Grayquill Keep Quiet

Do you ever do something with good intentions and then realize well that wasn’t very respectful? I had one of those moments this morning. A little background might be needed….

It was late. The weather man just mentioned we would have near freezing temps tonight. As usual my mind bumped from faucets to pipes to cars….oh yeah my truck!!!

 #$^@!!!

I forgot to add antifreeze to my truck.  I meant to do that. I just keep forgetting. Well, the news guy did say ‘near’ freezing. I can wait. I think I will go to bed now.

A few days passed with rainy, temps in the forties. Do you think I bought the antifreeze? Why would I? It’s not freezing yet.

It was again late and the weather man just mentioned we would have near freezing temps tonight. As usual my mind bumped from faucets to pipes to cars….oh yeah my truck!!!

 #$^@!!!

I forgot to add antifreeze to my truck.  I meant to do that. I just keep forgetting. Well, the news guy did say ‘near’ freezing. I can wait. I think I will go to bed now. Tomorrow I will go to the auto parts store at lunch and pickup the antifreeze.

Tomorrow came, lunch came and I had forgotten all about the antifreeze. The sun was out and there is no prettier place than the northwest when the crisp clear fall air allows the sun to shine on snow cover mountain peaks, highlighting the bright green evergreens contrasted by the reds and golds from the changing oak trees. It was a great lunch, but no antifreeze was purchased.

Heading home the guy on the radio said we would again have near freezing temps. That reminded me. Perfect, I would stop and pick up that antifreeze now, and I did. Now, with the antifreeze in my trunk I headed home with full intentions of taking care of the antifreeze truck problem as soon as I got home.  It was less than a minute or two and that thought was long gone, My mind now traveled down roads of who knows where.

Yip you guessed it. It was late and the news guy just said, we would have near freezing temps tonight. As usual my mind bumped from faucets to pipes to cars….oh yeah my truck!!!

 #$^@!!!

I forgot to add the antifreeze to my truck.  I meant to do that. I just keep forgetting. Well, the news guy did say ‘near’ freezing. I can wait. I think I will go to bed now.

I have this personal problem. Some would call it procrastination but I would rather say, I hold off until the need is directly in front of me. It saves so much planning.

By some miracle the next evening when I arrived home from work the antifreeze was added to my old trucks radiator. The process sparked a memory. I remembered my son telling me he had had a water leak also. He is a bit better than I am! He fixed his leak by putting in a new radiator. Now that’s a fresh idea.  Regardless, if it would have been me, I would probably have forgotten to buy the antifreeze when I bought the radiator. That would have resulted in a new radiator filled with straight water. I would have reasoned I can pick up the antifreeze later.  So, naturally I thought my son probably did not have antifreeze in his radiator. What do you think I did with that thought?  If he was still a teenager the question would probably have been okay, but still maybe a little insulting but at age 25? GEEZZZEE! What’s wrong with me?

I think my son is more gracious than I am, but he did ask me why I was asking such a question.

I need your help. How should I answer?

A 40th HS Reunion

WOW! He Once had Hair

Three large cookie trays were spread out on the counter. All were now greased and my daughter was beginning to flatten the stiff dough into the first tray. It looked like hard work. A slight smile was on her face as she methodically worked the dough.
This year it was just my wife and youngest daughter, for the traditional pre-holiday baking. Usually a few others show up for the occasion. Russian tea cakes, camel haystacks, chocolate covered almond bar things??? – I am not sure what they are called, and this year there was a new surprise truffle of some sort.
On these occasions I do my best to stay on the observer side of the kitchen counter.  All that activity looks way to much like work for my liking. And, staying out of the fray seems prudent, besides how many cooks does one kitchen really need? I thought two were plenty. 
My wife made the mistake of asking me to store the baking results in the freezer. Now, I know that is a lot of work, two trips to the garage, and a lot of responsibility, but she should know better. After all she’s had 38 years to learn my tactics. That said that smaller container strategically placed on the top shelf where short people cannot see, it could be empty before the holidays get here.
A woman’s ability to multitask has often left me with the feeling that we males are actually the weaker sex and that kind of rankles me. Like all God given gifts a person can become over confident in using such a gift and therein lies the opportunity. Sitting across from the ladies watching them do their cooking, I figured if I could distract, the possibility of a miss measure might occur. Yip, presto baloogal, one batch of goodies did not meet the quality control standard for the freezer. There is a nice batch of caramel hay stacks (my personal favorite) that do not hold together properly waiting on the counter for me. YES! I love it when a plan comes together.

