Herkamer and Gertrude The List Part 3

Yesterday, Herkamer was still reeling from the startling wake up with pots and pans that he received from Gertrude. That along with a long list of chores always frustrated Herkamer, and he decided to take the day for relaxing. However, as he began to call out to Gertrude to notify her of his decision, he found her found her outside trying to start the mower after countless calls and searches everywhere within the house. Herkamer went to Gertrude's aid because he felt if he started the mower for her, he could go back to bed and rest a little longer. Herkamer had just chivalrously started the mower, turned away, and was heading toward the door when he heard Gertrude say...

“Did you think I was out here getting this ready for me? Oh no, Herky, I was just giving you a head start. Now, come, come, get this mowing done because there is a lot more on the list, and if we don't finish it today, we won't have it ready when my mother arrives tomorrow.” Herkamer pursed his lips and broadened his shoulders. This was the big moment. He was finally going to be brave enough to tell Gertrude how he really felt about “her list.” When suddenly, he folded again, gritted his teeth, and went to take the mower from Gertrude.

Gertrude quickly released the mower to Herkamer, and gave him a few more commands just before she went back inside. Herkamer began to mumble and mow, mumble and mow, grumble and mow when suddenly the mower stopped. “What the...” Herkamer said angrily as he bent down to check the mower engine. He pulled the rope to try to start it again, then again, then again. He twisted the fuel switch and tried it again. Still the mower wouldn't start. It was then his eyes widened and his lips tightened. His head twisted a little to the side when he thought of the gas. “Did she put gas in this thing? She better have put gas in this thing.” He said through his teeth as he opened the fuel cap. Sure enough, the mower had no gas.

Herkamer went to the storage shed to retrieve the gas can, however, when he got there, the can was empty. In fact, all four gas cans were empty. Herkamer was nearly at the boiling point. He murmured as he walked back into the house, picked up his car keys, took one of the cans, and started back outside to drive to the gas station. He only stopped a moment to hear Gertrude question, “Herky, why did you stop mowing. You know we have so many things to do today. Why do you always delay when it comes to chores...” She was still talking when he walked out the door.

Herkamer's thoughts were raging as he drove ferociously down the road. He only paused a moment when he saw the blue and red lights flashing behind him. He looked down to see that he was speeding. “Oh shoot!” he said as he slowly pulled the car to the roadside. After a moment or two a tall, muscular officer walked to his window and said, “Fifty five in a thirty five? Where is the fire buddy? License and registration, now!” It was only then that Herkamer remembered that he forgot his wallet. He scrambled through papers on the front seat; he looked over the visor, and he checked the glove box. He could only find a registration from two years ago, so he turned to the officer who was now being annoyed by Herkamer's delay, and said...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude The List Part 2

Yesterday Herkamer was awakened at six thirty in the morning to the clanging of loud pots and pans on a Saturday. His first exposure to the day was a “honey do” list provided by his lovely wife Gertrude, and after stirring himself awake, he took one long look at the list and decided that his day was not going to be filled with all these chores, but would be filled with relaxation. He tore the list in pieces and called out to Gertrude and said...

“Gertrude, please come into the bedroom.” She did not respond, so he shouted louder. “Gertrude, please come into the bedroom!” She still did not respond. Herkamer was frustrated, rose up angrily from the bed, and walked into the hallway. “Gertrude!” he shouted. “Gertrude!” he yelled once more and then mumbled under his breath. He walked through the living room, the kitchen, the front rooms and in every portion of the house and continued to call her. Finally, he looked outside.

Gertrude was outside in the dark of the morning dawn pulling vociferously on the mower rope. Herkamer watched as she yanked over and over again. He knew the mower was temperamental and required a certain twist of the fuel switch to start, but he just watched her for a few moments. Then he began to think.

“If I get that mower started, she will be mowing for at least two hours. I can go back to bed, and I love the humming sound of a mower when I sleep.This will be awesome.” Herkamer decided to be a hero and help Gertrude, so he walked outside, acted as though he was a chivalrous knight, and softly took Gertrude's hands from the mower pull rope. With a slight twist of the fuel switch, Herkamer pulled on the rope one more time, and the mower started. He kissed his bride's hands, put them back on the mower, and began to walk inside. Herkamer was feeling quite noble and was readying his eyes for that soft slumber when he heard Gertrude's voice say...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude The List

Herkamer had barely opened his eyes on Saturday morning when he noticed “the list” hanging from the nightstand next to the bed. It was the list of lists the “honey-do list”, and Herkamer knew it's required allegiance, it's expected fulfillment, and it's demanding of time. Exhaustion set in before he even started, and he turned to try for just a few winks more before he had to role out of bed.

Suddenly loud clanging pots and pans startled Herkamer from his restarted daze, and as his eyes flew open once again, there stood Gertrude with a kitchen spoon and two pans. “Time to get up sleepy-head” she stated and continued, “we're already getting a late start. It's six thirty!”. “Six thirty?” Herkamer mumbled, “on a Saturday morning?” he questioned. “Yes, yes, yes. There's lots to do today, and you need to get started early or you will run out of daylight. So, up, up, up, Herky. Let's get going,” Gertrude stated as she left the room for a moment. Herkamer rose slowly and looked at the list.

Mow the grass. Trim the bushes. Get flowers from the store and plant them on the east end of the house. Put ant killer on the numerous ant beds in the yard. Pull the weeds off the fence in the yard. Clean and sort out the garage, and that was just the start. Herkamer stopped for just a moment, looked into the sky, murmured “why, why why didn't you stop me?”, and plopped down on the bed once again in exasperation.

“Herky, are you up?” he heard questioned from just outside the bedroom door. Herkamer shot up again and said, “Yes, I'm getting dressed” which was his first lie of the day, but he felt justified in his misery. Every Saturday it was the same thing. List after list after list after list. Never was there a day of relaxation, and never was there a day to just watch the ball games. Never was there a day to just take a walk, ride a bike, play some catch, fish, or play tennis or golf. It was always list after list after list.

