A STUDY IN HAIKU

I am exhausted.  I feel as if I have run the Boston Marathon, swam the English Channel and binged all 635 episodes of Gunsmoke all at one time.  I am pooped!  Why, Gladys are you so tired, you ask?  Okay, maybe you really don’t care, or maybe you are just kind of curious, but I am going to tell you why, whether you are or not.  I just spent the last four days sitting.  I spent the last four days sitting listening to poetry, prose and drama.  Why?  Why did I do this?  Because, my dears, just like Mt. Everest, it was there.

Once a year in my little town they have a festival of sorts for the arts.  Where poets and novelist, artist and dramatist, producers and directors all meet and share their works.  It is a meeting of the cerebral realm and honestly my cerebellum has been on pause for quite a while.
 

It was very enjoyable; listening as a group as others read their works, share their art and show their films.  Except there were people.  You see as a rule, I don’t people. 

I used to think I was an extrovert, then I realized that I probably wasn’t.  You see an extrovert thrives on people.  They draw their energy from being in crowds, feeding like Lestat only instead of blood they suck the energy from your soul.  An introvert on the other hand does not draw energy from the crowd, but, instead is drained from having to be around others. They become the suck-ee.  

 I did my MyersBriggs.  I am INFJ or XYZW or something.  Basically, it told me I am an Introvert, Intuitive, Feeling and Judging.  Yep, that pretty much describes me.  I have always felt too much.  So many feelings.  I know that your personality type changes over time.  Like I said before, I used to think I was an extrovert, but I wasn’t.  I digress.  Back to the festival of the artist.

We sat and listened as poets poured out their hearts and their feelings.  They rhymed and rhythmed all day.  Some were good, some bad, some just so-so.  We listened to the staccato of the rain beating a rhythm on the roof and the sing-song soliloquy of the poems.  It was a pleasant way to spend a couple of days.  

 I tell you all of this to say that I am in awe of these talented sonneteers.  I do not have the knack or the talent for poetry.  I don’t know if a Haiku is something you order at Benihana or a type of poem.  If you ask me what a pastoral is I would guess it’s something a preacher is responsible for.  A sonnet is a sun hat?  See I just don’t know.  I mean what makes it a poem and not just a story?  Does it have to rhyme? 

As I sat and listened to an older gent go on about what a Cowboy Don’t Do, I noticed the octogenarian woman’s t-shirt in front of me.  It said something on the back but she had another shirt on over it.  I looked at my cousin, nudged her and pointed.  She squinted and shrugged.  I leaned over and whispered “does that say Fuck It Up”?  

She squinted again and returned “No I think it says Suck it Up.” 

“Surely not, but, maybe that’s why she covered it up” I retorted.

“Well maybe she doesn’t know it says it” my cousin replied. 

Poets rose and fell.  Sonnets were read and ballads sung, yet I heard none of these.  I was obsessed with what the octogenarian’s shirt said. I squinted and squirmed.  I fidgeted and fussed like a two-year old in church giggling at the thought of an old woman’s shirt.  The day began to fade and the lights sparkled in the rain as the crowd dispersed.  I ran to catch up with the old woman’s shirt. 

“Excuse me, Excuse me!” I cried.

The woman stopped and bent her head toward me “yes dear” she croaked.

“Um, I know this is odd but, did you know there is something written on the back of your undershirt?” I stammered.

She handed me her umbrella and began unbuttoning her top shirt.

“NO! No, you don’t need to undress” trying to stop her “I just want to know what is on the back of your undershirt.”

She continued unbuttoning her shirt until a logo appeared on her left breast. “See this” she said.  “This here is my Alma Mater.”

I nodded a soggy yes as the rain began to pour “Ok.  But what does it say on the back of your shirt?”

“I’m getting there.  Don’t get your knickers in a knot.  I was in my Alma Mater’s drill team.  You know them girls that dance on the football field and at the basketball games.  We did little dances in short skirts and boots with tassels on em.”  She kept pointing at the emblem on her chest.

“OK, but the back…” I was cut short.

“I told you to keep your bloomers tight.  I’m getting there.”  She turned around and pulled her overshirt up to expose the writing on the back.”

There in big bold cursive letters was KICK IT UP!

I was a little disappointed but mystery solved.  It would have been a much better story had it said what I thought it said. I helped her redress handed her back her umbrella and thanked her profusely.  She smiled at me and said “Now you gotta go write a poem about it.”

