Month: December 2005

Long December

Writer guy

December 9, 1980. St. Louis, Missouri. A bus of grammar school students. Destination: a private school, denomination undisclosed.

Most rides, the kids talk soccer, basketball, or baseball; the current sporting season decides the conversation. Today it’s current events. Last night someone died. A big someone, who mattered with a Capital M.

The kids know his songs, but not his face. They know his melodies, but not his music. They don’t understand what that dead man meant to their parents, but they do know he was important. Others say, they will never understand this connection, because his was the voice of another generation.

Critics said his music would never last. A flash in the pan, they said. Forty years later, John Lennon’s pan is still on fire. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Dog walker, yeah

Writer guy

House sitting is a tricky task. On one hand, it’s flattering when someone grants unrestricted access to their belongings for an extended period. Watching someone else’s stuff is also a low effort activity; the biggest problem being an abrupt change in a routine. Soon enough, though, one gets into the temporary digs.

A wicked devil lies in the fine print, however. In this case, the two Satan’s in waiting: aged foxhounds with thimble sized bladders and a bark that wake the dead. Like for instance, myself at four in the morning.

After freezing in the snow at four AM for the past ten days, I must report a major advantage of the cat species is their mastery of a litter box. If only dogs were so equipped.

I did enjoy quite a bit of that new invention they call digital cable ( I don’t own a television – a story for another entry ). Even with a selection of one hundred and seventy-five channels, there was always something on, yet so very little to watch. Oh how jaded the twenty-first century viewer has become. Despite this, I found it hard to look away from the glowing screen hour after hour.

Out to Lunch

Writer guy

Gun magazines, a stack of Tom Clancy books, and a target with one-inch groupings and fifty caliber holes said, this man likes his facts straight. First, a little background. This meeting came about because one of The Eight showed a SWAT officer a passage in the book, and he wanted to chat. So, Tuesday I met with him. We spoke for a bit and agreed he’d make a good technical adviser. On a side note, I met the Chief of Police, entirely by accident in the hall.

Until next Wednesday, I’m not very available, so the updates will be sparse. A small announcement will explain my absence.