After he sat for a moment more, Herkamer remembered one of his dad's favorite sayings, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”, and in that moment, Herkamer decided there needed to be a change. He shouted loudly for Gertrude to come to his room, and as she walked through the door, he tore the list and said,...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Buying Carpet Part 4

Yesterday we left Gertrude and Herkamer within a heated discussion over a new found desire for new carpet. Gertrude felt that there was a great need for new flooring, and although Herkamer experienced a very bad day, she made her request to him as soon as he walked through the door. His response was “no” to which she began to whine, and he responded that if she would “get on the floor and swing your hands and kick your feet that fit you are having will be a lot cuter.” Gertrude was angry, began to steam out of the room turned to him, and was about to say...

When suddenly Herkamer realized what he had just said. Before she could speak, Herkamer lifted his finger and put it over her lips and said, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Can you forgive me?” Gertrude's expression changed. She could see the sincerity in Herkamer's eyes. Now although she was ready to give him a piece of her mind, she could only begin to shed a tear. He continued, “I have had such a hard day, and I couldn't wait to just come home to you. Then the door was locked, I dropped my coffee cup, the cat attacked me, and now look at the hole in my pants and this scratch on my leg. I was just overacting and impulsive.” Gertrude stood stunned but managed to look down at the scratch on Herkamer's leg. “I'm sorry too”, she replied. “I should have been more sensitive about your day. It's just that sometimes I begin looking around this house and feel so badly about it, and I just want a change, but I don't want a change if it means we are going to fight.”

Herkamer hugged Gertrude, and they began to laugh. How could something so trivial as new carpet cause such a stir? They walked hand in hand toward the kitchen in silence, looked into each others eyes, and noticed the television show that was on in the kitchen area. The host of the show said, “Is your yard a mess? Are you an embarrassment to your neighbors? Do you have ugly weeds, pitiful flowers and hideous brown patches in your grass areas? Then you need a new yard!” Herkamer and Gertrude just looked at each other with an acknowledging glance, and both reached to turn the television off and had a very romantic dinner and evening together.

Stay tuned for another story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Buying Carpet Part 3

Herkamer couldn't believe the day he had just endured. The boss yelled at him; he had a flat tire on the way to work; he received a warning from an officer because of speeding from being late; a woman nearly slammed into him at a traffic signal, and now, now, after breaking his coffee cup while trying to fumble with the keys to the locked door of his house, his precious wife greets him with, “Herky, can we get new carpet?”Of all the welcome homes that Herkamer dreamed of when he was dating Gertrude, “Herky, can we get new carpet” wasn't one of them.

Herkamer thought for a moment before he answered. He remembered things like listening to his wife, hearing her heart and not just her words, consider her love language, etc, but just decided on, “Let your yes, be yes and your no be no”. So, he said bluntly, “No”, and walked toward the back of the house. “No?” questioned Gertrude frustratedly, “What do you mean, no?” she asked. Herkamer just kept walking. Gertrude was always amazed at how Herkamer could hear a package of food opening from across the room, but can't hear a word from her when she's right in the room.

Gertrude followed him, and began to make her pitch. “But Herkamer, this carpet stinks and has been in this house for over four years.” “So we'll have it cleaned” Herkamer replied in an annoyed tone, even though he was doing his best to ignore her every statement. “We have already done that two times, and every time the color doesn't change. It is still ugly beige, and I don't like it”, Gertrude argued and began to pout. As she was grabbing his arm to get her attention, Herkamer said“You know, if you will get on the floor and swing your hands and kick your feet that fit you are having will be a lot cuter.” With that, Gertrude's face turned to rage. She stared at Herkamer with steaming eyes, started to leave the room, turned to him and said...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Buying Carpet Part 2

Yesterday the convincing of a decorating television show led Gertrude to believe that she needed a change of carpet in her house. She moved and adjusted accessories around her room to try to relieve the inner urgings, but there would be no solution except to replace the carpet. Her only obstacle now was to convince Herkamer of her new found desire, and he had just arrived home from work and was about to walk through the front door...

Herkamer fumbled around with the front door for a moment, and since it was locked, his attempt to open it was rejected. His hands were filled with the newspaper, his briefcase, the coffee cup he took this morning, and the cat was twirling around his feet meowing loudly as he dug into his pocket for his keys. “Dad gummit” Herkamer said frustratedly as he dug into his pocket, “Why doesn't she open the door when I come home. I always come home at this time of day, and the dadgum door is always locked?” As he maneuvered to find his keys, the coffee cup slipped out of his hand and broke on the front door stoop. Pieces of the cup flew everywhere, and as he bent over to pick them up, the cat attacked his leg. As her sharp claws attached to his inner calf he shouted, “Ouch!” as he shooed the cat away with his leg. “Stupid cat! What the heck has got into you?”

He finally composed himself enough to retrieve his house key and began to put it in the front door when the door opened briskly. Gertrude was on the other side, and the force with which she opened the door made Herkamer nearly fall through the door. “Hello Honey!” Gertrude greeted with a smile, “How was your day?” Now for any other family this greeting might be normal, however for Herkamer, this was highly unusual and normally meant that Gertrude wanted something.”My day was terrible!” Herkamer said frustratedly and continued, “If I have one more person ask me for anything, I'm just going to bust!”

Now Gertrude had a problem. She knew when Herkamer should be asked about decorative items and when he shouldn't. This timing would be terrible, but she wanted the new carpet. What would she ever do if she didn't get new carpet? She was already having trouble breathing thinking about the fact that she would probably have to be looking at that old carpet for years, and everyone knows that there is no way to exist without replacing the carpet in one's house when it gets older. Besides, the almighty decorating show let her know that she was of little value because her carpet wasn't new and it was now out of style. Regardless of how bad Herkamer's day was, Gertrude knew that the carpet had to be discussed, and with disregard to Herkamer's earlier statement, she burst out with, “Herky, can we get new carpet?” Herkamer stared in unbelief and his mouth dropped open. He was just about to respond when...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Buying Carpet

Herkamer and Gertrude Buying Carpet

Gertrude was restless, and after three hours of spring cleaning, she decided to sit down and watch a little television. Her selection was the latest popular version of “your house isn't good enough” otherwise known as the number one decorating show, and as they began to tell her what was in and what was out, Gertrude began to believe. It was rather religious of sorts, and the doctrine of “you are not good enough, and neither is your house” prevailed.

