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Showing posts from February, 2018

A Secret in the House

The secret was our name. Somewhere along the way, it got trimmed. Shortened.  Nobody said when. Did anybody know when? It was a tidy 6 letters. It proclaimed its neutrality.  GRE E NE and demanded put your questions away. This is how you grow silence. Once, in a box of old letters, I saw the original. Hey, if this is my father's father's father, why is his name longer than mine. Who decided? How?  The loudest silence centers on Why? A name has power.  Who gets that power and how much is not always something we can control. Those who came before me, most directed by this secret, did not remain long enough for me to question. They were gone before I could say, "Tell me the story and tell it how it was told to you." Sometimes I like to think the secret is safe with me.  But I know its worth lies in the unveiling. Veil...cover...hidden...buried... I long to take back the need; it is the map leading to places and ages past. Those on whose lives and sacrifices I

Curbside

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I love period pieces.  It's the detail that attracts me the most.  Like going into an antique store and seeing the Christmas ornaments that existed in your childhood, watching a movie or TV show set in the 1950s or 60s offers up those little surprises. Recently on a TV series set in the late 1950s, I noticed everything from cigarette packs to breakfast cereals.  The parking meters took pennies then.  How impossible does that sound now? It got me thinking about all that has vanished from our shared popular culture.  I soon realized that one of the mainstays of my childhood is not relegated to misty memories: the milkman. I think three must be people driving trucks around in 2018 who drop off dairy products somewhere.  Perhaps in more rural settings, but there was a time when neighborhood streets were familiar territory for early morning milk trucks.  In my neighborhood, there were Adohr, Carnation, Arden, Golden State, and a few others all vying to be the one who dropped off a

Suspenders Part V

Part V in which the evening ends and we all become dearly departed from one another's lives Apparently, there was some set of rules in place that would govern the behavior of all in the aftermath of this group dinner date.  It was fairly simple.  Each person would receive a phone call telling them that either someone or no one was interested in seeing them again.  Sounds cold-blooded.  It was, but it was also a way to move beyond. By the time my phone call arrived, about a week later, I'd figured out what had happened.  All three of us men were clearly interested in only Bonnie.  Susan and Marsha, though very nice people and fairly good company, inflicted no sparks.  Bonnie was clearly the best looking of the 3 women and given the conversation was less than stimulating, it was all we had to go on.  After all, we were men.  We came into the evening with all the sex-role conditioning that growing up in the 1950s had to offer.  Not that we hadn't evolved.  In fact, Marvin a

Suspenders IV

I'd love to tell you a slow account of how that evening went.  Unfortunately, it was not memorable.  What stands out is how much wine was consumed by our rival, Pete.  He was the only one in the room who knew nobody else prior to this meeting.  His attempts at conversation were shallow and diminished dramatically when he got stuck on describing how he likes to shave in the shower. "Do you?' he kept asking Martin and me. As Pete continued to suck the air out of the dining room with these nerve-wracking attempts to draw people out and prove his ease and comfort with present company, he kept drinking wine.  When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, Martin leaned over and whispered in my ear, "We got dis guy beat." I can't remember the food we ate and much about the remaining conversation.  With the exception of Pete, everybody seemed rather serene.  Maybe the thought that none of us would ever see each other again helped our exchanges. When we went arou

Suspenders/III

"Here's the deal," Martin explained. "I answered dis ad and I need you to complete the three men.  Just say yes, and in a couple a days I'll fill you in on da details." Martin went on to explain that there was another guy interested and that the woman he spoke to was anxious to pull the ad and get on with the dinner. I said yes. Then I forgot about it until a call the following week. Martin called and explained the date was on for the following Saturday night.  Someone would call me, ask me a few questions and then, if I passed muster, I'd be given an address and a time.  I'd also be given an item to bring, something like a loaf of bread or a bottle of wine. I could bring both, I thought.  Even flowers?  But I soon realized that there might be rules.  I further realized that every time I thought about this upcoming evening a new question entered my mind. I knew the entire idea was contrived to begin with, but in the following days, I realized t