Joe turned his delivery van into the parking lot of the station. It was Christmas Eve and he was the last courier out, all the trucks were parked in their assigned spaces and the lights were out. He found the last spot at the end of the parking lot and backed in. He sat there in his van for a moment reflecting on another Christmas delivery season.

With the increase and ease of e-commerce and special deals the retailers were offering all the way until Christmas Eve, he had worked more hours than any other delivery season. He didn’t mind the extra work, the overtime was nice and he had wanted to keep busy. The past year had been difficult, his divorce from his wife had been finalized, after 25 years of marriage they both decided it was time to move on, it wasn’t acrimonious but it was still hard. She got the house and he had moved into a small apartment until he found something else. Their son was married and living out of state and to keep the first Christmas from being awkward, they agreed that Joe’s wife would spend the holidays with their son while Joe worked, it was impossible to get time off this time of year anyhow.

Joe’s father had passed away during the summer. It wasn’t unexpected, his father had been in declining health for many years but the end was difficult. Joe’s mother had passed away many years ago, and his father had remarried within a year, it was quick….too quick for Joe and his siblings but his father was happy and had companionship, still Joe never warmed up to the idea that his father had a new wife. Joe had a cordial if cool relationship with his father’s new wife. As his father’s health deteriorated, the decision was made to place him in a nursing home, actually the decision was made before Joe was even told and he resented that his step-mom was taking control and making important decisions without Joe’s input.

Joe usually visited on the weekends when he knew she wouldn’t be there, and as he sat in his van, he thought back to one of his last visits with his father. He tried to time his visits right after lunch knowing that his father would be awake, there was something Joe wanted to talk to him about.

His father had a gold watch that Joe’s mom had given him for an anniversary gift. She had had it engraved on the back with their wedding date and his father wore it every day, but Joe couldn’t remember seeing his father wear it very much after he remarried and Joe was curious what had become of the watch. Now as he visited his father he tried to stir his memories of the watch.

“Hey Dad, how ya feelin ?”

“I’m tired, I’m always tired”

“Dad, I wanted to ask you about that gold watch that Mom bought for you, I don’t see you wear it anymore and I was wondering what happened to it ?”

“Your mother”….his Dad’s face brightened up….”did I ever tell you about the first time I laid eyes on your mother….she was working behind the counter at the ice cream shop and boy oh boy she was the cutest little thing I ever saw”…..his father chuckled at the memory….”I must have went in there every day for a week just to see her but I was too scared to ask her out so every day I just got some ice cream and left….I must have tried every flavor they had and this was before they had all these crazy kinds of flavors, you know it was just chocolate and vanilla and butter pecan and what was the other, oh ya, pistachio, ya I tried them all for a week and probably gained 10 pounds before I got the nerve to ask her out….boy she was the cutest little thing……after our first date I said to myself that I’m going to marry that girl someday….your mother was special, yes she was…what did you want to know ?”

“the watch she bought you, the gold one she bought you for your anniversary, you know the one she had engraved”….

his Dad’s face became blank and he suddenly had a far off look, finally he looked back at Joe…

“hey Joe, what day is it ?”…..

“it’s Sunday Dad, I always visit on Sunday”….

“what time is it ?”….

“it’s one, one o’clock”….

“at night or the afternoon ?”……..

“in the afternoon Dad, one in the afternoon…..do you remember that gold watch ?”

his Dad looked at him blankly……”I’m tired, I think I’ll go to sleep”….

“I just got here Dad, don’t you want to watch some TV, I can see if there’s a game on, or an old movie we can watch”…..

“no, I just want to sleep, I’m tired”…..

A week later his step-mom had called, his father was unresponsive and they had said he’d be gone in a day or two….Joe rushed to the nursing home and sat by his bedside…… his father passed two days later…….

A week after the funeral, he had stopped by his step-moms to retrieve his Dad’s personal effects, she had boxed them up and Joe looked through them while she prattled on about selling the place and moving to Florida….the box contained some old photo albums, his Dad’s dog tags and discharge papers from the Army, an old college yearbook and some newspaper clippings that his Mom had cut from the paper when his Dad had been mentioned, but no watch.

Joe got out of his van, locked the door and walked towards the station….a light snow had begun falling, but he hardly noticed. He turned on some lights and went into the break-room….there were pizza boxes stacked up on the counter. Joe opened the top box…empty…he tried another…empty….finally the fifth one he opened had one cold piece of pizza…he shrugged and began eating it….it was better than whatever was in his refrigerator at his little apartment. A further inspection of the boxes revealed one more piece of cold pizza. He picked the pineapples off the piece and ate that one too.

Christmas Eve and he was alone, the last one at work, eating cold pizza…..he just wanted this year to be over and to make a fresh start in the new one. He turned off the lights in the break-room and walked down the hallway to the time clock his wet boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. He suddenly stopped as he got closer to the time clock…..

“oh no…..no, no, no”….he exclaimed

sitting on the table next to the time clock was a small package, and Joe had a sinking feeling about it. There was a hand-written note taped to the small, brown box…..

“hey Joe, this package came in late from the airport, can you get it delivered before you leave…might be a Christmas present….Thanks and Merry Christmas”…..

Joe read the note and balled it up in his hand, he threw it toward the waste basket, it glanced off the side and fell to the floor. He turned the package over looking for an address….he sighed, of course the address was 20 minutes outside of town on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, he had nothing else to do and in this weather it might be another hour of overtime, so he grabbed the package and headed back to his van in the parking lot.

The snow was falling much harder as he walked across the parking lot, he had to brush it off the windshield and side windows before he could leave. He cranked up the heater as he pulled out of the parking lot, and turned on the radio…..

“Have a holly, jolly, Christmas, it’s the best time of the year”…….

he changed the station……

“silver bells….silver bells…it’s Christmas time in the city”…..

he tried another station….

“it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you”…..