I tried to explain that a poet I am not.  I don’t have a clue.  She just smiled and said “Well, figure it out and then go and Kick It Up.”

So here is my attempt at poetry.

 A Haiku by Gladys

 The Woman

I met a woman

Who said I should kick it up

Only I fucked it up.

JUST THE FACTS IS BACK - THE FACTS FOR THE WEEK ENDING 8/28/2018

Once upon a time I used to do this thing called Just The Facts.  I lived in a small town up in Montana and I loved reading the Police Report.  Now with all the information on the whirled wide webs you can get Police Reports from all over the country.  So how happy was I when the other morning while perusing the internets I found these little gems.  So how this works, is I read the report then I write down the first thought that comes to my mind.  It is scary, I know.  I mean you never know what rabbit hole my pea brain will hop down.  So here we go.  I am a little rusty but we will do this together.

There are a million stories in the city.

Dum-dah-dum…dum-dah-de-dum-de-dum.

"The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.")

WEDNESDAY, AUG. 22

• THEFT – 500 block of N.E. 7th Street, 5:20 a.m. Theft of an antique gas pump from a yard was reported.

Was there antique gas in the pump?  Did it make the car miss and sputter like when you get bad gas at the station?

• THEFT – 1300 block of East Hubbard Street, 9:20 a.m. A drive shaft was stolen from a vehicle at an auto dealership.

Hey y’all, you know what would be fun?   Let’s go grab a drive shaft from the Ford dealer.  I mean I could use a new one and you know how simple it is to just sneak in there and grab one.

• CRIMINAL MISCHIEF – 300 block of N.W. 4th Avenue, 11:36 a.m. A woman filed a complaint about moving boxes being left in front of her residence after a Facebook dispute.

Were they magic boxes?  Was she sure there wasn’t something alive in those boxes making them move?  And you know the first thing I do when I’m mad at someone on Facebook is scream right on over to their house and leave magic boxes outside.

• FOUND PROPERTY – 3000 block of N.E. 2nd Street, 7:06 p.m. A man found a phone and turned it over to police.

Well, that was nice of him. 

• DOMESTIC DISTURBANCE – 300 block of S.E. 25th Avenue, 8:44 p.m. A verbal argument took place outside a restaurant.

I told you those were MY fries.  DON’T TOUCH MY FRIES.   Have you seen my phone?

• INFORMATION – 1100 block of S.E. 18th Street, 10:40 p.m. A stepfather reported a child being unruly. The child reported the presence of drugs in the home.

Quid Pro -uhoh!

THURSDAY, AUG. 23

• FOUND PROPERTY – 200 block of South Oak Avenue, 4:08 a.m. Glasses found were turned into the police department.

Now see I totally get this.  I am forever losing my glasses.  I swear I have 40 pairs of glasses and I can’t find any of them.  I didn’t think to look on Oak Avenue

• FRAUD – 1300 block of N.W. 1st Avenue, 9:17 a.m. A family member was accused of fraudulently transferring property into their name.

Hey Kahuna, I see your sisters are at it again. 

• THEFT – 2300 block of East Hubbard Street, 12:03 p.m. Someone used identification to fraudulently purchase three phones on a phone account.

It’s because they lost their phone up there on N.E. 2^nd

• ARREST – Harvey Road, 3:22 p.m. Multiple calls were made regarding a man walking nude near the airport.  Seymore Hiney (made up name) was found and arrested on a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct-indecent exposure.

Thankfully I just lose my phone and glasses.  This poor guy lost his clothes

• ANIMAL BITE – 3000 block of N.E. 2nd Street, 6:11 p.m. A man asked to surrender their kitten for the safety of his family.

Wait!  What?  A kitten?  A kitten was a threat to his family’s safety?  What kind of kitten?  A mountain lion? So ferocious!  Run away!  Run away!

• INFORMATION – 2000 block of S.E. 10th Street, 6:45 p.m. A bank in New York complained about a possible threat it received.

Uh?  I’m confused the bank was threatened or the 2000 block of 10^th street?

FRIDAY, AUG. 24

• COUNTERFEIT CURRENCY – 1500 block of U.S. Highway, 11:38 a.m. A store reported counterfeit money being passed.

Maybe they mistook their Monopoly Money for Real Money

• WELFARE CHECK – 600 block of South Oak Avenue, 12:34 p.m. Young children were found in the middle of the street unsupervised.

