Tuesday, November 21, 2017

From Psyce With Love

The old man was always in a fever dream these days. Coming in and out and catching snatches of conversation. He was an agent or had been an agent. He caught that. He never forgot her coming out of the ocean that day. Completely perfect womanhood.  Was that his wife?  No, not her. But, she stayed with him for a little while. The old man was 80 or was it 90 years old? What was the difference these days. He slept and dreamed a dream of violence and hangovers and friend’s long gone or were they? They seemed more real than he did in a way. He was drifting off. Not becoming nothing or into nothing but just becoming just being.

The young nurse looked at the orderly and flashed a disgusted look at the old man on the bed. Well, that’s your job ya know. His ass stinks and that’s below my paygrade. She was a little shocked when the supervisor walked in. But, the older nurse just motioned both of them out of the room.

Are you Russian? She was wasn’t she? Did he love her? No, not love. But, he knew her. She was one of the many that he knew. Drifting now….Steel teeth? Damn, that was a ride. Who are you? I just can’t get it….

The doctor looked at the old man. Who was paying his bills? Nobody got doctors and nurses and round the clock care like this. Not in this facility. Private room itself must have cost a year of the doctor’s pay and the doctor was very well paid indeed.

The older nurse looked at the old man and remembered the stories. She was one of the few who actually knew a little of the old man’s background. She had  been young then but still a grown woman. He was quite the catch back in the day. The young nurse who looked so disgusted earlier at his shitty ass would have drooled all over him back then. Idiot.

The old man drifted…Coming awake now and feeling old wounds and stiff joints. He had made it though hadn’t  he? Of course he had “lived” and was now in purgatory. A soft chuckle followed by a coughing spasm shook his narrow chest. The hands that had crushed noses and fired the finest weapons and caressed  the most beautiful of women shook now in a palsy.

Almost over said the doctor. Another day maybe not even through the night.  You knew him then? He asked the older nurse. She of the high cheekbones and ample bossom and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. The doctor noticed how beautiful she was for the first time. Like a work of art. Weathered and chipped but still under all the years and wear.  Beautiful.

The old man saw a light. So bright and yet so easy to look at. So inviting. The old man was no longer an old man. He was fully himself. He walked up to the bar. What a place. So bright and the bartender was wearing a clean immaculate white jacket. What will it be sir?

The clock on the wall read 4:44 AM.  444 was the number of angels his mother used to say. Hello Love? He looks and there she is. His wife? Tracey? My God, she’s perfect. Sir? The bartender says what can I get you and your lady?

Martini. Medium dry. I’ll have mine shaken, not stirred


He’s gone…He’s finally gone the nurse thinks. That can’t be right. But, right before, just a moment before he had such an expression of joy and wonder. Call it says the doctor..Time of death 4:44 AM.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Why I am not a Blue Blood Republican

I am southern. It’s in my blood which runs hot when I get excited and in my mouth when I’m not thinking and let my accent go completely cornpone. I’m southern from the way I feel the Alabama humidity in the summer to the way I drink sweet tea and remember my aunt’s cornbread from my youth. I’m Christian the same way I’m southern. My people are Irish descent and I remember my aunt’s on my mother’s side with all that red hair and my Great Grandma Couey and the stories of her and her little tambourine on the streets of New Orleans preaching to the people in the bars about the love of Jesus. She wore her hair in a bun and once when I was a child I saw her let it down and all this white hair hung to the floor and dragged on the ground.  My maternal Granddaddy was Dutch and Cherokee and my Paternal grandparents were Irish descent. Both sides are southern. They come from Blount County in Snead, Alabama and Etowah County in Gadsden and Altoona, Alabama. My Granddaddy came from Huntsville, Alabama. He worked the coal mines in Blount and Etowah County and that’s where he got “Black Lung.”  My mother tells the story of my grandparents getting two eggs from a doctor’s farm during the depression. They went back home and locked the door so they could eat  the eggs without anybody knocking then in the head for them. My grandmother would put water in the bottom of the ketchup bottle instead of throwing away the empty just to make it go farther. Even years later when the depression was long over and she had plenty of ketchup she kept that habit.

Understand that I have Zero in common with Donald Trump. He wouldn’t have given my family the time of day unless the bastard had a property he could foreclose on them for. But, they couldn’t have afforded a single room he owned so that’s a moot point. I heard a dear friend who I will always love say that Donald Trump was a “good man.” That hurt my heart. She comes from the same background I do. But, somehow she has fallen for the might makes right myth of the conservative tea party. I am sure that if you put Donald Trump or Bill Clinton or poor oppressed (sarcasm here) Barrack Obama in my  granddaddy’s shoes they wouldn’t have lasted a day. So, no they are not “strong men” in my opinion.

Abortion? I hate abortion. But, I also hate seeing children born into poverty and the conservatives then calling them thugs and drains on society. Make up your damn mind. Either you think all life is sacred and you feel people should have access to food, clothing, clean water and shelter or you don’t. What the conservatives are is pro birth. Pro life? Not so much.

Anyway, these are some of the thoughts I’ve had today and I just wanted to get them out there. I have been so disappointed at my conservative friends. Back when Obama was president they vilified, they cussed, they brought judgement on that Muslim loving, Kenyan born, American Hating traitor. They judged every time he or Michelle Obama went out in public. Michelle didn’t dress right or act right. Then along came Donny Trump. His wife posed as a naked model but she is still "all class" to hear the frozen few of the republican tea party church talk. Michelle Obama showed her shoulders and you would have thought the world was ending.

First Trump calls POW’s losers and he likes people that don’t get caught. Then he insults a former POW who has done more for his nation than Creep Trump will ever do. Then he takes a Purple Heart and smirks that ugly smirk of his and puts it in his pocket. Now, the folks who love the country and the military are really going to let him have it. I waited, I waited. I waited and waited. CRICKETS! Just crickets.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like Hillary and there is much about the democrats and especially the safe spaces and the identity politics that I deplore. But, right now Hillary isn’t in power and Democrats are not in the presidency. So, right now I’m trying to speak truth to power. Sounds more noble than it is. I mainly despise Donald Trump and the hypocrites that speak up when it’s Obama but don’t speak up when it’s Trump. That’s the other thing. The democrats used to say to the republicans that they should respect the president. Now the shoe is on the other food and the republicans are saying it to the democrats. Both are hypocrites. But, right now the most powerful man in the world has a personality disorder and maybe even early stage dementia. I don’t know I’m just going by some stuff I’ve seen during my working career as a social worker. I’m not a psychologist and even if I were it wouldn’t be professional to make a diagnosis from a TV clip or soundbite. But, anyway that’s my 2 cents.