In no mood to hear Christmas music, Joe clicked off the radio and drove in silence, the snow falling on deserted streets as he headed out of town.

Joe was familiar with the dirt road the package was going to, but the falling snow had made the trip take longer and as Joe slowly drove down the road he glanced at the address on the package and tried to see the numbers on the mailboxes. He stopped his van, got out and brushed off a mailbox…..nope not this one, but it should be coming up soon, but as Joe looked down the road he didn’t see anymore mailboxes or even houses in the distance. Perhaps it was a house that sat far off the road and he’d see the mailbox as he got closer to it. He slowly drove his van down the road, the snow making it difficult to see….this last package was quickly becoming a huge pain in his ass……but then he saw an opening….a driveway, maybe this was it…he got out again looking for a mailbox, but there was none….but as he looked down the driveway he could faintly see the lights of house back in the woods…..this has to be it he thought.

Joe got back in his van and sat there a moment….the snow had covered the driveway and Joe didn’t want to drive the van all the way down it only to discover there was nowhere to turn around, but he didn’t want to leave the van on the road, so he decided to back in just enough to get the van off the road and then he’d walk the package up to the house.

Joe slowly began backing the van into the driveway, his backup camera was partially covered by snow and the wind was blowing harder making the driveway difficult to see. He just wanted to get the van off the road….suddenly he felt the back tire sliding sideways…he quickly hit the brakes…too quickly and he felt the whole back end sliding off the driveway.

“no, no, no…oh shit”…..

He jammed it into park and then quickly into drive to try to get it back on the driveway but the one tire was just spinning….spinning and making that whirring sound that could only mean one thing….he was stuck….stuck on Christmas Eve, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

Joe got out of the van to assess the situation but he knew before he even looked that he was stuck. He sighed and shook his head….it seemed fitting and in his heart he felt that somehow he deserved this….by himself…stuck.

He grabbed the package off the seat and began walking up the driveway to the house. He hoped someone was home and maybe they might have a way to help him get his vehicle back on the road.

After a couple of minutes of walking he still couldn’t see the house …it must be way back in the woods Joe thought….the only sound was the wind whipping through the trees and Joe suddenly began to feel cold as the snow stung his face.

Finally, there was a clearing in the woods and a small log cabin appeared. There was a covered porch and the front light was on as if they were expecting someone. Joe stood there a moment looking at the log cabin….the roof was covered in snow and the chimney had smoke coming out of it, but he couldn’t tell if anyone was home…he looked at the package in his hand…

“I hope this is the place”….he mumbled to himself as he climbed the snowy steps….

he knocked on the door and waited…..he was about to knock again when suddenly the door flew open, and there before him was a man, an elderly man….he was lean and tall, he had longish hair but no too long, and he had a neatly trimmed full beard, he wore suspenders and a flannel shirt and perched on the end of his nose was a pair of reading glasses.

“well there, quite the night for somebody to be out….what do you have there ?”……he chuckled for no apparent reason and for a moment Joe just stood there silent, but he quickly gathered himself and replied….

“I have a package for you, it came in late from the airport and I figured I better get it out to you….might be a Christmas gift”……

“a package you say….well, well, well, indeed it probably is a gift….come in, come in, out of the cold….I just put another log on the fire and some water on to boil for tea and I insist you come in to warm up….it’s really coming down now isn’t it ?”…..

“oh I really shouldn’t….my boots are all wet and it’s getting late…I just wanted to deliver your package”…..

“nonsense, nonsense…I insist you come in and I’ve just taken molasses cookies out of the oven and you’re not going to turn down warm molasses cookies are you ?”….the man chuckled again and grabbed Joe by the elbow pulling him inside the cabin…..

“now Joe, you go sit down in that chair by the fire and I’ll get the tea and cookies”…..

Joe sat by the fire brushing snow off his coat…..the man had called him Joe….how did he know his name…he was quite sure he hadn’t told him his name…..Joe looked down, his company ID badge was hanging from a lanyard around his neck….oh, that’s how he knew, he must have read it off his badge, the old man was wearing those glasses but still it was quite small to read….suddenly the kettle whistled from the stove……

“ah, perfect timing….the tea’s ready and the cookies are ready too”….the man chuckled at this and Joe couldn’t help but feel at ease and comfortable in this elderly man’s log cabin.

“I do have a bit of a problem….you see as I was backing into your driveway my van slid off and I’m stuck and I was wondering if you had any way of getting me unstuck and back on the road”….

“stuck you say….well we can’t have you stuck here on Christmas Eve….no, no that won’t do, that won’t do at all, you probably have more deliveries to make…..I can help, indeed I can…I have just the thing to get you unstuck and on your way”………

“well, truthfully, this is my last delivery and I don’t want to inconvenience you……I just want to be on my way if you can help”……

“your last delivery…..how wonderful”…..the man exclaimed….”yes, we must get you on your way and headed home, everyone should be home on Christmas Eve, but first have some tea and a warm cookie, it’s a very old recipe and I only make them once a year”…….

At the mention of home Joe suddenly sagged in the chair….there was really no reason for him to go home and no one there waiting for him……he bit into the cookie…it was warm and wonderful and quite possibly the best molasses cookie he had ever tasted….he took a sip of tea and another bite of cookie….he looked up….the old man was sitting across from him in a big overstuffed chair, his fingers were pressed gently together in front of his face and Joe felt as if the old man was reading his mind.

Joe suddenly began talking…..he didn’t know why, but he told the old man everything……there was no one at home waiting for him this Christmas Eve. He told the old man the disappointment he felt that his marriage was over and the emptiness he felt at the loss of his father. Joe talked and talked, and the old man sat there quietly listening, never moving, never taking his eyes off Joe, and when Joe was finished the old man simply said….

“Joe, there’s magic on every Christmas Eve, you must always remember that…..and now you sit there and finish your tea and I’ll go right now and get your van back on the road so you can be on your way”……

the old man jumped right out of his seat, and moving quickly he donned his coat and hat and was out the door before Joe could even say anything.