When I was a kid this was called playing.  We all did it.  We would play in the street until a car came and then the look out would yell CAR and we would go to the side of the street until it passed.  Heck our parents TOLD us to go play in the street.

SATURDAY, AUG. 25

• ASSAULT – 2200 block of N.E. 4th Street, 8:18 p.m. A neighbor allegedly assaulted another neighbor.

Get off my LAWN!

SUNDAY, AUG. 26

• PORNOGRAPHY – 3800 block of Ram Boulevard, 11:52 a.m. A report was made and investigation initiated into a student using their school-issued laptop Friday to access an Internet chat site and showing to students men performing lewd sex acts. The student also reportedly turned the laptop's camera so that the men could see other students in the classroom.

Well I’ve never heard of them teaching Sex-Ed this way.

MONDAY, AUG. 27

• ASSAULT – 600 block of S.W. 13th Street, 8:36 a.m. A man stated his wife is off her medication and becomes aggressive at times.

I am not crazy, my mother had me tested.

TUESDAY, AUG. 28

• THEFT – 2300 block of South Oak Avenue, 10:29 p.m. A woman said her estranged husband stole her cell phone.

So she went to the 600 block of 13^th street.  See she wasn’t off her meds

All right folks, as the officers who are the keepers of the Duck of Justice, The Bangor Maine Police Department, say keep your hands to yourselfs, leave other peoples stuff alone and be kind to each other. 

TROOPER BOB AND THE FLAPPER

You know how one project snowballs into another?  You know you start out by cleaning up a spot on the floor and the next thing you know you are completely reflooring the whole house?  No?  It’s just me?  Oh, come on now.  I know I can’t be the only one.  I know it happened to Nurse Meme and Trooper Bob and it just happened to Gladys and Kahuna. 

Gladys stood in the bathroom towel draped hair dripping wet.  She stood with her blow dryer in hand.  She looked for a plug outlet but couldn’t find one.  They hadn’t lived in the little cottage long, just a couple of days.  It was cozy and snug but had been built in a day and time where plug outlets were few and far between.  She sighed and went in search of a place in which she could activate the dryer and keep her hair from frizzing.  Not just frizzing, but kinking up like fine grade steel wool.   She searched high and low for an open outlet. 

Kahuna was stretched out in his Lazy-boy, being anything but lazy.  The keys on his computer clicked happily along, without turning “what are you looking for” he queried. 

“Oh, you know, an open plug.  One that doesn’t have two dozen things plugged into it” she replied while crawling on her hands and knees under the dining table.

“Well, I guess I could put one in the bathroom, on the wall with the light switch” he suggested.

“Can you?  Would you?”

And that is how it all began.  With the want of one outlet. 

That too is how it started years ago with Nurse Meme and Trooper Bob.  It started with a toilet flapper that wouldn’t seal.  You all know the irritation not to mention astronomical water bills that goes with a bad flapper.  Not the roaring 20s, bob haircut and fringe dress, bad flapper.  Have I ever told y’all my grandmother was one of those?  A flapper, not the one that goes in the toilet tank but she may have drank gin from a bathtub, but we will never know.  I digress.

Nurse Meme called Bob in from the shop where he was hiding, smoking cigars.  He was retired.  He could do that, or so he thought. 

The little intercom which stretched the 50 yards from the house to the shop crackled and squawked.  “Bobkmlknkj;  Hurry! Mmmmmph” TB carefully snuffed out his cigar so he could come back to it later.  It sounded like there was some sort of an emergency, but as he had learned in his many years as a state trooper, your emergency wasn’t necessarily my emergency.  He kicked off the grass from his boots and entered the kitchen.  He looked in all the usual places for Meme.  He looked in the kitchen, in the laundry, in the study and in every single one of the four bedrooms.  He didn’t call out for her because he knew she would be calling him, shortly.

 “GAWDDAMNIT BOB!  Where the hell are you?” inquired a pissed off Meme as she stomped out of the guest bathroom.

 “Don’t get your panties in a wad.  I’m right here.  What’s your problem?”

“You are my gawddamn problem, but right now it’s this sonofabeech toilet” she answered pointing at the toilet.

“Looks alright to me” he responded as he eased over to the commode and opened the lid.  “Sounds like the flapper is stuck.  Didja try jiggling the handle?”

“Yes, I jiggled the damn handle.  I ain’t an idiot.  It needs a new flapper” she insisted. 

TB opened the tank lid and jiggled the flapper, the water stopped running “there ya go.  I fixed it.”

