The spring air was so fine
Rare and thin and pretty
As we drove along the river road
And watched as the car flipped
It was upside down
And the two guys got out
Looked around and asked
“Did you see that Robin?”
“First one of the spring!”
We did not see the Robin but
Helped turn the car
Back over
So they could continue their spring drive
My first job earning a paycheck introduced me to a much wider variety of people than I had experienced before including, unfortunately, The Poop Fiend. I was 14 years old and was hired to help out after school and on weekends at a Vickers gas station on a main road just a few blocks from my home, which lasted about six months. Two other guys worked at the station; Charlie, an older man with a great sense of humor who liked to recite dirty poetry, and Mike, a young guy who was pretty serious and liked to tell me stories, usually involving his sex life. My job included all the menial tasks such as sweeping the station and parking lot, stocking the coolers, cleaning the bathroom, and so on. If it got real busy Charlie or Mike would call me back behind the counter to help operate the pumps and wait on customers. I enjoyed the job and really liked getting a paycheck, until that fateful day when I went into the mens room to give it a quick clean. What was supposed to go into the toilet was smeared everywhere; on the walls, the toilet seat and handle, the sink and handles and the mirror. Mike was furious, but since it was “my department” I alone had to clean it up. Thinking that was the worst that could ever happen to me on the job I shook it off, until it happened again, and again. Mike was obsessed with catching this poop fiend, for which I was glad, but it was taking longer than I had hoped. Somehow Mike had gotten the idea that it was a boy who lived in the neighborhood. We could see his house on the hill from the gas station, and Mike kept an eye on it until one day he spotted the kid walking down the hill towards the station. When the kid entered the mens room Mike grabbed a full size ax I had never noticed before and headed to that side of the station, telling me to stay inside. The next thing I saw was the kid running and screaming through the parking lot with Mike close behind, holding the ax over his head. In his terror the kid tripped and fell, rolling onto his back as the ax came down next to his head, embedding in the hot asphalt. The fiend wet his pants before getting up crying and running for home. We never heard from him, his parents or the police, or saw his handiwork again. Case solved!
A few days ago while walking down the driveway to get the mail (in the country most everyone has a mailbox at the road) I stopped to look at some of the lilac bushes that run along the front of our property. Over the years I have noticed that the buds of many trees and bushes start to grow during February, and our lilacs are full of big ones waiting for the command to open up. After months of snow and cold, seeing those large buds brought a smile to my face. Finally, some proof that the snow and ice and cold that surrounds us will not remain forever. After over a year of living in this part of Iowa it has become very apparent why there are so many wind farms dotting the landscape here and there. The last little snow storm that came through a few days ago dropped less than an inch of snow but the wind blew so fiercely that it created drifts here and there around the place over two feet high. Our two dogs, Marley and Steve, have discovered an outdoor snack of almost unlimited supply, namely rabbit poop. They sniff along with their noses down, eating the little pellets as they go. We have called them off, only for them to give us hurt looks then sneak off to an area of the property where we can’t see them to continue the feast. If only the rabbits would clean up after the dogs we would have a nice little system operating out here.
When my kids were preparing for college one of the sites we used was Fastweb, to look for scholarships. From their About page: “For over 25 years, we have worked to help students discover scholarships that are targeted to their strengths, interests and skills. We also assist students in discovering the right college for their budget, making tough financial aid decisions and finding internship opportunities that will help them bridge the divide between college and post-graduate life. Finally, we give students the option to pay for college with part-time jobs by offering part time job search and advice.” If you or someone you know has college looming in the near future take the time to check out this very helpful site.
Ingredients
Two or three chicken breasts, cubed
One package egg noodles or homemade noodles
One package mixed vegetables
One small onion, diced
Boil all together in water until done. Drain and set aside 1 cup of the broth. Put ingredients back in the pot with broth then add:
One can cream of chicken soup
A pinch of parsley, thyme, basil, dill weed, salt and pepper.
Heat through and serve with homemade bread
To make a soup from this dish simply keep more of the broth.
Once a month I highlight a piece of art I have created and posted on my Fine Art America site. This one is titled Memories from the Abstract Art Collection.
“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.”
Paul the Apostle, 2 Corinthians 9:6
Nature Research “is here to serve the research community by publishing its most significant discoveries—findings that advance knowledge and address some of the greatest challenges that we face as a society today. Our journals publish not only primary research but also reviews, critical comment, news and analysis.”
I was recently digging around in my books for something to read when I came across Trout Fishing In America by Richard Brautigan. That led to some research and I found a good site about him here, and an article about him here.
“Recently relaunched, American Heritage is the oldest, most widely known and respected popular U.S. history magazine. Central to its mission is making top-tier scholarship accessible to a wide range of audiences, proving that history can be lively, interesting, even spell-binding.”
Wise Bread “will help you discover savvy shopping tips to keep you stylish, sassy, and solvent. Financial advice that is easy to understand and easy to apply. Career and money-making ideas that’ll add zeros to your bank account. General adulthood know-how your parents forgot to tell you.”
What do we know
Us older and grey
About life that’s real
And problems today
Our time passes by
Until caught by our young
At first bewildered
They come to understand
That life is the footprint
Left by a bird
On a beach
When it takes flight
Waves
Wash
Away
While my earliest memory of elementary school might be nap time during Kindergarten, one of my fondest is of my first kiss. It was maybe second or third grade during outdoor recess when word began to spread that a pack of girls had decided they were going to kiss every boy on the playground, by force if necessary. A few pals and I had barely a chance to ponder this development when here came the girls running full speed in our direction, other boys scattering in front of them. When it quickly became obvious our group was their next target we all turned and yelled, “Run!” None of us made it very far, either falling down on purpose or just not running very fast. I was face up on the ground when the girl that caught me gave a long, wet kiss on the cheek. As soon as it was done she jumped up laughing and rejoined the pack to hunt down more boys. I remember a nice feeling coming over me; I liked that kiss, even though it was supposed to be gross. I can’t remember her name, but she was from Hawaii. For the rest of the year she would smile at me and say hi when we would see each other at school, mispronouncing my last name on purpose with a laugh. She was charming and I was smitten. There was no discussion of that kiss, or of anything else, just friendly greetings and smiles. The next school year I noticed her absence right away, and after asking around I found out she and her family had moved back to Hawaii. I knew that meant I would never see her again. A little lesson on infatuation and loss that I probably will never forget.
“The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.”
Elizabeth Bishop
Off The Back Porch 