Joe woke with a start….the door had blown open and a breeze had suddenly swept through the small cabin….the fire had gone out and Joe looked around startled that he had been sleeping. The old man was nowhere to be seen….

“He’s probably having a hard time getting my van back on the road”….. Joe muttered…..

“I better get out there and help him….my goodness, how long have I been sleeping”…. he wondered as he left the cabin and closed the door behind him…..

Joe began walking down the driveway….it had stopped snowing and there was a couple of inches on the ground….the night was now clear and crisp and as Joe walked he noticed there was no other footprints or even tire tracks in the snow….but then he saw it….his van was back in the driveway, pointed toward the road….the old man had done it….Joe ran the last 100 feet to the van elated that it wasn’t stuck…..

Joe looked around….where was that guy…he had to thank him, thank him for everything….his kindness, his hospitality and most of all for getting his van back on the driveway but Joe didn’t see him anywhere, it was as if he had disappeared.

Joe opened the van door and then he saw it….the package was sitting on the drivers seat…..

“what the….I delivered this to him….what’s it doing here…did he forget it when he pulled the van out ?”……

Joe saw there was a note attached to the package…he took it off and read it…

Joe….thanks for delivering the package but really it’s for you…remember to always keep love and compassion in your heart and keep the magic of Christmas Eve throughout the year….Merry Christmas !!!!

Joe read the note again and then again….

“the package is for me….but the address is for here”….he began turning the package over but there was no address on the package….

Joe looked around tentatively and slowly began opening the package…..there was some shredded paper inside the box and as Joe reached his hand into it he felt something made of metal, he closed his fingers around it and pulled it out scattering shredded paper in the snow….he held it in his palm and couldn’t believe his eyes…..it was a watch, a gold watch and it looked familiar, it looked just like his fathers watch….he turned it over…it was his fathers watch, for there engraved on the back was his parents anniversary date.

He stood there stunned…..he put the watch on and looked at it….it still worked and was set to the exact time…….Joe shook his head in disbelief….how could this be….the package that brought him to this address, the log cabin in the woods, the old man….none of it made sense, but as he looked at his fathers watch, it all made sense.

For a brief moment he thought about walking back down the driveway to the cabin and finding the old man, but he realized he would probably never find the man or the cabin again.

He stood there and looked up at the sky and marveled at all the stars….what had the old man said about Christmas Eve ?

“remember Joe, there’s magic on every Christmas Eve”

He read the note again….he climbed into his van, started it up and eased onto the road, and for the first time in a long time Joe felt happy….he turned on the radio and began singing, very loudly and very off key the Christmas song that was playing.

I watched tennis all morning, rode my bike in the afternoon, ate ribs that had been grilled and stayed up too late reading

A light snow had fallen overnight, a couple of inches had covered the ground….in fact it was still snowing as the man exited his car and headed to the trailhead. He liked hiking on this trail, he considered it a hidden gem in his small town. He was sure most people in town knew about it, but he hardly ever saw anyone hiking on it. Perhaps that was due to it’s design….it was a 3 mile loop that ran next to the small river that wended it’s way through town. Occasionally, he would encounter people walking with their dogs and he knew the high school cross-country teams ran on it, but the man hardly ever saw anyone else on his hikes and he kinda liked that. The trailhead was actually kind of hidden, unmarked next to the bike path, you had to know where it was, you could easily walk or bike right past it and not even realize it.

There was an immediate slight decline to the trail from the bike path and the man laughed to himself, if he fell at this point it would be a cold, wet hike, so he took small steps down the path and even ran the last few yards. He had worn his winter boots, hat, scarf, and gloves and he zipped up his coat to his chin as he felt a slight wind as he began.

The trail immediately went into the woods and this was probably his favorite part of the trail for within a minute of walking there was complete silence, not that there was much noise on a Sunday morning but you felt completely enveloped by the woods and all sounds of modern life were extinguished.

The man’s boots crunched in the new fallen snow and he noticed there was only one other set of footprints, and since they were headed in the same direction as he was, he knew the person ahead of him was still out there. The man consciously walked on the other side of the path so as to not follow in the other persons footprints.

The beginning part of the trail was unique, for about 50 yards the pine trees were perfectly aligned on both sides of the trail. The trees soared to the sky and although the lower branches had died off the upper branches created an almost tunnel effect for those walking under them. The man always wondered how this had happened, was it simply how the trail had been created, a unique man-made circumstance of cutting away some trees to create the trail, or was it nature at work, unexplainable and best left to marvel at.

The trail briefly opened up into a meadow and turned slightly away from the river before turning back to it. In the meadow was a small pavilion with a picnic table under it. The man had never seen anybody having a picnic at the pavilion or even seen anyone sitting at the table, but he always thought that maybe one day he would bring a lunch and eat his lunch at the table under the pavilion by the river.

There was a slight incline to the trail and now he was above the river and he stopped and looked out over it. It hadn’t been cold enough to completely freeze but he did notice a thin layer of ice on the top part that had trapped some small trees that had fallen into the river. The man noticed a rabbit scurrying across the thin ice, and he held his breath until the rabbit made it safely over to the other side, and as he continued walking he wondered about the animals who crossed the river when it was frozen, did they go back and forth or did they stay on one side after they crossed, and what if they crossed only to be trapped on the wrong side when it thawed.

The man was still thinking about all this as the trail opened and turned again. He suddenly noticed the wind was in his face and the snow that had been pleasantly falling was now stinging his face. He unzipped his coat and pulled his scarf out to cover his face and zipped his coat back up tight again.

Suddenly the man had one overwhelming thought….he missed her. As he thought this, he smiled…he no longer was burdened by her absence, in fact he had been allowing himself to think this once a day. He smiled again and said it out loud this time….”I miss her”…..