Gertrude began to look around at her own house. This wall looked blank, and that one needed a fresh coat of paint. This accessory was outdated, and that one was ready for the garbage years ago. She moved one item, then another, and like a mother bird arranging her nest, she displayed, displaced and discarded item after item. Oh, the room looked fine, but that carpet. That carpet was outdated, stained, and ready for the trash heap. What in the world would she ever do about that nasty, old carpet? She decided there was only one solution to her restlessness, and that was to tell Herkamer they needed to replace the carpet.

The anticipation of Herkamer's arrival home from work grew moment by moment, and as the clock slowly ticked, Gertrude began to work on her speech about the carpet. The first decision would be about the approach: Should she use the pout or the tears? Should she use the force or the “I've already made the decision and you better align with it”? Maybe she could use the “Baby, you know what I'll do if you” plan of attack or the “I'll cook your favorite” idea. Maybe she should just ask, nah, that never works because he thinks everything is fine just like it is.

As she was deciding, she heard Herkamer's car pull into the driveway. She quickly primped herself, and decided to meet him at the door. Herkamer's hand grabbed the front door handle, twisted the knob, and...

Stay tuned for more of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Doritos and Chocolate Covered Almonds Part 4

The story of Herkamer eating Doritos and chocolate covered almonds while on a diet ended yesterday with his wife Gertrude asking him if he had been eating Doritos. Herkamer was just about to answer when suddenly a loud banging noise came from the kitchen area. It sounded like every pan in the kitchen fell, and Herkamer and Gertrude rushed to see the problem.

Once they arrived in the kitchen they found the old gray cat had climbed in a pot on the pot rack and pulled the entire display to the floor. Although Herkamer wasn't pleased with the cat and yelled, “You stupid beast!”, he realized that this was a grand escape to having to answer Gertrude's question.

Herkamer felt he got away with his little secret, and he continued his ranting exploit about the cat just to keep the diversion going. Gertrude lifted dishes, commented about the cat, and seemed to forget all about Herkamer's indiscretion. Gertrude rushed frantically to put away as many pans as she could and told Herkamer that she would finish the job. She told him that he could go wash up for dinner.

As soon as Herkamer left, Gertrude glanced one last time around the corner to be sure that Herkamer was indeed at the back of the house. When she was assured, she opened one of the cabinets, moved dishes out of the way, and quickly pulled out a fresh unopened box of Twinkies. She removed one from the box, rushed to stuff it down, and savored every moment of it. It was only then she remembered her promise to Herkamer that her Twinkie days were over.

Herkamer returned to the kitchen where the dining room table was now filled with the evening dinner. While at the table, Herkamer noticed a little white smudge on the side of Gertrude's mouth, and Gertrude noticed once again the spot of chocolate on Herkamer's shirt. Neither one said a word, yet both knew that everyone has a little something to hide in their closet, and no one is exempt from a little smudge or spot every now and then.

Stay tuned for another story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Doritos and Chocolate Covered Almonds Part 3

Yesterday Herkamer, after a trip to buy only milk at the grocery, purchased a bag of Doritos and a box of chocolate covered almonds, and although he was on a diet, these were his greatest temptation. The story left off with Herkamer eating only one of each of the tasty morsels.

Herkamer savored every moment of the taste of his one Dorito, and followed it with the smooth sensory sensation of the chocolate covered almond. When he finally gave the last crunch of the almond, he was completely satisfied. He had completed his resolve, and now he could drive to his home only eating one of each of his favorites. However, the bag and box seemed to begin talking again. Tiny little Doritos and chocolate covered almonds seemed to get louder and louder. “Eat us, eat us” they cried, and continued, “Don't leave us in this box, or bag, alone. We need you. We need you.”

With a longing request like that, Herkamer couldn't deny them, and began to acquiesce. With compromise after compromise Herkamer ate every one of the Doritos and each and every chocolate covered almond. He rushed through the bag, and tore through the box, and only stopped after he had wet his finger to get every crumb in site. Ahhh, such a relief! Such a satisfaction! Every one of them was eaten before he arrived home. As he pulled into his driveway, Herkamer smiled at himself in the rear view mirror, and noticed the stains on his lips from the Doritos. “Oh shoot!” he said softly and began to wipe feverishly around his lips to try to remove the stains. “That will have to do” he mumbled as he stepped out of the car proudly with the gallon of milk.

Herkamer entered the house where Gertrude came to meet him at the door. She gave him a welcome home kiss, and said, “Have you been eating Doritos?”She looked down at his shirt, and noticed a chocolate stain just below his chin and said, “and chocolate?” Herkamer's expression changed to guilt, and he said, …

Stay tuned for the end of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude Doritos and Chocolate Covered Almonds Part 2

Yesterday, Herkamer put his favorite temptations Doritos and Chocolate covered almonds into his basket on the way to get some milk. Although he was on a diet, his purpose was to show those tasty treats that he could resist them. He walked happily back to the dairy area, grabbed a gallon of milk, and as he put it into the baskets said, “There, now you have some company, and I'm still stronger than you.” Of course, all the Doritos and chocolate covered almonds did was sit there.

Herkamer returned to the isle where the Doritos and almonds were to be put back when he stated to the morsels, “You know, I am so strong over you that I am going to buy you, put you in my car, and I'm not going to eat one of you”, and with that resolve, he walked toward the checkout counter.