*******

It was a small group, strangers, really. Yet there was a familiarity in the air. A laugh across the room rolled her way, her memory banks stretched, that was a laugh she knew. The face it came from confused her. There was nothing to connect that laugh with the face. Wait, there was something, there in the eyes, something tugged deep pulling it out of the archives of hardened brain matter. She glanced down at his name tag, “Is that you Grayquill?”
Last weekend was my fortieth high school reunion. Thinking about how long a forty year time span was made me just plain cranky but after a bit I decided I would embrace the whole affair with exuberance. Now, I gotta tell ya, my exuberance quotient falls a bit below what others might consider high-spirited, but I went forward determined to enjoy the time with old childhood friends. Having had kids of my own and now that they have passed their high school days, I understand the maturity I felt at 17 was nothing more than a feeling and I was still a child at that time. Knowing I was not unique, I went into this affair with the appreciation that my old class mates were also just children the last time I had seen them. Throughout the evening I found myself looking for the children hidden inside my classmates that were housed by almost old bodies. Bumps and bruises of life’s pot holes were either inferred or spoken of openly by the more humble classmates. Successes both professional and relationally were varied from person to person and in the wrinkle department the forty year span had been a great deal kinder to the ladies then us men.
The evening ended, the only disappointment as normal, a highly charged emotional time kept my taste buds from taking in the wood cooked salmon prepared by an accomplished chef. There was profoundness in seeing people who were a part of shaping my personality and values. Seeing them again was better than great. To all my classmates of 1971, I appreciate each and every one of you!

*******

 
Update on Grayquill Musings the book. Nine reviews have been posted on Amazon. Okay….most of them are from good friends and family but there are a couple that are mysteries to me. Thank you! The support is appreciated.  

Bow and Arrow Adventure

I was 13 years old. My neighbor and I had both acquired bows and arrows. We built a sod house on the edge of a 12-foot embankment. It was exactly like the sod houses that were built on the prairies back in early frontier days – exactly! Ours was not an actual house because it only had walls. We never did figure out how to build roofs. Soon after building this fine sod hideaway, we poked a look-out hole through the side of one wall.

One day, we decided it would be a really great idea for one of us to shoot arrows at the lookout hole, while the other looked through the hole.
It was a game filled with excitement and danger. The sod walls were about eight inches thick, so there was no real risk of the arrow blasting its way through the sod and impaling us. Also, we were not that great of shots, so the likelihood of the arrow actually entering the lookout hole seemed highly unlikely. At this point in time, no one had explained the law of averages to me. Well regardless, we reasoned that in the unlikely event that the arrow did fly into the hole, the person looking through the hole would simply move his head to the side, allowing the arrow to fly harmlessly by.
I wonder what age God actually turns the key to engage the brain of a teenage boy. Something to think about.
This game seemed logical, yet still thick with daring competition. Who could scare the other person the most? This question added a fine flavor of intrigue to the challenge. I was sure I would outdo my neighbor by sending him leaping sideways to the ground to protect himself from my arrows.
Sure enough, one of my arrows flew as true and pretty as a swallow catching a gnat out of mid-air. The arrow sailed straight toward the lookout hole, and my neighbor did the logical thing--he moved his head aside as my arrow flew harmlessly by inches away. What an adrenalin rush! This kept the arrows flying for some time.
There came a time in the shooting, I was looking through the hole. Suddenly, my neighbor let his arrow fly and as sure as a shot that could be made the arrow came straight for the hole. I saw it coming right for the hole and I swear that arrow hypnotized me. I did not and could not move. That arrow smacked me right in the middle of the forehead knocking me down.  

Our game ended as the sound of arrow hitting skull brought my neighbor dashing over to see the blood rolling down my face into my eyes. I was lucky that the light target arrow had not the momentum, speed, or weight to penetrate the bone.