He smiled again…..he found by saying it out loud, by hearing his own voice saying it, he wasn’t overcome by her absence and he always made sure to remind himself to remember how it ended….bitterness, disappointment, anger and the sudden finality of it. Yes, if he was going to miss her, he had to remember the ending. Still….Sunday mornings were different…..

He usually woke up early and went to the porch to get the Sunday paper. He’d bring it back to the bed and he’d begin reading it. She’d feign like she was sleeping and she might even mildly protest but she quickly joined him in grabbing a section to read. They’d “fake” argue about who’s turn it was to read the funnies first and then they’d settle in and read their favorite sections, exchanging sections as they went. Some Sundays though they’d hardly read the paper at all, they’d toss it on the floor and they’d lay in bed talking about the week that was and make plans for the day and upcoming week. Other times they’d simply fall back asleep for a while, the warmth of their bodies a reassuring comfort. After about an hour he’d get up and make her breakfast…..he missed that….he missed all of that.

The trail came to the only large hill and the man was worried that he might slip going up it, but he navigated it quickly and he stood on top of the hill and looked about him. He could see the river below him and the town off in the distance slowly waking up. The light snow continued to fall and everything was silent. He stood there for many moments with not a thought at all, and he felt the snow hitting his face.

He slowly picked his way down the hill, the trail was very narrow here and he couldn’t help but walk in the footprints of the person before him. He was coming to the last part of the trail and he began to think about the rest of his day. The cat would be up and waiting for him wanting to be fed, and he had wood to cut for the fire.

The trail widened again and the only sound he heard was his boots crunching in the snow, and he thought of his new favorite poem which he had committed to memory….

From the second that you’re in this world they tell you what is fair,

the questions you’re allowed to ask, and the ones you wouldn’t dare

Placed on the path they’ve paved for you,

life pushed you along without the chance to stop and think if it’s right where you belong,

but beyond your pathways edges is where living really starts

a land of risks & danger, and a land of broken hearts

they tell you you should fear this land, that there’s no good there at all,

and live your life as they’ve been taught behind expectations wall

but the best people you will ever meet have wandered off their track,

found themselves along the way, and have no need to wander back

so forget about life’s road map, follow your heart at any cost

for you’ll never truly find yourself if you’re too scared to get lost

The man shoved his hands into his coat pockets and with his boots crunching through the snow he walked on the other side of the path, not wanting to step in the footprints of the person ahead of him.

I recently ended a relationship. It was a difficult decision, and one I didn’t take lightly. In fact I pondered this decision for weeks before I finally came to the conclusion that I was making the right choice. After all, I had been in this relationship for about 20 years, but I firmly believe that all relationships have an expiration date, and the time had come to end this one….after 20 years I finally bought a new lunch bag.

My old lunch bag wasn’t even a bag at all, and in the end that was part of the problem. It was a small red and white cooler and although it still did all the things I needed it to do, I had grown tired of it. The spark was gone, I no longer felt the thrill or excitement that I once did when I carried it back and forth to work. Sure it had served me well all these years, it had kept my water cold even on the hottest days and it was the perfect size for my thermos of soup on the coldest of days, and it held everything I needed for my lunch, my sandwich and snacks, my yogurt and fruit. I would even throw all my other stuff in there, like my car keys, my hand sanitizer and of course my face mask, and that became part of the problem….I was forever rummaging around looking for the one thing I needed. My hand sanitizer was under a bottle of water, the snack I wanted was under my sandwich and somehow at the end of the day I could never find my car keys even though by then my cooler was almost empty.

I also started noticing it didn’t look the same after all these years, it was starting to show it’s age. Although I cleaned the inside and outside every week, it still looked dirty and scuffed up. I started noticing other people looking at it funny and making comments like…..

“why are you still with that cooler ?”…..and

“you know, you can do better than that cooler, just move on”

Of course they were right, I just needed to move on, make a clean break and start with a newer, better looking lunch container.

I found myself wandering down the aisle at the store that had all the lunch containers. I noticed they had really come a long way, most of them weren’t even coolers at all, they were lunch bags that were also coolers. At first I was just curious about them….I wasn’t even sure I would get a new one, I just liked looking at them. Every time I would go to the store I would find myself in the lunch bag aisle….I started taking them off the shelf and feeling them. I noticed the differences between them and compared them to each other.

“oh this one has 4 pockets and water bottle holders on each side, but this one has straps to carry it like a backpack, and this one has WHEELS….WHEELS for gods sake to roll it around”….

although I couldn’t imagine any circumstance I would need to roll my lunch bag around it was a pretty nifty feature.

I noticed the different colors and sizes, the zippers and pockets. I started making excuses to go to the store just to look at them. I would imagine carrying my lunch bag into work and proudly showing it off to my co-workers, showing them all the cool features and them being jealous. I also would imagine taking my new bag other places, places I hadn’t taken my old one to in a long time, like to the beach on a hot summers day, or on a hike through the woods or maybe on a moonlit stroll on a starry night, just because.

In the end, it really wasn’t a hard decision, it was time to move on. My old cooler and I had a long run together, and it was great, but everything ends and when it does, it doesn’t diminish what once had been.

So I bought the lunch bag with the backpack straps, the multi-pockets and the water bottle holders on both sides. My old cooler is sitting out in the garage….I keep thinking that maybe someday I’ll use it for something else, but I probably won’t….more likely it’ll get taken to the curb on trash day. Relationships end and time marches on…and now I just have to remember which pocket in my new bag I put my car keys.

Be Kind and Take Care,

John

I like to read, but I’ve noticed that I rarely can remember what I’ve read. I try to read the paper everyday and I could tell you in a general sense the articles I’ve read, but I couldn’t give you any specifics. I probably started with the sports page and read something about the Tigers latest game, and sure I could tell you whether they won or lost and who contributed but any specifics, probably not. I then turned to the news section and read about the latest disaster. Maybe it was fires in California or flooding in New York or storms in Florida, or perhaps I read about the latest news about the pandemic, masks, school openings and closings, hospitals full, people arguing, of course all that’s been going on for over a year now so the specifics get muddled.