At the checkout counter, Herkamer put the milk, Doritos and almonds on the conveyor belt, mumbled a couple more resolves at the treats and paid the attendant. He took the bag of items to his car, and he could swear that he heard them whispering to him. “One, just eat one, Herkamer, just eat one”. Herkamer ignored them for a moment, and then they seemed to talk louder. “HERKAMER, JUST EAT ONE, HERKAMER, JUST EAT ONE”.

As Herkamer drove, he looked longingly at the bag of Doritos and the box of almonds. His saliva began to flow, and he could remember the taste of those long desired treats. Finally, he could resist no more and said, “Oh shoot, what does one hurt. I mean how much does one Dorito weigh anyhow, and for that matter, an almond weighs hardly anything?” to which he opened the bag and box.

Stay tuned for the end of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Herkamer and Gertrude

From time to time, a couple comes along who are irresistible to the public and must be followed. Herkamer and Gertrude are such a couple. Herkamer and Gertrude are a middle aged couple with witty ways, and happenstance occurrences that most individuals easily identify with in their own lives. Troubles, trials, difficulties and intense situations are present in everyday life, and having a model couple to laugh at, cry with, marvel at or emulate helps a person in his or her own circumstances. Examples are few in this day, and yet are an extremely necessary. Thus, allow this introduction to: Herkamer and Gertrude.

Herkamer was on a diet, and after four days, he already lost three pounds. His passion, however, was for Doritos and chocolate covered almonds. On his way home one day, his wife Gertrude called him and asked that he bring home some milk. Herkamer complied with the request, hung up the phone, and immediately went into panic. He knew the only store on the way home was the grocery that had Doritos and chocolate covered almonds on the row that leads to the milk. After some thought, he came up with a plan.

Herkamer decided to walk around the isle on which the Doritos and almonds were located, but after grabbing an unneeded basket when he entered the store, he couldn't resist. He decided to go talk to the bag of Doritos and speak to the box of almonds. There he stood, looking as if he was talking to himself, but was speaking to the Doritos and chocolate covered almonds. “I am stronger than you. You cannot beat me. In fact, I am so strong that I am going to put you in my basket, and then put you back.” He put the two temptations in his basket, and went to get the milk.

Stay tuned for the end of the story tomorrow. Same blog time. Same blog page. Until tomorrow...Why Say more?

Get Away

An adviser to a troubled friend said, “Dude, you have your head in the sand, and you are seeing things so up close that you can't see the forest for the trees.” With a puzzled look, the friend said, “What do you mean? My head is right here and we're in a ball stadium. There are no trees anywhere. What has that got to do with all my problems?” The adviser sat stunned for a moment, took his friend by the arm and said, “Come with me.”

His friend followed reluctantly and complained about wanting to watch the game, but he acquiesced with resistance. The friend led him to a playground that was near the field, told the friend to bend over, and pushed the friend's head into the sand. He asked, “Can you see the game now?” With anger the friend yelled, “What the heck are you doing?” Without a word the adviser pulled his friend up by the nap of the neck and shoved his face into a nearby tree and asked again, “Can you see the game now?” The friend finally said “No!” very loudly, and the adviser left him standing there.

Following behind the adviser, the friend kept yelling “What was that all about? What was that all about?” He persisted in asking until the two men had taken their seats in the stadium once again. “Can you see the game now?” asked the adviser, to which the friend said, “Oh, I get it. I can't see the game until I get away from the sand and the trees, and they quietly enjoyed the rest of the game. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Get Away

An adviser to a troubled friend said, “Dude, you have your head in the sand, and you are seeing things so up close that you can't see the forest for the trees.” With a puzzled look, the friend said, “What do you mean? My head is right here and we're in a ball stadium. There are no trees anywhere. What has that got to do with all my problems?” The adviser sat stunned for a moment, took his friend by the arm and said, “Come with me.”

His friend followed reluctantly and complained about wanting to watch the game, but he acquiesced with resistance. The friend led him to a playground that was near the field, told the friend to bend over, and pushed the friend's head into the sand. He asked, “Can you see the game now?” With anger the friend yelled, “What the heck are you doing?” Without a word the adviser pulled his friend up by the nap of the neck and shoved his face into a nearby tree and asked again, “Can you see the game now?” The friend finally said “No!” very loudly, and the adviser left him standing there.

Following behind the adviser, the friend kept yelling “What was that all about? What was that all about?” He persisted in asking until the two men had taken their seats in the stadium once again. “Can you see the game now?” asked the adviser, to which the friend said, “Oh, I get it. I can't see the game until I get away from the sand and the trees, and they quietly enjoyed the rest of the game. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Give 'em a Chance

“They're Losers, freaks, nerds, geeks, good-for-nothings, worthless, pathetic, bums, and not worth living” was overheard by a young boy from an older man who seemed to be very angry toward the people of whom he was speaking. Inquisitively the little child asked his father, “Daddy, whats a freak?” The father knew this was a teachable moment, and that much of his boy's bent toward people was going to be set by this conversation, so he thought for a moment and replied, “Son, a freak is a person who just needs to be given a chance to be loved.” With resolved expression the little boy smiled and stated, “Daddy, then I'm a freak.” To which the father replied, “So am I son. So am I.”

One of the most common denominators within people is that they desire to be loved. No matter what anyone does to a person they are trying to protect something they love. The key to relating to most people is to find something they love and help them get it legitimately. Most do not want to make this effort, and many just resort to name calling and categorizing. However, those who are willing to push past the norm and move into a relationship with people of all sorts of divisions and groups will find access through giving everyone a chance. One wonders what the world would be like if everyone consistently wondered and found what it is that each other loves.

Polyannish? Maybe, but with all the conflict, all the relational troubles, all the difficulties between people, factions and groups, maybe another approach would be worth a try. But then again, who wants to be given a chance anyway? Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Borrowed? Return It?