Meme flushed the toilet and the flapper stuck open again “no you didn’t.  Now go get a new flapper and don’t do any of that duct tape and balin wire fixin.  I want it done right.”

TB replaced the lid and rolled his eyes “it’s fine.  Just put a sticky note on the wall tellin everybody to jiggle the handle.”

“You can go to hell too.  I ain’t tellin nobody to jiggle no damn handle.  Get the parts and fix it” she admonished and turned and walked out adding “and do it now.  I am trying to clean this damn house.”

Trooper Bob sighed and reluctantly headed to the hardware store mumbling the whole way “fixit right, I’ll fix it alright.  Aint nothing you can’t fix with a little JB Weld, Duct tape or balin wire or all three.  Why I glued a guy’s toe back on with JB Weld and duct tape.  Tellin me to fix it right.”  He continued his lament as he wandered through the aisles of P-traps and plumbing supplies.  He passed a couple of other men doing the same.  Talking to the spouse they left at home on a mission to complete their honey-do list.  He looked at all the different styles, settled on the cheapest fix and headed back home.

Not really wanting to fix the flapper on the toilet, he procrastinated.  He went back to the shop and re-lit his cigar, turned on Paul Harvey and hid a little while longer.  He was kicked back in his chair, almost asleep.

 “GAWDDAMNIT!  I asked you to fix the toilet!  What do you think you are doing out here smoking ceegars and sleeping?” 

“I think I’m smoking my ceegar and takin a nap is what I think I’m doin” he rebutted.

“Get in there and fix the damn toilet.  I need to finish cleaning” Meme declared and stormed out.

“That damn woman has one mood, pissed off” Trooper Bob mumbled.  He gathered his tools and the new flapper and drug into the house and set about replacing the flapper.  He was just about finished when he torqued a bit too hard on the nut and the whole tank shattered.  “Gawddamnitsonofabeechmotherforkerinrashnashin, Meme!!!! I NEED TOWELS!”  He yelled as her emergency had become his emergency.

Meme came running and at seeing the mess began pulling towels from the linen closet and throwing them his way.  “I’ll get the mop” she yelled as she ran down the hall

“I NEED A WRANCH!” as he furiously tried to turn off the corroded valve.  Water pouring and sloshing all along the wall and floor. 

Meme returned with a fresh batch of towels and a mop “you need to turn off the valve.  That water is going all over the place.”

“No shit Sherlock!  If I could turn it off I would.  I need a wranch” he shouted. 

Meme ran to the junk drawer extracted a pair of channel locks and ran back “will these do?”

“I reckon they’s gonna have to.  Get the hell out of my way” he barked as he lay down in the water and manhandled the valve which dissolved with the pressure of the channel locks.  “Well shit fire and save the damn matches, go turn off the valve to the house.”

Meme started to run then stopped.  “I don’t know where the valve is.”

Trooper Bob, now saturated and mad as a wet hen stomped down the hallway sloshing leaving a trail of toilet water in his wake. 

“You’re getting the carpet all wet” Meme yelled after him.

“Yeah well, too damn bad” and he stomped out the front door.

Once the water had been turned off and the mess had been cleaned up the two loaded up in the truck and drove to the hardware store to pick out a new toilet. 

“Oh, look at this one” she enthused “it’s tall and white.  I like this one.  It says it saves water too!  But since we got that old toilet out, we need to redo the floor.  Let’s go look at the flooring.  I always hated that linoleum.   I think we need to lay tile in that bathroom.  And look at these shower doors.  They are much prettier than the ones we have.  The old ones are so dingy looking”

“They aren’t dingy, they are frosted and the floor is fine.  Just needs to dry out a little” Bob responded, seeing more and more work piling up as they made their way through the store. 

“And that wall paper!  Atrocious.  I mean who wants wallpaper of old timey toilets all over their bathroom walls” she queried. 

“Evidently, you since you was the one put it there in the first place” he mumbled seeing yet another project.

“No, I didn’t.  It was there when we bought the house” she mumbled back as she picked out paint and paper, flooring and shower doors, new light fixtures, mirrors, cabinets with marble tops, new faucets and shower heads, towel racks and toilet paper dispensers and of course the new toilet.

That is how the repair of a three dollar toilet flapper ended up into a complete bathroom remodel. 

All Gladys wanted was an outlet to plug her blow dryer into.  That’s how her bathroom ended up with new drywall, paint, mirror cabinet, lights, molding and floor.  All she wanted was an outlet.