I’ve always envied those people who can quote sections of their favorite books or verses from their favorite poem right off the top of their heads. I’ve seen people quote famous lines from Shakespeare and I’m always amazed. I mean, sure I can give you

“to be or not to be…that is the question ?” or “a rose by any other name”

but that’s about my knowledge of famous Shakespeare quotes, although to be fair, I never really read that much Shakespeare…..really does anyone ?

What really bothers me is when I read a good book and I can’t really remember certain parts of it or why I thought it was good. I certainly can’t quote phrases or passages….I might be able to give you a general overview of the book, but I’ll probably tell you it was a good book because it had a good story and good writing.

I’ve read The Great Gatsby three times and I’ll be damned if I can quote one line from it. Ok, you’re probably wondering why I read The Great Gatsby three times so I will tell you.

I don’t actually remember the first time I read it….I was in my 20’s and it was one of those books that people tell you you just gotta read, so I did, which is kinda funny because if it’s one of those books “you just gotta read” then how come I made it through 12 years of school and 4 years of college and nobody asked me to read it. I remember feeling a little disappointed after reading it the first time. I mean at first the Gatsby character is fantastical with his wealth and wild parties….who wouldn’t want to be part of the Long Island party scene of the roaring 20’s ? But then you just realize he’s doing all this to get the attention of an old girlfriend from his hometown….oh c’mon dude move on, she did….and besides, he could probably get any woman he wanted. If anything, the whole book just proves that guys will do the most stupid things to get the attention of a woman.

So I let Gatsby sit on the shelf for 10 years before I revisited it, hoping to find it’s greatness. Not surprisingly, it was the same…..wild parties, interesting but flawed characters and this time I distinctly remember feeling angry. Gatsby is a tragic character, unable to move on, trapped by the hope of the past and he pays dearly for it….meanwhile the people who cause the destruction and misery move on, they don’t have any trouble moving on and they leave other people to clean up their messes.

So, I put Gatsby on the bookshelf next to the other books “you just gotta read”….Huck Finn, Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird. I figured it would gather dust….oh sure I would recommend it to anyone who hadn’t read it and I would tell them…”you just gotta read it,”……but I figured I was done trying to figure out it’s greatness….heck I was never any good at that anyhow, figuring what the author was really trying to say.

Then, a couple a months ago, I heard an audio reading of Gatsby, each chapter was read by a different person…..and it was magic. The words that I had read and couldn’t remember and couldn’t make sense of came alive, leaping off the page in wonderful sentences and paragraphs, a literary symphony to my ears. I listened and re-listened, going back when I heard a passage that was especially well written like this one:

I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited….they went there. They got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow they ended up at Gatsby’s door. Once there they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with amusement parks. Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission.

That simple paragraph alone describes half of the book……it’s almost perfect.

So I read Gatsby again, and this time I didn’t worry about the story, of course I knew what was going to happen, so I didn’t worry about Gatsby and his wild party’s and his so called friends or his shady business dealings. I wasn’t angry that Tom & Daisy just pick up and go somewhere else….heck I figured they deserve each other and the misery they cause others is just a reflection of their own miserable relationship. I didn’t worry that the narrator, Nick, became disillusioned and ended up moving back to the mid-west. No, I was able to read it again and just enjoy it, enjoy it for the writing and the time period it takes place in, enjoy it for the unique characters, enjoy it for the story it tells and what it tells about us.

That’s why I’ve read The Great Gatsby three times, but I still can’t quote any lines from it. No, I suppose there are some people who can just remember their favorite lines from a book and others who can’t….for those of us who can’t, it is kinda enjoyable to pick up and read a book you’ve already read and discover it all over again.

As always….journey well and be kind to each other,

John

I was at the grocery store the other day, and as I write this, I realize this is probably the 3rd story I’ve written about being at the grocery store. That may seem odd, but when you think about it, everybody needs to eat and most people eat at least 3 times a day and although some people eat out maybe once or twice a week or maybe they grab lunch at the drive-thru, most people eat the majority of their meals at home with items purchased from the grocery store.

So, it’s really not that surprising that unique things happen at the grocery store. It’s a place everyone goes to at least once a week, I swear there are some weeks when we’re there 2 or 3 times a week to just pickup a few items.

It happened to be on a Wednesday when I made one of those trips to the grocery store to just pickup a few items. It was our small hometown grocery store, not the large big box superstore we usually go to on the weekend. It’s a nice, recently remodeled store that has everything you need from a grocery store, you know a deli and bakery, an extensive beer and wine selection and most uniquely, a cashier at each open register, none of those self checkout registers. I had picked up my handful of items, mostly vegetables for our evening salad and a chocolate milk for me for the ride home, and I made my way to the Express Lane.

The Express Lane is 15 items or less and as I stood there I pondered how the number of items permitted in the Express Lane seems to have grown. It used to be 10 or 12 items and now we’re up to 15 which really doesn’t seem like an Express Lane when a person only has a couple of items and the person ahead of them has 15, because if they have 15 items, how do we know they don’t really have 16 or even 20 items, which really kinda defeats the purpose of the Express Lane.

This expansion of the Express Lane seems to be following a trend all across our society….bigger, wider, more, more, more. Our vehicles are bigger, our houses and garages are bigger, our waistlines are bigger so we need bigger seats at the movie theater and on the airplanes and at the stadiums. Perhaps it’s a bit far-fetched to blame the growing number of items at the Express Lane to our excessive need for bigger everything, but it is an interesting thought process.

As the cashier was ringing up my items, as she stood behind her plexiglass divider and with her face obscured by a mask, she asked me to enter my Perks number, at least that’s what I thought she said because every conversation with someone behind a plexiglass divider with their mouth covered by a mask sounds like a conversation with an adult from the Peanuts cartoons.

