a rut where I don't know what it is I want to do, I got my degree and am doing something I thought I would love; however find myself miserable each day. Your saying I need to make a game out of it to keep me intrigued?"

"No silly boy, you can't create a game out of something you have lost interest. If so, then we would have tic tac toe instead of the Superbowl. Tic tac toe can be fun when you are a child and learning fundamental steps in life; however the game becomes monotonous and boring. The end reward does not feel like it's worth the steps to get to that reward. May I ask what it is that brought you to this job, what was the end reward that you were searching for?" She asked dilligently.

"Money of course, I could make a lot money if I keep to the grindstone and work my way up."

"So we have now learned you need more then money to make you happy, this is a start for us. It's getting late and I must be on my way, it was nice talking to you." She got up to leave, slowly rising to her thick heeled shoes.

"Thats it? Of course there is more to life then money.... I've read that on hallmark cards. I have so many more questions."

"Well young man, I can't catch my death out here out here, but I do walk every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time. This bench is usually my half way point for my rest. You are welcome to join me whenever you would like." With that she became sauntering her way down the path.

Letter from a Madman

Dear Emma,

They're almost here.... I could feel them closing in as though flies on festering meat left to rot in the desert. I don't know how they found me, were you involved in giving up my location? If so, I can't blame you.... there is little left now that you can depend on and now you made a choice based on instincts rather then betrayel. Every footstep falling past door brings a shiver thru my spine. Although my gun is waiting for the instinctual reaction of my hand, staring at me from my desk while waiting, I still wonder if I will be fast enough. Or even worse if they know better and instead wait steadily for me a loft while I least expect it. Passively allowing my guard to drop as I take another sip of my whiskey at the bar downstairs....trying to calm the nerves that should not be becalmed.

I have one favor to ask and one favor only, try to understand why I did what I did. It was not for selfish gain or an attempt of trickery and deciet; however was just an ends to a means. If my plan would have succeded we could have enjoyed a new life, one without the hardships we tried to face together as a daily routine. We could have burned the crops and let loose the livestock as we sipped on champagne, walking away from a wood warped den of hell enlocked in each others arms. Our only plans for the future could have been new sights and experiences entangled in passion and a new finding in each others hearts. I say new findings for they would have just added to the great discovery of our love we once sustained years ago.

There is a knock at the door and I fear I must answer it..... If this is all there is then please know I loved you.

Ok, that was just room service, it seems I'm on my wits end and forgot I ordered the salisbury steeak for dinner, however it might be poisoned. This is a chance I must take for the odd's of death by posioning I fear now is a lot less then being shot in the back as I walk to the corner deli.

How can things run so afoul when you plan so carefully? Life can sometimes feel like a straight line. I'm here and want to get there, therefore I need to do this, this and this. Follow the path of planning and the line will unfold in front of you like the edge of a plateau; you know where to go because if you stray off the path you will fall off the edge. However life is not like that, it's more of a rolling hill. Your at one point of the hill and know your destination is on the other side; however as you walk up the hill you are finding yourself confused on where the top of the hill is located, it feels more like you're rolling off to oneside and instead find yourself heading off of your path and into dangerous territory, one in which the wolves are waiting for your weary body to give into exhaustion and sink to the ground.

That is where I lay today, the wrong side of the hill. The fangs of the hunting wolves are replaced with the thin shiny blade of my unforseen enemies knives, their disease pussed dripping teeth replaced by the bullet that is sure to find the soft tissue of my brain. I wait propped behind a bush, hoping the shadows will evade my detering future, the slowly sinking sun will give me the opportunity to find solace. Yet they know where I am and toy with me by singing their deafening blood curdling howls, I can almost hear my name in their breath.

I miss the stinging sensation of the way your crisp blues eyes could look into my soul. For a while you made me the better man, one concentrated on making sure we had food on our table and passion in our souls. Your laugh would grip my heart as though a shockwave was sent thru me. I appreciated you for this, for you didn't even know you were doing anything. If only I could go back and realize the importance of simplicity as compared to the hardships of trying to achieve abundancy. We both know now that is too late.

Now I sit alone listening to the slow dripping of a leaky faucet in the small bathroom adjacent to my room. That dripping keeps me alert, for if I stop hearing it I know I've stopped paying attention to my surroundings and have left myself vulnerable. Drip, Drip, Drip. They won't catch me not listening. I'm listening so intently I can hear the sweat breaking the surface of my skin, yet all I hear are card players collecting their tips and the swish a fan as the madame waits for them to cash in. They won't trick me though, they won't be cashing in until I turn my back to their steel cold gaze.

I reveled in the feeling of glory when at first I mistakingly assumed my plan had work and we were now wealthy. How could they be such fools, I bewaringly questioned, as I snuck out of town at dusk. You would thing such dangerous men would be more aware of a plan as simplicite, yet intricate, as mine. Nope, they had too much confidence, to much self praise and doubt that anyone would be willing to initiate trickery and rob them of their most precious possession. However looking back, I think that is what they wanted, to give me false hope of ease and security, for this to them is just a game. They already have everything they need and now sit upon life with translucent boredom. They were waiting for me to attempt my struggle for absolute glory, for that is when their game truely began.