It’s memories like this that give me a strong inclination to believe in natural selection, but the theory falls completely apart because here I am still writing.

Grayquill Musings Chapter One

I have Only so Many Stories

 

Often my children chide me for retelling my stories. I always have the same response. And frankly, it is a pretty good one. “Now kids, a man has only so many stories. Some are worth only telling once, but there are those others that are worth telling over and over, so just be quiet and listen.”
My kids were shaking their heads as I retold them the story of how their mother put the hustle on me before we were even dating. They rolled their eyes – there dad goes again. Does he not remember telling us this story a million times before?
“You see, I was a catch. I mean, it has to be true, or why would she put the moves on me? That is just plain logic.” My son blurted out, “Dad! We know the story, and we are not going to believe it this time either. There is no way MOM put any moves on YOU. Look at mom, and look at you--does that make any sense at all?”
My oldest daughter pipes in, “Yeah dad, you just said be logical. Oh my goodness! And, besides mom would never do that.” Perception is reality.
Do you remember the days when your kids believed you? When they ran to meet you at the door, screaming “daddy, daddy” hugging your neck? You could tell them anything, and they would believe it. Oh yes, those were the days.
Continuing on with my story, “Excuse me? You just ask your mother. She will agree with me completely. So, do you mind if I continue?” She shook her head like I was crazy and began laughing. My son had put his head down ignoring me and began to work on his grilled cheese sandwich. My oldest daughter and son often think alike. But my sweet, wonderful youngest daughter was smiling…But her smile was different, kind of dreamy like. “Dad, tell the story! I love it!” See how sweet she is?
If truth be told, I believe all my children love hearing this story. What child does not want to hear the love story of their parents? Of course they do!
Well, I bet you are all dying to hear this story too. But the key word in “short stories” is “short.” So I just don’t have the space this time. Maybe next time; stay tuned.

Grayquill Scaring Little Childern

I read Frank Baron’s blog about turning sixty and it scared me. That number will be looking me right in the eye in just a few short years. Convicting me to get some exercise, my day started out as a banner day. I rode my bicycle to work. It is 12 miles and it takes me about an hour. It is a good work out. All was going, so well, until my front tire got caught in a crack between the pavement and the cement sidewalk. I took a sideways landing lifting more sand out of the area with my face than a street sweeper. I can attest there is a reason God allows youngsters to take those bicycle spills instead of us almost 60 year old fellas. I have a black eye, like no fight ever gave me. You would think if I needed to get a black eye, it could at least have a good story attached to it. Instead I have to say I fell off of my bicycle (how embarrassing). A lady stopped to see if I was okay, with blood dripping down my face I said only what a real man would say, “Of course I am all right would you go away now and leave me alone with my shame but thank you!.”

I have told a few brave folks who asked me what happened and I see that look in their eye that says, ‘Why is that old guy riding a bicycle in the first place?’ Ho Hmmm..... Well, I got my full fill of sympathy from all the female types at work. The male co-workers just laughed and I could swear I heard them call me an idiot under their breath. I came home that night and upon heading to bed hoped for dreams that had me doing something hero-ish (is that a word?). Sadly, that did not happen.
A full week has now passed and my eye has improved greatly. I find now, that only small children shy away in horror; whereas the first few days after my fall, even adults would avoid eye contact. During those first few days I found a great game. I would walk past a group of people being very careful to NOT look directly at them. I would either look straight ahead or away from the group, then at the last minute I would really fast look directly at them. The shame of being caught staring was priceless.  I know, I know, that was kind of mean of me, but heck, how often does this kind of opportunity come along?
A lot has happened since my last post. My son is now engaged to be married – I guess that’s the biggest and the bestest news (I know not a word but I like it).  My book sales made it into the double digits a few days ago.  My wife fell down our stairs and bruised herself real good and I am not being a very good nurse. Behind my house in the green belt area someone has set five brush fires over the past two weeks and Grayquill is out to catch an arsonist. I went fishing and caught only one very small, too embarrassing, to really talk about fish – Yes, I released the poor little fella. And lastly, I have a new office at work – Yahoo!

Goals and You

I have heard it said that the actual attaining of a goal is not the big thrill. But, the big thrill comes from the individual steps taken along the way.