“Mmmph, mmph, mmph, mmmph and mmph……”

“yes it is a nice day….”

“Mmmmph, mmmpppp, mmmmph mmmmpph….”

“no, I don’t have a stomach ache….I’m actually feeling quite well…”

“mmmph, mmmph, perks, mmmph…”

“oh yes, I do have a perks number”

As I was entering my Perks number, I noticed a sign that said customers 55 and older could get Double Perks on Wednesdays.

I contemplated telling the cashier that I had just recently turned 55 and therefore would qualify for Double Perks on Wednesdays. I’m not even sure what Double Perks even means or how I would use them as I don’t think I’ve ever redeemed any of my perk points. Who knows, I could already have a million perks and if I got Double Perks I might soon have a billion perks, and with the way the Perks program works, a billion perk points might get me about $20 off my next shopping trip.

The problem is, I don’t actually look 55 and nobody believes me when I tell them I’m 55….in fact everyone says

“you look great”….and “I never would have guessed your that old…..”

So if I would have told the cashier my age, I’m sure she wouldn’t have believed me and she probably would make me show my drivers license and then there would be that awkward moment as she tries to figure out my age from the year I was born, and meanwhile the line behind me grows and the people start whispering…..

“what’s going on up there….?”

“does he have more than 15 items in the express lane ?”

“Oh god, is he using coupons ?”

“No, he’s trying to get Double Perks…”

“Double Perks ?……he can’t get Double Perks, he’s not 55, the nerve of some people”

So I guess I’ll continue to get single Perks, even on Wednesdays, and wait for that day when I look my age….it’ll come soon enough, but I promise you, I’ll never act my age.

As always….be kind, and take care of each other…

Peace,

John

They say we all turn into our parents eventually. When this happens is probably different for everybody, but I tend to think it begins once you have your own children and you find yourself using phrases, and doing things your parents used to do. We all remember certain sayings are parents would repeat over and over to emphasize a point they wanted to make. My mom always used that timeless classic….

“because I said so”……

Looking back at my childhood, I might have been a rather annoying child because another saying I always remember my mother repeating was…..

“just give me 5 minutes of quiet”…..

Of course she might have been referring to my other two siblings more than me, but I remember most times when she said this, I was the only one in the room.

There’s a series of insurance commercials currently running…..aren’t most commercials now-a-days insurance commercials, are we this poorly insured or incapable of finding insurance somehow that we need an endless loop of commercials reminding us we need insurance, but at least they are humorous…..this set of commercials highlights the very fact that people turn into their parents and exhibit behaviors like their parents. A therapist conducts seminars to help them try to not become their parents….like I said, at least the commercials are humorous, but I tend to think it’s all in vain….we all become are parents.

My mom also had this tendency to combine snacks…..she didn’t like a bunch of bags or boxes of snacks that were half gone. She probably could have invented Chex Mix back in the 70’s if she had a little foresight because there were numerous times I began eating a bag of chips to find that there were also pretzels, Chex cereal, Cheez-its and peanuts in with the chips.

The other day I was standing in front of the pantry staring at 4 boxes of cereal, 2 of which I knew without even picking up that there was less than 1/3 of cereal left in them, but of course nobody likes to be the one to finish a box of cereal when it gets low. Your left with the conundrum of either not having enough to make a full bowl or having enough for a bowl but it’s mainly crumbs and cereal dust….and nobody likes to eat cereal dust. My son also has this habit of eating the same cereal everyday for 2 months or so, then he grows tired of it and switches to a new cereal just after he’s opened a fresh box. I know exactly what cereal he was eating 2 months ago because a half a box of it is still in the pantry.

That’s when I found myself mumbling about needing room in the pantry and the need to get rid of these almost gone cereals, but of course I didn’t want to just throw them away….that would be wasteful.

Much to my son’s surprise, his next bowl of cereal will be…..Honey nut raisin cinnamon toast corn puffs.

Other thoughts……

I haven’t been doing much writing lately….a combination of lack of time, lack of subjects and general malaise. I find myself “writing” things in my head….but that’s probably the worst place to write because I’m usually busy and don’t have the time to actually write down what I’m thinking.

I recently saw a documentary on Ernest Hemingway, and he always devoted his mornings to writing, which was rather amazing because it seemed he always devoted his evenings to drinking. I have neither the time to do the one nor the desire to do the other……so I guess I’m no Hemingway…but you probably already knew that if you’ve read any of my blog postings. I dare say Hemingway never wrote about Nutella, so I’ve got one on ol’ Ernest.

I actually have a couple of stories I’ve partially written and saved on my blog, but I haven’t finished them enough to post them. Looking back at them, I’m not sure if they’ll be good enough to post or if they were ever good enough to start.

I recently read an interesting essay on writers and the process of writing, and one of the main points the author made was that the process of writing sucks until it all comes together at the end.

I had never heard of this author who wrote this essay, but he had some wonderful experiences…..one time he was in Pampolona Spain attending the festival where they run the bulls through the streets and he found himself in a small bar sitting across from a gentleman who introduced himself as someone else but who was clearly Ernest Hemingway….the white beard, the large imposing features….Pappa in all his glory, and this was before it was a “thing” to dress up and impersonate famous people. No, it was clearly Hemingway attending the festival that one of his famous books, The Sun Also Rises, was based upon, but trying to do so incognito, which is fairly humorous in itself.

The author of this essay was also friends with Peter Benchley in the 70’s, he of a little book called Jaws, which made for a frightful summer at the beach the year the movie came out. Apparently the author was complaining to Benchley that writing was difficult and questioning why he even tried to do it. Benchley, listened patiently for awhile and then asked a simple question…..

