La Vida

We're talking November of 2009 here. I mean, it's getting late in many ways. Gotta tell you I signed up for S.S. last month, although I'm still looking for a job (they let you do that, God bless 'em). It's also late in the current year. Two weeks ago Mama and I went over to Atlanta (rain going and sun coming back) to celebrate Halloween with all kinds of family---it gets complicated. I'll just say that it doesn't get any better than that. It was the kids mainly.

See, mine are grown, and their's are working on it, but they all live in a transition type of neighborhood, and have all kinds of friends. The main thing as far as Halloween is concerned is that there are large numbers of them. My first ex-wife who was hosting the party apologized for the poor turnout on account of the rain. What! There must have been a hundred kids at the door. I, to whom Halloween is the most important holiday of the year, have been used to operating at the spiritual poverty level of a dozen or so. I would ransom my soul for such a neighborhood.

The little ones get to you. "Trick or treat!" "Thank you." Those are good first words to learn in America. The parents come with them to be sure they get it right, you can tell it's important. I had my scary accent all ready, but I just couldn't use it most of the time. Sometimes I feel more Christmasy at Halloween than at Christmas. Well, shoot , at Christmas you give to friends and family. On All Hallows Eve you give to everybody.

Anyway, everybody ate mucho gusto, thanks for the grits and ribs Sunday morning. That just polished off a superb weekend. It only remains to thank my sister for directing us to an unfamiliar route home through sunlight, autumn leaves, and uncertainty. We made it.

Feliz dia de los muertos,
Daddy

Loose Ends

Les and I were friends more than forty years ago, and though we hadn't kept up regular contact I always treasured the occasions we were able to get together. We shared a love of puns, that most flagrantly cerebral form of humor. On one memorable occasion we, along with five or six like-psyched friends, left ourselves exilerhausterated from a rapid-fire pun exchange that ricocheted at least a dozen times. There is no way I'll ever remember the details (who was keeping notes?), but it had something to do with flying and ended with a supplication: "Our feather..". Yeah, Okay, you had to be there, and I was. And Les had the last word.

That wasn't unusual. He had the last word on quite a number of topics. This was because he was smart, damn smart, and he knew it. That never bothered me, honestly. I'm fairly smart myself, and I also have a cast iron ego. So, I never have felt intimidated by someone who was smarter than me. Anyway, it never stopped me from arguing with him, and I think he appreciated that. Hell, sometimes I was right.

Well. here's what I mean about loose ends. Living gets in the way of life. What really happens is that you spend all your time dealing with what it takes to survive, and put off doing what your heart and soul requires. Now that he's gone, I can think of a dozen things I'd like to say to him, and I'll add to that as long as I live. Too bad. You see, as long as you live, the people who used to be a part of your life continue to call upon you from time to time, but you only get to reply to yourself, ... unless you believe in ghosts, which I don't. I believe in memories, and that's another name for loose ends.

John Leslie Duncan
08/05/1939-06/01/2009

Godbless,
Daddy

Dead End Street

I live in a house on a corner lot on two dead end streets in the middle of a forest. I'm surrounded by towering pines and a two story tall mid-canopy of mature dogwood trees. Ancient azaleas run wild around back, and I've identified upwards of sixty bird species, either resident or just passing through. Oh, don't get the idea I occupy a hermitage; this is a neighborhood. Every 150 feet or so along these just-wide-enough streets you'll find one of the four or five basic house plan houses that were planted here a half century ago, back before the trees got so big. Like the trees they too have grown, most of them, burgeoning toward the property line. I like that word, burgeoning, it has a calm but relentless value. Right now I'm looking out a full-length glass storm door at a Spring downpour that is Lara's Theme-ing our driveway with dogwood petals.

The people, I'd say half of them, have been here longer than more than the half of the trees which they planted. They also have burgeoned, sending their offshoots across town, state, country, ... even the world. And yet they remain, familiar as the trees, knowing each other and waving as they pass. The rest have settled in over the years, seamlessly blending their histories, as time passes. That is what time does here, it just passes, and change isn't usually dramatic. In fact you tend to notice it more as "did" than "does".

The secret to it all, you know, is these dead end streets. No Through Traffic. Although I'm less than a hundred yards from a major highway, it has limited access, and there are woods and a fence, which also extend across the entire north side of our neighborhood capping five dead end streets and sealing us off from the research park in that direction. Frankly, any would-be sneaky adventurer would have a mile and a quarter gauntlet of nosy neighbors to run before they even got to a major street. We don't see much action here, actually.

There are no "drive-bys" on a dead end street. There are no strangers on a dead end street. You can live on a dead end street.

Regards,
Daddy

Some Sayings

OK, here are a few cynical sayings; not too many, I hope.

Sayings
by Daddy Underwig

1. If you would elect a government that will protect you, then you damn well better be able to tell the dogs from the wolves. Be advised: Wolves always claim they're dogs.

2. Sheep have always had the vote, and they have always voted for whom they believe to be the dog.

3. I believe the attraction of an unrepentant liar is that he is as close to an honest man as we are likely to get.

4. Those who want a level playing field have been used to forming ranks at the bottom of the hill.

5. And by the way:
a) Those at the bottom of the hill have only one way to go.
b) Those at the top of the hill are keenly aware of this.
c) This is why hills are popular.

That is enough for now. I'm going to listen to some vintage Simon and Garfunkel and remember how sensitive and caring we were and how that was going to change the world.

Regardfully.
Daddy

Oops

Well, here we are at the rear end of Feb-you-wary, ought-niner, and all the cool corps and stores and banks are in the Crapper. They are also probably secretly mortified about all those supremely confident TV adds: bullpucky revealed! At least it would be nice to think that those responsible for the screwup could feel humility. Yeah, right, that's probably stupid of me. I've seen too many feel-good movies, whatcha think? Apparently nothing gets our attention like a good old cold bucket of water. However, will someone tell me why this happened when it is well known that it has happened many times before? It just seems that somebody should have seen it coming.
Oh.
I see.
So, you're saying that quite a few people saw it coming and said so, but nobody paid any attention?
Right.

Sorry.

Apologetically,
Daddy