A neighbor walks next door and asks, “Can I borrow some sugar?”. Another neighbor does the same and asks, “Can I borrow a couple eggs?”. Just neighbors being neighbors, right? But how does one “borrow” sugar or eggs? Are they recyclable? Is there a way that the borrowed sugar and eggs can be regurgitated and returned. One is certain that the sugar and eggs cannot be returned in the same shape unless the borrower never uses them in the first place. Of course the implied dominates in this situation, and that is that if the eggs or sugar are used, they will be replaced with other sugar and eggs. However today, it seems that the latter is neglected, and people who borrow forget to return what they borrow.

Should there be a rule that says “if a person borrows something and he or she doesn't repay it, he or she has stolen it”? One supposes the importance of that rule would be determined by whether a person was borrower or borrowee. Nonetheless, maybe there should be something like that in place, however, many who have borrowed intend to repay but the supply to repay has not come in as readily as they thought. Many would love to repay those eggs and sugar, however, the cane fields and chickens do not produce like they once did.

The interesting part of the harvest of the returnable is that some years are more lean than others. There are times when the fridge isn't full and the cupboards are dry. There may be a need for borrowing, and those who purpose in heart to return that which they have borrowed will not, shall not allow bantering, escapism, legal wrangling, or disappearance to sway them from their purpose to return that which they have taken. May those who borrow from neighbors take note. May those who borrow from friends take heed, and may those who borrow from other governments resolve to repay the sugar and resupply the eggs. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Just a Simple Thank You

Thank you. Just a simple, “thank you” may be a forgotten trait, but nonetheless important. Where expectancy and demand replaces gratitude and permission, often “thank you” is out of the picture. “Bring me my cup of coffee. Now” is said to the waitress, and “what is taking you so long?” is asked angrily of the attendee at the fast food restaurant. Sometimes even the computer gets yelled at for taking such a long time...doesn't it?

Who can remember the time when parents taught their children by saying, “What do you say?” whenever someone gave them something? Has respect for another person's giving by acknowledging with a “thank you” just vanished from the culture, or is it hidden and so rare that it just doesn't appear except as a whisper anymore? Are there not a few teachers, coaches, mentors, ministers, parents, lawmakers, directors, bosses, leaders and such who might be due a simple “thank you”?

Perhaps in this day of “I need this so you should just provide it for me and do so without complaint” ideology, there would be a benefit to digression into a day when it was almost as imperative as breathing to say “thank you”, and thus will the writer. The writer wishes to thank all of you from the bottom of his heart for all the times that he should have said “thank you” and didn't. May this writing be an apology as well as a notice should he have omitted, forgotten or neglected to say “thank you” upon any occasion for which the simple “thank you” was due. Thank you, dear ones, thank you. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Revelation of the Underpinnings

The young boy overheard two older gentlemen discussing the state of the country when the one man said, “There is no need to worry, the underpinnings are properly in place, and should there be a disaster, those who are in charge will immediately be called into action.” To which the counterpart responded, “The way they did in Indonesia, or Chernobyl, or three mile?” “Oh, no” said the first man, “I'm talking about when the koolaid tray spilled at last week's soccer game.”

Isn't it amazing how topics can change from the serious to the sublime in just a moment of time? One supposes a conversation is about important developments, however, he or she only finds that importance is relative. Generally what is discovered in the importance is not only the underpinnings of the actual event, but rather that which sustains the individual. Some say that minds are like waffles which are compartmentalized and only able to jump from one category to another, and others are like spaghetti where multiple thoughts are tangled all together and shifting from one place to the other. Whichever the process, what makes an individual stand is that which is within.

One person said, “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks”, and for certain that which drives a person is often revealed by the words they use. So when the torrents rage, and the bottom line is under siege, what are underpinnings relied upon? Will they withstand the onslaught, or will the tsunami of despair reveal that there isn't much foundation at all. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

What if the World was All Red?

In a discussion about the way the world should be, a snooty young man pontificated, “Red, of course, is the best color. In fact, everything should be red. Every car, every boat, every building, every house should be and would be much better looking if they were painted red.” A friend nearby said, “How could everything be painted red, and who would want that anyway. It's the variety in life that gives it the wonder it has.” “No,” replied the boastful lad, “the problem is not within the objects, the problem lies within those who look upon it.” To which he pulled from his pocket a pair of red sunglasses with red lenses, put them over his eyes, and said, “There, that's better.”

One wise older man said, “What's really wrong with the world is the way a person sees it.” If a person wants to see bad things, he or she can find them easily. However, if a person wants to see good things, he or she can find those things as well. Oh, yes, some folks do walk around with rose colored glasses, yet it does seem that others wear glasses of gray. There is so much to be seen and experienced in life and each person has an allotted time to see and experience them. The question becomes, “How does this or that person see?”

Today may be the beginning of fresh washed eyes. Maybe the gray needs to be washed away. Maybe there has been an omission to the beauty that is everywhere. Maybe some will refocus today, take another look, reorient their vision, and see things like they never have before. Of course, there is the alternative, just paint it all red. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Good News

Tsunami here, earthquake there. Fighting over here, warring over there. Embezzlement in this place, overdose in that place. Bad news, after bad news, after bad news permeates the airwaves, and lest it be forgotten, political bantering raises its ugly head. But what if...what if, for one day, in one day, there was only good news? The news reports might read:

“People got along today, and there were no fightings about anything anywhere. Husbands and wives never said a cross word, neighbors had no disputes today, and everyone shared everything with everyone else. Siblings set aside differences, and their enjoyment of each other was exuberant with laughter. There was no greedy evil anywhere, and those who do not have never took exceeding advantage. No shootings were reported, and not a robbery or theft was conducted. There were no swear words spoken, and not a gossiping tale was told. No one lied, adultery was no where to be found, and children were actually obedient and respectful to their parents. There was not one lustful thought, no one coveted, and no one in the world was jealous or envious. Today was a remarkable day where there was not a shred of bad news to be shared anywhere at all. Everything was good news today.”