“if you no longer had to write because you had made enough money from it to live off, would you still do it?”……

I believe that’s what’s called a rhetorical question…

and now I feel like a snack…….I think there’s a bag of pretzel cheez-its peanut chips in the pantry….somebody’s been combining cereal and snacks again

Stay healthy and be kind….

John

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?

I love that saying, it makes you think about what you do and how you live your life. Your actual age is just a number that signifies when you were born….but how old are you?

Sometimes I look in the mirror, like really look in the mirror, not just a cursory look as I get ready in the morning. I’ll turn my head this way and that, I’ll notice lines and wrinkles….was that one there before…..? did that one deepen….? Sometimes I feel the way I look, but other times I catch a glimpse of the younger guy I used to be. If I’m really thinking about it, I wonder what happened to him and where did the time go….silly I know, but it happens. Everyone’s different….the things I do that I think keep me feeling young just might be the things that are aging me. I hope not, but there are times when my knees and back tell me differently.

I recently spent a long weekend in Florida. The main purpose of my trip was to visit my parents who spend their winters there, but I was also glad to go and leave a cold Michigan winter for a few days.

My parents live in a senior manufactured home park. It’s nice….there’s a clubhouse for activities and a pool to float in. My parents have been there awhile so they know everyone. This winter has been difficult….because of the pandemic, the clubhouse is closed for activities, the number of people at the pool is limited. My dad no longer has an interest in going anywhere. The kitchen table, the patio, the living room, the bedroom…..he moves between these four places throughout the day.

I watch him slowly maneuver his walker down the steps and out the door. Even with a walker, I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t fall. An outstretched hand or arm meant for support is sometimes met with a glare or an irritated wave, so it’s best to let him go and be there if he asks for help. He glances at the newspaper, no longer that interested in actually reading it. He tries to complete one of his word puzzles but he gives up after only finding half of the words. He dozes on the patio, a fleece jacket covering him in the 80 degree heat. From the table on the patio, he can see everyone walking by, he knows them all but has no interest in conversation.

The kitchen table, the patio, the living room, the bedroom……

On the wall of the dining room is a large clock. It’s the only object on that wall so your eyes are drawn to it. You can see it from both the kitchen and the living room. It was there when my parents moved in….their place came fully furnished, the previous owner had passed away and the family just wanted to sell it. It’s one of those clocks that you can hear the second hand…..tick, tick, tick, tick,….60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour…..tick, tick, tick, tick, ….round and round.

I glanced at it one time when I was cleaning up the kitchen and the house was quiet. I glanced at it again and began walking over to it. The loud ticking of the second hand seemed to echo throughout the house, but as I got closer I realized there was no second hand. I peered really close….the ticking was even louder as I got closer, but the second hand wasn’t there.

It was then that I noticed the face reflecting back at me…..it startled me and I took a step back…I even turned around to see if anyone was behind me, but I knew whose face it was…..tick, tick, tick, tick.

Someday, my mom will sell their place in Florida and move back to Michigan full-time. She doesn’t like the heat as much as my dad does, and she’ll be closer to family, friends and grand-kids. A new family will move in….they probably won’t even notice the clock on the wall…..they’ll be friends to entertain and family will come visit, the beaches are close by and probably by then the clubhouse and pool will be open.

No, they probably won’t even notice the clock on the wall….but someday in the future when there’s fewer parties to go to and the kids and grand-kids don’t come by as much, and the house is quiet, they’ll hear it.

tick, tick, tick, tick……..

“The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.”

-Robert Swan

explorer & climate activist

*authors note….I sometimes struggle when choosing a title…it wouldn’t seem that hard, in fact you would think that most stories write their own title’s and sometimes that happens, but occasionally I sit here and stare at the screen trying to think of the perfect title that will grab a readers attention and draw them in. For instance, this story was going to be called… A Walk in the Woods….but I realized that I had already used that title on a previous blog post. About 2 years ago I wrote a story of my son and I hiking through the woods, he was 16 at the time and we discussed those issues that are important to a teenager. It’s perhaps my favorite story, so if you haven’t read it, please check it out after reading this one. Sometimes the best titles are the simple ones and there’s nothing more simple than a 1 word title, and that’s how this story got this title*

I’ve been doing more hiking this winter. I’ve found it to be both enjoyable and a great way to get outside at a time of year when it can be a struggle to find a reason to be outside. You may think that hiking in the woods in the winter is less than ideal, but I would disagree. Sure the ground is frozen and can be snowy and icy and in places it can be slippery, but it’s also a symphony for the senses. The snow crunching beneath your boots, the cold, raw air filling your lungs, your breath visible as you exhale after climbing a hill. The occasional sounds of birds or other woodland creatures scurrying about searching for food in the dwindling daylight hours.

Yes, winter is perhaps the second best time of year for hiking in the woods. I think we can all agree that fall is the best with the leaves changing colors and the heat of the summer gone. Spring is actually the worst, the woods are muddy and wet from the spring rains and the melting of the earth. There’s about a 3 week period between spring and summer that’s ideal for a hike through the woods, but then the heat of the summer means the woods will quickly become overgrown with brush and filled with bugs, mosquitos and tics, making a trip to the woods more annoyance than pleasure.

On a recent Saturday morning, I was told that “someone” had left the door to the basement open and a draft was coming up the stairs chilling the whole house, and then “someone” had put a dark t-shirt into the wrong laundry hamper and do you even know what would happen to all the whites if a dark t-shirt was washed with them.

Now, I’m no expert on the chemical properties of t-shirt dye and how it mixes and runs with the hot water and soap of laundry detergent, but I did realize it was time to go for a hike….a long hike.