Today I get to say, ‘I wrote a book and it’s in print.’ Now granted, I admit that feels pretty gosh darn good. I can also say the steps of completing each story had its own yahoo moments. There were those times I would later read one of my short stories and I would have this conversation with myself, “You wrote that? Really?  Really?” and I would be surprised. There were also more times than I can count where you my fellow blog buddies commented that one of my stories touched you or made you laugh or struck a memory or even motivated you to change something about your life – WOW! Those were grandslam type comments to read. There were times after reading one of your comments I would be like a little kid, grabbing up my lap top and rushing over to my wife, “Look, read this” and, she would comply and read one of your comments. She would smile and say, “well isn’t that nice.”

Fred Smith says, “If you cannot write it you don’t really know it.” That quote doesn’t exactly line up with my writing these stories but it has some close cousins that walked along beside that idea in the writing of these stories. During the writing of some of the stories I found deep feelings come up that made it hard to type because of the tears that flowed blurring my vision. Some of the stories touched my funny bone and I know I laughed the hardest at my foolish humanness. All in all it was more fun than I thought it would ever be and it never felt like work. But, then came the editing – that process just sucks and it for sure is a hateful process.

The book is now complete. It is a compilation of 81 stories all taken from this blog. The regular feedback supplied by your comments was always the encouragement that I needed to keep writing the next story. I guess it would be fair to say that you all were the fuel that kept the engine going and for that I thank you!

The book will be available at Amazon in a week or so. It is presently available at https://www.createspace.com/3623253

Here is a 25% discount code - 5GJTYCN9

Kindest Regards, Grayquill

Those Damn Church People

You know a church is one of those places where the folks will gossip about you, stab you in the back and for sure hurt you. Yes, it has a plethora of hypocrites and bad people. Gee - that sounds like a horrible place to be – it sure is! Think about it, you bring a whole bunch of sinners together and what do you get? Trouble. 

It’s been a while since I have been to church. Surprisingly, I am kind of missing it. I don’t really miss the preaching all that much even though sometimes it can be quite good, and I certainly don’t miss all that fake rock music they all seem to attempt to play these days. But, I do miss the people, the relationships, and folks who will accept me warts and all.

You see there is that other side of all those sinners. That’s the side, where people at church for the most part want to be better than they are. Sure they screw up. Hey, I know a secret – you do too. Sorry, it has to do with this thing called being part of the human race. Guess what – once people start going to church they do not shed off their humanness. I won’t argue that most church folk pretend to be better than they are, I know I do. But I know another secret you do that also, every time you are in the presence of another human you try to be better than you are, unless of course you’re a psychopath.

That other side of church goers that I have experienced has been pretty gosh darn good! When my house burned down and we had to go to a hotel with nothing, not even our tooth brushes. It was the church people who took my daughters shopping for new clothes the very next day on their dime. It was a church friend when I had come back to the hotel the day after the fire still wearing my dirty ash stained clothes, to my surprise had dropped off a six pack of new t-shirts and underwear just my size…who thinks of those kinds of things? Church people do! BTW- I did need some fresh undies.

It was a man from church who normally charged 200 plus dollars per hour for consulting, who met with me once a week for several months to give me advice on life and running a business and did not want a single dollar for the time he spent with me.  I guess now they call those folks life coaches. I called him my friend and life mentor.

When our children were born it was the church folk who brought us meals for several weeks, so my wife would not have to endure my cooking – now that’s considerate.

When a terrible tragedy hit my family, it was for course family, but it was also good church folk who were there to help bandage up the emotional hurts and not leave us alone, giving of their selves, time, prayers, and love. Maybe that is the big thing that makes church folks great. In spite of the back stabbing, the gossip, the hurts they will inflict…they also love. I suppose their love is far from perfect but when you’re hurting, imperfect love seems perfect.

Hmm…tomorrow’s Sunday, I think this back stabbing, gossiper, insensitive brute might put on my mask and head to church. Please don’t tell them how bad I am, you see I am afraid if they know who and what I am, they won’t love me.

Oh… yeah I almost forgot the secret….they are all just like me.

Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Mark 2:17 (New International Version)