Poof! Back into the real world. Now, where is that CNN, MSNBC, Fox, etc. when one needs them? A person needs his or her fix on the bad news out there, doesn't he? Doesn't she? Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Good News

Tsunami here, earthquake there. Fighting over here, warring over there. Embezzlement in this place, overdose in that place. Bad news, after bad news, after bad news permeates the airwaves, and lest it be forgotten, political bantering raises its ugly head. But what if...what if, for one day, in one day, there was only good news? The news reports might read:

“People got along today, and there were no fightings about anything anywhere. Husbands and wives never said a cross word, neighbors had no disputes today, and everyone shared everything with everyone else. Siblings set aside differences, and their enjoyment of each other was exuberant with laughter. There was no greedy evil anywhere, and those who do not have never took exceeding advantage. No shootings were reported, and not a robbery or theft was conducted. There were no swear words spoken, and not a gossiping tale was told. No one lied, adultery was no where to be found, and children were actually obedient and respectful to their parents. There was not one lustful thought, no one coveted, and no one in the world was jealous or envious. Today was a remarkable day where there was not a shred of bad news to be shared anywhere at all. Everything was good news today.”

Poof! Back into the real world. Now, where is that CNN, MSNBC, Fox, etc. when one needs them? A person needs his or her fix on the bad news out there, doesn't he? Doesn't she? Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Day After Day After Day

A young man sat with his legs dangling off an old dock that was situate over a quiet lake. His head was down, and underneath his breath he whispered, “What's it all about anyway?” Somewhere within his teenage soul trouble had come, and the search for life and its meaning came to the forefront of his exploring little mind. It just seemed that he went from one day to the next to the next to the next without really knowing why. Time was slipping by, and now with his “long time experience with life”, he could not reason it out.

Sitting a few feet away was an older man whose gray hair showed that Father time had visited him for many years. He watched as the boy mumbled, and couldn't help but hear him the few times that the boy muttered out loud, “What am I here for? And Why do I exist anyway?” Finally, when the older man couldn't resist any more, he interjected, “The fact is, you are.” Startled just a bit, the teenager turned to older man's direction with a blank stare and heard once again, “The fact is, you are.” To which the boy replied, “Sir, what do you mean?”

The older man smiled and helpfully responded, “So many people worry so much about why they are here, what their purpose is and such as that when they should just realize “they are”, and that should be enough to continue.” The boy listened as he proceeded, “My boy, the key is to realize that you have to take day after day after day after day to just be. Some things will be good, and some things will be bad, but just be.” The boy bowed his head in thought for just a moment, looked up, and the older man was gone. As much as the boy looked he could find him no where. The puzzled boy wondered until he realized that the older man was just himself in the future pushing his soul along and encouraging him to get on with living. Sometimes, a person just needs a good talking to from the one he listens to the most. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Reflections of a Fifty Year Old Mind

When a person is thirteen, most of their life is in front of them. The choices, the decisions, the moves, or the stays, all align in front of them like packages on a conveyor belt ready to chosen or discarded. However, when a person is fifty, he or she is readily able to look back at the choices that were made. This decision here. That decision there. This person here. That person there. That event, this event, that circumstance, this situation, that choice, this choice, a little move here, a lot ta move there, and other reflections are available for review.

Seated within the emotions of a fifty year old are the realizations that over one half a person's life is expended. Anxiety fuels some, and they become stagnant. For these development turns toward greater selfishness, and the drive within is to satisfy oneself. A new look here, a new car there, an exotic vacation, or a shopping spree, all become the focus. Others understand the same time awareness, and become generative, are helpful to others, playful with grandchildren, become a mentor, and begin passing the torch. Generativity verses stagnation becomes the marching fuel, and future years are dependent upon which vein a person chooses.

Mark decisions well. For the paths one chooses will be the same path he or she walks back over in the silver years. The choices made today will be the footsteps on the pathway back to the dust from which one is formed, and those who are wise understand that the greatest footsteps will not be those which are material in substance, but will be the solid relationships with people that were forged along the way. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Diary of a Thirteen Year Old Mind

Pimples? Dates? Hair? UN-coordination? Girls? Boys? Fads? Style? What is this all about anyway? What are all the changes, and why do they come so, so...randomly? These are just a few of the questions that roam through most thirteen year old's minds. Oh, there is a tad of sophistication, and intelligence is definitely on the rise, but the questions of a thirteen year old and the insecurities that align themselves with them, rage like a tsunami rushing toward an unwitting shore within the mind.

He is too lanky. She is too large. She talks too much, and he doesn't say anything at all. She is smart, and he is a jock. His hair is ugly, and her shoes are to die for. He has language like a sailor, and she is a gossip. Why is it that they all hate her, and what makes him so popular? No one can trust him, and everybody knows what kind of reputation she has. Parents are out, and friends are in, and most parents ask, “What happened to that sweet little child that used to be my daughter/son, and what alien is living in my house now?”

Maybe the reader is traveling back in his or her mind. Remember how it was? Remember the thoughts? Remember the challenges, the trials, the insecurities? Remember that those times were so different than they are now, and if they were that tough back then, what are they like now? Remember wondering what life would be like when the old age of “twenty, thirty, forty...” would arrive? Now... help a thirteen year old make it through. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Nobody Cares

One of the most consistent individuals a person may ever know is nobody. Nobody shows up when nobody else does, and nobody usually gets the blame when nobody does something wrong. Nobody follows a person all his or her life for even as a child when things are broken, nobody did it. In fact, it isn't unusual at all for the oldest sibling to receive the incrimination for what nobody does.

Nobody cares, and nobody knows the trouble that any particular person has seen. Nobody is always around when a person is sad, and sometimes even when small victories are obtained, nobody shares in the celebration. Nobody is home when the single person returns to his or her apartment, and nobody is there even when someone becomes a widow or widower. Nobody follows a person for all his or her life, and when the darkest hours in life come, nobody is the one person that may be depended upon.