KICKED OUT OF THE SEARS AND ROEBUCK'S

It is sad, so many of the icons from my youth are gone.  They are no more.  In their place stand empty buildings or empty lots.  I remember one of my favorite past times as a kid was when my mom would take us downtown.  We would wander through the big old department stores.  In my hometown it was Thornton’s, Grissom’s and Minter’s and of course Montgomery Ward and Sears and Roebuck’s. 

They had an elevator with an operator who would announce the floors.  They had perfume counters and glove counters they even had a special section with a clerk just for hats.  We didn’t have a lot of money but sometime when my mother needed something special we got to visit the downtown department stores.  Today I read where Sears is closing more stores.  J.C. Penny had already announced more closings.  I guess Amazon and Walmart have taken most of their business away.  Heck whatever you need you can get online.  But you can’t get a ride up the escalator to the Housewares Department or visit with Faye, the elevator operator, she announced you have reached Third Floor, Ladies foundations, lingerie and perfumes.  

And another thing, did you ever wonder what happened to Roebuck?  Did old Richard Warren Sears kick him out of the company?  Is he buried under the loading dock of a Sears in Spring Valley, Minnesota?   Or was he just the victim of a down turn in the economy which squeezed him out into bankruptcy.  Was he, like Trooper Bob, kicked out of the Sears and Roebuck’s? 

Oh, and I find it odd that a store that started out as a catalogue store is going out of business because it can’t compete with on-line catalogue stores. 

I digress once again.  Here is one of my favorite department store stories, told to me by a co-worker of mine.  I have never entered a Sears and Roebuck’s that I didn’t think of this story.

Martin and his wife, Letty, held the hand of their sweet little boy, Alfonso as they walked through the aisles of the brand-new Sears and Roebuck’s downtown store.  The floors were polished terrazzo, the walls bright tile.  A large grinding escalator stood in the middle of the store lifting patrons from one floor to the next.

 

Alfonso squealed with delight.  He burst loose from his parents and ran to the toy department.  Red Ryder B.B. guns, little green army men, Lincoln logs and stuffed Teddy bears filled the racks and invited the tot to play.  Martin caught up with his five-year-old son, promising they would revisit the toys once Mommy and Daddy had gone to housewares.  A little disappointed he reluctantly let his dad lead him away from his panacea.  He waved goodbye to the giant Howdy Doodie puppet suspended above the toys

.

Up the escalator they floated, Alfonso jumping up and down watching over the side as the people down below got smaller and smaller.  They exited to the third floor where he exited hoping to find new wonders.  He lagged behind his mom and dad when he realized all that was here was furniture and refrigerators. 

Letty ran to the large pink Cold Spot chest freezer.  She fussed over it, expounding on the color and how it would match her all pink kitchen.  Martin appreciated it ample size, commenting that the thing he looked for in a freezer was how many bodies it would hold.  Letty slapped his arm and told the horrified salesman that he was just joshing, but behind her back Martin mouthed no I’m not. 

Not wanting to offend the ominous looking man in the black suit and his wife, the salesman expounded on the virtues of the new frostless freezer.  He told of all the time Letty would save on all that tedious defrosting.  Then he asked if the couple had any children.  That is the exact moment Martin and Letty realized little Alfonzo was missing. 

Panic rose in Letty’s throat and Martin began scanning the area for his little dark headed boy.  The rushed from aisle to aisle.  Sales Clerks from all over the store rushed to aid in the search of the tike.  Thelma from lingerie blocked the entrance and exit off the escalator on the second floor.  Marge in accessories took time off from selling Mrs. Thibodeaux the most stylish hat she had ever seen to look under racks and in dressing rooms for the young man.  The store was in an upheaval.

Martin rounded the corner to find a crowd gathered around a display, a bathroom display.  The crowd was in various stages of disgust, laughter and amazement.  He pushed his way to the front of the crowd to find little Alfonzo happily sitting on the display toilet with his pants around his ankles and a picture book in his hands.  Letty showed up about then and let out a scream, “Oh my baby boy!  What are you doin?” 

“Why momma, I’m going number two.  You told me it weren’t good to hold it in.  It made me have a bad attitude” the little innocent replied.

That’s the day that Martin, Letty and Alfonzo were kicked out of the Sears and Roebuck’s.  And Letty never did get her big pink frostless Cold Spot Freezer.