A fox is the symbol for cunning and craftiness; yet it is just a pawn in the game of hunters and hounds. At most times it is the confidence of that fox that will end him in the hunters cross hairs and the jaws of the hunters best friend. Speed and agility can only get you so far when you head thru the forest in circles, as you run they walk, as you hide they stalk. Just another Sunday away from the wife and whining kids for them; however for you the ulitimate sacrifice is capture. I've become that fox.

I would just give it back, a nice little package with a letter attached, "can't we let the game end here? You've had your fun and I've learned the importance of things of non-importance". They would laugh and jester at this and slow their search as though finding a bloody trail leading to their wounded victim. Instead I must continue the battle to find myself on the right side of this jaded hill.

So now I must say goodbye, for I feel their hearts beating on the opposite side of my door. I wish I could give you this gift for you to go on and find the glory of life you so much deserve; however they will surely take it and set it out for anyone to grab, tempting their next victim and pawn of their fruitless game. I wish you luck my dear, for my own ends here.

Sincerly yours forever........


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Bad Luck Boating

Nothing is worse then breaking down on the water when you have big plans for the day. Last week a 47’ Grand Banks went out for a day cruise from Tacoma to Seattle. They had their boat serviced earlier in the month and everything checked out. With no problems in the foreseeable future they set out for a nice time on the sound. Of course, that’s all of our expectations as we leave the dock.
The 47’ Grand Banks stopped off at the fuel dock to make sure they had plenty of gas to make their round trip. After fueling up, the Captain attempted to start the engine; however instead they heard the worst noise to hear at the beginning of your cruise… click, click, click. Their batteries were dead. After realizing they had left their jump pack in their garage, they contacted Vessel Assist for a jumpstart. The BoatU.S. dispatch center relayed the call to the Vessel Assist Tower out of Tacoma, who successfully was able to jumpstart the boat. The 47’ Grand Banks was back on the water and headed north.
After approximately an hour later, the BoatU.S. dispatcher that initially assisted the owner of the Grand Banks received another call from the mariner. With a huff and a puff, they requested assistance again. This time they ran across a floating dock rope in the water and fouled their prop. Thinking their day was ruined, they expected the slow tow back to Tacoma, arriving to port with their heads down and ego’s deflated. Luckily, the Vessel Assist Tower was able to do a dive to avoid the long tow back and un-foul the prop. The Grand Banks was once again underway!
After enjoying dinner in Seattle, they Captain and passengers decided after such a hectic day they better get back to Tacoma and set out again with expectations of a smooth journey. Shortly after these false hopes filled their hearts, they were once again dead in the water. Their boat was overheating with no sign or reason for the problem. Once again contacting Vessel Assist, they requested assistance. The Vessel Assist Tower got their boat under tow and tucked them away into their slip in Tacoma.
The dispatcher who assisted the boat and saw them thru their rough journey received a call from the BoatU.S. Member about a week later. They thanked her for the rapid assistance and her sympathetic tone. They stated they returned to their boat the next day to investigate the overheating problem; however the boat started fine. To test it, they ran it to Seattle and back and guess what….. not one problem. Sometimes you can blame nothing when it comes to boating except bad luck.

Sinking Ships

I'm sitting at the party, watching all these fools walk around.
Will they even notice if the world came crashing down?
Or are they more concerned with the spot on her new red dress.
Someone get some club soda to clean up this ugly mess.

They're on a sinking ship, watching the life rings float by
They're not worried anymore.
They'll be more content sitting on the ocean floor.

She's sitting on the back seat, back seat of the bus.
That's where they told her to sit and not to make a fuss.
She stands up tall and walks to the front seat.
Walking pass the others, she shows them not to accept defeat.

They're on a sinking ship, watching the life ring float by.
They're not worried anymore, someone will lead them back to shore.

He's sitting on his throne, looking down at the world.
His power has gotten too big and spiraled out of control.
Will the masses let him lead as they look to the floor.
Or will a new leader break down that locked door.

We're on a sinking ship, watching the life rings float by.
We don't need to worry anymore, someone will knock down that locked door
and show us how to get back to shore.

Introduction

I can't lie, I think too much. Some of us are blessed with the ability to clear our minds and empty the chasm we know as our self consciensce thought. I'm not one of those people. Instead my mind is constantly plagued by thought; some of the thoughts have substance, such as a project at work or tasks I need to complete for the day. Some are of transperancy, thoughts without substance. The thoughts that develop from the wary look of an old women on a park bench, the smell of hot dogs at 7-11 circling for hours roasting on sheer metal, the sad goodbye of a lost love that I've yet to meet. These thoughts are constant and empowering, ideas for random stories that plague my mind and tidbits of amusement that cause me to smile. I would like to share both with you; for one to try to free up some space in the old chrome dome to allow for more constructive thoughts and two, maybe it make you smile as well.