I am fortunate enough to live about 15 minutes from a county park that has miles of hiking trails. In a normal winter with plentiful snow fall, there’s a wonderful sledding hill that’s packed on the weekends with parents and kids careening down the hill, the sounds of laughter and yelling filling the air. But this winter there has been a surprising lack of snow which meant a bare sledding hill and a virtually empty park, a bonus for me as I prefer to have the trails to myself, my thoughts filling my head and ideas coming and going…now don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of lots of people outside exercising and enjoying nature and the world about them, I just prefer if we’re not on the same trail at the same time to avoid that awkward moment when you realize your going at a different pace and you have to decide whether to speed up to pass them or slow down a little. I invariably slow down a little, but then I realize it would just be better to pass them and I speed up to get around them as quick as possible.

The first 15 minutes of my hike I followed the trail along the river. The above average temperatures meant that the river was not frozen and it ran high and fast. I stopped for a few minutes to watch it and I would like to tell you that during those couple of minutes I thought about how winters seemed much different than when I was a kid, it seemed like we always had lots of snow for sledding and skiing. I would like to tell you how I was thinking about global warming and how it’s affecting our world around us, how the ice caps and glaciers are melting resulting in a changing habitat for polar bears and penguins, how even a slight rise in the temperatures can cause catastrophic effects on nature.

What I was actually thinking about was when I was a kid, I would throw a stick into a river and then run alongside the bank following it downstream. I would imagine a frog or tadpole would climb aboard the stick and ride on it like it was his boat. I would chase after the stick until I could no longer keep up with it and the river took it out of sight. I would stand there wondering what had become of the stick and wondering how far it would go downstream.

The river made a gentle turn and went out of sight as the path went the other way. I trudged along stepping carefully as the path become more slippery with patches of snow and ice. The path was going more into the woods and the trees lining it meant that the sun rarely reached this area. The sound of the rushing river had been replaced by the sound of silence, only my boots crunching on the ground across the snow and ice.

A few minutes later, coming in the opposite direction, I encountered the first other people I had seen in the park. I recognized them, not that I knew them, but I knew who they were. There is a monastery in our county and the 4 men approaching me were monks. The long black robes and long beards gave them away. I’ve been to their monastery with deliveries, it’s a beautiful, large piece of land out in the country. It’s surrounded by woods and has a large pond, it’s so large that the word pond doesn’t do it justice, it’s actually more like an in-land lake. I’m not quite sure how many monks are there or what they do….perhaps they make candles and wine and meditate all day.

These monks were not on a vow of silence as they approached me. They all seemed to be talking excitedly and one was even waving his hands wildly. As I got closer to them I wondered if I would hear a deep philosophical conversation about religion or mans place in the universe, so I was a little disappointed as we passed each other that I heard the words “Tik-Tok” being spoken and something about the latest dance one of them had seen. Hmmm, I wondered, have the monks given up the wine and candle making and they spend their days making “Tik-Tok” videos hoping they go viral? Could this be a new phenomenon, the “Tik-Toking” monks of Michigan? Perhaps these monks weren’t as orthodox as I had thought, perhaps they had fully embraced social media and were “Instagramming” their days and “tweeting” updates from the monastery, perhaps they even had “followers” who checked in every day.

I was still thinking about the social media monks when I came upon a split in the trail. I stood there, the Robert Frost poem about the different paths we travel popped into my head.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

The one path went straight and was much like the trail I was on, flat with some snow covering it. The other path went up a hill and was covered in snow and ice. Usually I like a good climb and a challenge.

I stood there for a while and pondered my next move, actually I stood there far longer than I should have and I realized I was making this far more difficult than it needed to be, it was just choosing between 2 paths on a hike in the woods on a cold January day. The path before me, the flat one, was well traveled as evidence from the numerous footprints in the snow. The path leading to the hill showed hardly any footprints, and the hill was icy so it was hard to tell if anyone had climbed it recently. I looked around, there was no one else near me, no one else watching, no one to prod me one way or the other.

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

I took the flat path straight in front of me. I didn’t want to risk slipping and sliding on the hill and perhaps falling or turning an ankle….and I instantly regretted it. I silently cursed myself….why did I take this “safe path?”

This path was well traveled but had no adventure to it, the other path went up a hill and who knows what was at the top, there could have been many more paths and adventures at the top of that hill, and the path I was on, the safe path, the path well traveled by many others was leading me nowhere. I thought about turning around and going back and charging up that hill slippery conditions be damned, but honestly I hate turning around, I hate going back, I hate the regrets. Maybe it’s simply I hate admitting I should have done the other thing…I had made a poor decision and it bothered me.

But as so often happens when hiking in the woods or in life, another opportunity soon presented itself with another fork in the trail, and once again I was standing before a path leading to a hill or I could continue on the path I was on.

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back

Well, I think you know where this is headed, I turned toward the path leading to the hill. The hill was covered in snow and ice, and I slipped more than once and almost fell. I wondered if I actually did fall, would I slide all the way back down the hill ?

I reached the top a short time later and looked about. From my vantage point I could see most of the park, the river off in the distance, the trails I had been on and the ones still to be discovered. They would have to wait for another day as the January light was quickly fading.

I hope I don’t disappoint you, because if you’ve read this far, you’re probably thinking that I have some great wisdom to tell you about paths in the woods and life’s journey….but I don’t. I will tell you this….getting up that hill wasn’t half as difficult as getting down that damned thing, and perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned from that…but I’ll let you decide for yourself.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages ages hence;

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

*authors note…..yes, TWO authors notes on ONE blog….while researching the poem by Frost, I came across an interesting story written by his biographer and since I found it on the internet, it must be true. It seems that Frost sent a rough draft of this poem to a literary friend/critic in England. Evidently they used to go walking in the woods when they were younger and this friend would always lament that they should have taken a different path. So Frost wrote this poem as a way to poke fun of his friend. His friend, not at all seeing himself in the poem but seeing the deeper meaning in the words, wrote back to Frost saying something like “hey, I think you’ve got something here.” They proceeded to exchange a couple of more letters each trying to get their point across, and eventually the friend must have convinced Frost of the worthiness of his work….and we are all the beneficiary’s of it. *

Journey well, friends….

John