If a person listens to others, he or she may hear a person complain in agony that nobody cares, nobody reaches out, and nobody is concerned about their situation at all. Most who say such things desire that somebody would take nobody's place just to have somebody's attention, however they fail to realize that nobody is already in the somebody's place that they desire in the first position. If these poor souls would realize that nobody is there, then maybe somebody would not be in such demand, and besides, nobody cares even when somebody is not around. In other words, nobody cares, nobody knows, and nobody will be there when nobody else is available. So, why be lonely? Nobody is there. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Connect the Dots

The little girl sat down and opened her tiny new book. She had never seen quite the book like this one , for it was called a “connect the dots” book. When she opened the pages, all she could see was small little dots that had numbers by them. After short instructions from her mother, she realized that she was to find the number one dot and then draw a line to wherever number two dot was on the page. Then she was to progress through the rest of the numbers until there were no more numbers in which to draw, and once she completed the numbers, there would be a picture for her to see.

Excitedly she found the number “one” dot,which she realized was slightly larger than the rest of the dots, and began her journey. One by one she found each number and drew the line. One, two, three...okay, there is four, and over there is five, oh shoot, that was six, and it looked like a five. Now she realized she probably should have drawn this with a pencil rather than a pen, but none the less, she scribbled a line through the wrong mark,corrected it, and began again.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, uh oh...is that an eighteen or a nineteen? The page is smudged just a bit. Hold on, she looks at the drawing which seems to be coming together just a little. Oh, yeah, that dot finishes an arm or a leg or some type of appendage, but it makes no matter what it is, for she is certain that is eighteen now, and she continues.

What she is drawing makes little difference as the illustration is more of a metaphor than a story. Life is sometimes like a connect the dots page. A person goes from one dot to another without being able to see the whole picture. Only after many dots have been drawn through does one begin to figure out that there is an artist who moves a person from dot to dot to dot, and even if the person occasionally runs off to a dot that is out of order, a scribbling through can occur, and the picture can be put back on track once again. Happy drawing. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

When the Rug is Pulled Out

There he stands. He's a magician, and his hands are gripping the white tablecloth that rests underneath a table full of fine china. Most have seen this trick attempted before, and most know that if he should fail, every dish is subject to break. With bated breath the crowd watching listen as the magician begins to count, “three, two, one”...and with a sudden jerk and a quick snatch, he gloriously pulls the tablecloth out from under the china! Not a piece is broken, and not a piece is astray. The cloth has been pulled out, and everything of value stays in its place. The crowd cheers, and the magician wipes his brow for once again he has “pulled the rug out” from underneath valuables, and the valuables remain.

What is lost when the rug is pulled out from underneath a person? What remains when that unexpected event occurs, and life takes a turn in a totally different direction? What happens when events are so life altering that if a person were told in advance that it would happen that way, they still would have trouble believing it? That which remains is what makes up the core of an individual. That which does not change is that which cannot be felled. That which stays is character ingrained deep within, and no person, situation or circumstance can touch there.

Until the rug is pulled out, a person really doesn't know what will stay and what will remain, but as soon as that person, that event, that challenge or that mistreatment snatches away, that which is valuable within shall be revealed, and that which is temporary will fall. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Restitutional Fees

The red light camera systems are working wonderfully, especially if the party involved is the government. One individual working with the lighting system reported that the system located in the center of town raises between twenty and forty thousand dollars every forty-eight hours. That is quite the sum for one intersection, isn't it? Maybe they are on to something. Maybe there should be “fees”, “violation fees” for every wrong that a person does. Maybe there should be restitutional fees.

Let's see, how about if they charge ten dollars per white lie, twenty five for a fib, and fifty for a full out lie. Then another ten could be charged for taking a pen or pencil from work, twenty five for removal of coffee, paper goods or office supplies, and fifty if there was a blatant removal of an item that wasn't the property of the one who removed it. Of course, then there is the “biggies”: a hundred dollars could be charged for every lustful look, a thousand for every inappropriate touch, and if all out adultery is engaged, one hundred thousand! Now, let's look at battery to murder: an angry word would equal ten dollars, a fight would allow for a thousand, and a war, oh, it would have to be millions. The list could go on and on such as gossip, backbiting, cheating, etc., but the reader can fill in the rest.

In other words, if this is implemented properly, the entire national debt would probably be paid off in a day, maybe two, unless someone else knows something about human behavior that the writer does not know, but then again, if that is so, then the writer must be fined for writing propaganda that solicits thought beyond that which is the norm. If so, the writer is guilty, and how much is that restitutional fee? Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Accessibility

She stood by the fence with her favorite players just a few yards away. They seemed so close, and yet they were so far. The crowd alongside the fence with her had a few hecklers within it, and many of them just wanted a little acknowledgment of their presence. However, barely a glance was made, in fact, it was as if the crowd wasn't even there. Although the icons had great significance, they were not very accessible at all.

Accessibility. It's such an interesting word that has emotional attachment. Great stars, great players, great greats and the like tend to limit the amount of access they give to others. For some, there is good reason because of the society within which we live, however, there are those who seem to be somewhat, whatsoever they are makes no matter, who deem themselves just a tad better than others. Their access level is often like that of a president or king, and they barely manage or direct even a few people.

The question of the day is, “When others consider the reader, do they deem the reader accessible?” Are there barriers either either real or imagined that keep people at a distance? Do others feel comfortable just walking up and having a conversation? Would they see the reader as one in which they could trust some of their most intimate details or a few of their most sad moments?

There are probably a few leaders, bosses, directors, owners, ministers, and public figures who would do themselves well to realize once again that they put their pants on the same way as everyone else: one leg at a time. Coming down from the ivory towers and imagined royal thrones by being accessible would recognize theirs and others humanity once again rather than believing that somehow they have been elevated to the position of gods. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Displaced Fury

It's boiling beneath the surface, and the steam is building pressure. This goes wrong here, and that goes wrong there. This is in the way, and that is impeding. Above all the rest, he said this, and she said that. Suddenly, the tea kettle of the soul cannot take any more, and BOOM! There she blows! Immediately this creature that has been simmering like a quiet volcano explodes with words and actions that would embarrass even the greatest of drill sergeants. The people in the room, the furniture, the walls, and even the cat are not safe from the displaced fury of the one who has “had enough”.

Humans are marvelous, aren't they? To have things go their ways all the time, without any failing, altercation, back talk or hindrance keeps them basically quiet. There isn't a whole lot to be furious about when everything goes the way one wants it. However, that isn't possible. Something goes wrong. Some way isn't just right, or some person doesn't do it the way he or she should, and that's when the fury steps in.

The interesting part about displaced fury is that usually someone or something else gets the brunt of the anger from the aggravated individual. It's like the old “kick the cat” theory: The boss yells at a husband, who goes home and yells at his wife, who turns and yells at her child, and the child kicks the cat. Down the line it goes. From one level to the next the anger dwelling within spreads like wildfire through a sun dried forest.

So, who's been kicking the cat, punching the walls, peeling the tires, breaking the dishes, stomping the floors, yelling at the kids, screaming at the television, or acting like a raging lunatic? Maybe it's time to have a little time of moving away from displaced fury and have a little replaced rest instead. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Beyond Expectations

A woman ordered a slice of cheesecake from a New York deli. The attraction of the delicious morsel displayed in the case made her salivate like a person who had not eaten for days. When the attendant gave her the slice, it weighed over a pound! It was huge, and there was no way she could ever eat that much, well, at least at one sitting. She was delighted, and the massive slice had exceeded her expectations.

If a person demanded another to walk one mile with him, would that other walk two? If there was a lawsuit that required one pay two thousand dollars, would the one who lost pay three? If there was argument over where the line of separation is between two yards, would one neighbor cut the other's grass for free? If an office manager asked for one hour more, would a person be willing to stay for another? The writer supposes there are thousands more examples that might be used to ask whether a person is willing to go beyond the expectations of another and be willing to do something extraordinary.

In a day when people are inclined to do only what is expected and nothing more lest they be taken for granted, there is indeed a niche for those who are willing to do just a little more, a little farther, and a little beyond the anticipations of others. Those who walk in these arenas are a rare folk, and deserve to taste a little more cheesecake every now and then. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Sweep in the Corners

Yard blowers have become one of the greatest inventions to the person who has the task of raking leaves. Why, one can use a yard blower for just about any job that needs a little attention to detail. For example, who needs to sweep any more? Just take out the yard blower and away the dirt and dust fly from a porch. If there are cob-webs up on high, take the yard blower out and knock those babies out. Are leaves gathering on the roof or piling within the gutter, just take out the old handy yard blower, climb a ladder, and off they go! This gives new significance to sweeping in the corners even if they are in the mind, for even those corners are not so much trouble to handle.

But then, electricity goes out, and the old electric yard blower is powerless. Fuel prices shoot through the roof for no apparent reason other than fat cats need to get fatter, and the cost of blowing gets expensive. Then there is the aging problem. When a person is twenty five, climbing those ladders are not such a challenge. When he or she is seventy five, there may be a problem or so to consider. Is it not amazing how those pesky corners always seem to have their paths of resistance available?

Maybe, the old broom, that now sits alone and is lonely according to the commercial, might just need to be picked up once again. Maybe the calm, slow, methodical consistency of the sweep, sweep, sweep will be just the right solution for removing the dust that gathers in the corners of one's mind. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Just Leave It Alone

A man with two black eyes came to visit his friend. The friend was startled by the sight and asked him, “What happened to you? How'd you get those black eyes?” The man answered, “Well, I was sitting in a church service when the music director stepped to the podium and asked everyone to stand. As I stood, I noticed that the woman in front of me had her dress caught in the crack of her behind, so not wanting her to be embarrassed, I gently pulled it out. When I did, she turned around and slugged me and gave me a black eye.” The friend said, “So how did you get the other black eye?” The the man answered, “I put her dress back”.

Some things, and the writer does mean “some things”, are better left alone. There are events and occasions when a person wants to speak up, however, wisdom pleads, “This is a place where it would be best not to get involved.” Most know these quandary kind of events such as: when a person has toilet paper dragging from the back of their pants as they exit the bathroom; someone in an elevator breaks wind; a woman comes back from lunch with her dress inside out; there is black pepper or broccoli in between the teeth; and that inevitable hardened mucus ball hanging from someone's nose. These as well as many others are those tennis match like mental gymnastics that ask, “Should I say something or should I not? Do I get involved or do I just let them go about their business?”

One older man named Emory celebrating his ninety second year on earth was asked, “What is the secret to living so long?” His reply? “Mind your own business.” Maybe the writer and reader would do well to take heed to this older man's wisdom and employ the idea of studied non-observance when those black eye situations arise, but then again, there is always ice packs. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

The Recording

A man finished a phone call with an associate, hung up and was going about his day when suddenly his phone rang again, and it was another call from his associate. After greeting him several times, the man realized his associate had accidentally dialed him, and the man listened while the associate berated him, called him names, and spoke about what a fool he was. The trouble was that the associate did not know he had called the man before he began to make all those charges. In other words, it was if the man was listening to a live recording of what the associate really thought of the man.

What if every word, every thought, and every action in which anyone ever involved themselves was recorded? What if every curse word, every maligning thought, and every atrocious action were to be taped like a movie, and there would be the ability for the movie to be shown for all the world to see? Would there be anyone who would show up for their own “premier”? Would there be anyone who would desire that everyone everywhere see the presentation of their lives over the last, say ten years? How about five? How about one? What if it were a presentation of just the last week? Would the recording be desired to be seen then?

A movie of each person's life, a recording of every man, woman, boy or girl's manner of living, or a TiVo taping of each and every thought and action might be embarrassing to some, regretful to others, and revealing to most. Maybe a consideration of this overheard message would be beneficial, “This life will be recorded. Every idle word, thought and action can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand the words that have been written unto you?” Live “recordingly”. Until tomorrow...Why Say More?