QUIET

They found place their new home tucked in the Uinta canyon, remote enough to endure two separate dirt roads, and dizzying inclines. The house was buried behind trees, hidden from the road and the peering eyes of the neighbors. It was paradise.

Quiet. A sanctuary from the world.

They could not fathom their good fortune. Sure, the house had some problems, okay, a lot of problems, but the tradeoffs were worth it: views of only nature from every angle, hues of greens that you only find on an artist’s palate and mountains that framed all sides of the view.

On the first night, she stood out on their deck, the blackness of the sky only interrupted by endless stars. The stillness and quiet resembled a sensory deprivation chamber. She smiled to herself. Yep, this’ll do.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. Early the next morning, she was greeted a neighbor’s guitar riffs of Free Bird loud enough to sound like she was front row at a live Lynyrd Skynyrd concert. Soon the melee was joined by a neighbor’s cow, who, recently parted from her calf, lamented her plight with the bellowings and mooings only dreamed of by Hollywood sound team. Not to be left out, another neighbor brought up his hounds for hunting season and they barked and whined day and night like they were on the trail of their prey they hunted. Not to be outdone, the magpies squawked in the trees, the wild turkeys gobbled and warbled on all sides of the house, the woodpeckers took a liking to her metal roof, and the neighbor’s rooster was the first to announce the dawn…right outside their bedroom window. Their ornithological offerings were abrasive enough to rival the Keenan’s happy birthday tributes. The final blow?  A lucky young boy above them was given a minibike (clearly missing a muffler) for his birthday and he tested it out along the mountain roads that canvassed her home. The cacophony bounced off the walls of the mountains with her house absorbing them like a sponge.

Something had to be done, and of course, she never shied away from a challenge.

With a little homework, she discovered that the town code requires that hunting dogs must be registered and tagged. The owner was served by the city with a hefty fine and an order to move the dogs.

A breech in the fence between the cow’s pen and her calf’s pen mysteriously appeared overnight and the neighbor got up to find the two happily (and quietly grazing together).

The new minibike owner woke to fine his birthday gift missing and a hollered response from his father, “I told you to put it away at night, you knucklehead. Now it’s been stolen.” The bike happily (and quietly) rested six feet underground in her backyard.

The chickens were boiling in her pot, the turkeys were dealt with a BB gun’s steadied aim and the magpies and woodpeckers greedily gobbled up a “special” bird seed she concocted.

She smiled as she climbed into bed, reveling in her genius at her pathway to silence she so longed for.  Not even the sound of a cricket could be heard. She mounded her pillow into just the right position, lay back, sighed deeply….

SNORT! ROAR! RATTLE! SNUFFLE! WEEZE! WHIZZLE! WOOSH!

She looked over at her husband sleeping peacefully. She eyed the extra pillow next to her and set upon a new plan.

Cupid Takes a Holiday

Cupid sighed wearily as he lowered his pink dimpled behind onto his heart-shaped chair. 

“Love, love, love. I am sick of it,” he thought. “I’m tired of romance, swooning, tears of joy, looks of longing, sloppy kisses, lustful glances.” 

He eyes trailed to his quiver of arrows that he had carelessly dropped on the vermillion rug next to his chair. In a momentary lapse of judgment, he jumped up, his little wing fluttering furiously and snapped the arrows in half over his pudgy knee. “Take that, love forlorn! Take that, romantic wannabes! Take that, eyelash batters! It’s gonna be a long drought.” He laughed, gleefully rubbing his baby-soft hands together. He hoisted up his chunky legs onto his delicate, petal- colored ottoman and turned on Terminator 2, Uncut.

Meanwhile….

Romance ceased – not tapered off but stopped — dead cold. Love was gone.

First kisses became nostalgic memories. Hands no longer intertwined.  “Snuggling” was removed from the dictionary, not to mention the bedroom. Lips never puckered. Couples bickered like never before. Weddings plans were cancelled worldwide. Anniversaries passed by uncelebrated. Romantic getaways were replaced by marriage boot camp, perfume/cologne sales stunk, diamonds were worth pennies, unharvested flowers grew wild. No one cared about breath mints or wore makeup. Poets no longer waxed poetic, romantic novels sat untouched in undisturbed rows on shelves. Heart-shaped boxes of chocolates were replaced by huge bags of candy consumed by models who no longer cared about their runway weight. King-sized beds were replaced by twins…in separate rooms. RomComs were replaced by Coms. Gun sales increased; gum sales decreased. Kids weren’t leaving home to get married. Marriage counselors were so over worked, they started charging $1,000 an hour. (Go, Bethany!) Birthrates dropped to almost zero. The world was nearly at a standstill — all because of one little cherub and his hastily snapped, pheromone-dipped arrows.  

When Cupid finally emerged from his year long, self-imposed hiatus, he was astounded at what he found. Love no longer made the world go round.  The chaos! The madness! The sorrow!

What had he done? He was just looking for a little respite –a little time off. Who knew that he alone would shut down the world? He never realized how important he was, how vital to the world functioning. Energized and inspired, he puffed up his chest, repaired his arrows, and set off to find Katherine Keenan. It was time for a little romance to kick in and he might as well start with the toughest nut to crack.

Nursery Rhymes

Humpty Trumpty wanted a wall,

but the folks down south weren’t heeding the call.

All his big threats and all his big lies

Couldn’t force Mexico to ever comply.

Trump and Pence went up the hill to fetch the hearts of many.

Wackos came from down the drain and terrorized aplenty.

There once was a man from Maralago

Who wants to rule the world, then so

He screamed, “It’s fake news!” as he spouted his views.

to his fans from Dallas to Fargo.

Donald’s VP’s a little man

whose hair was white as snow

Pence figured out that Don’s a lout.

And thought, “This job, it blows.”

Bye Bye Donald, time for you to go.

No Sir, No sir, I have more to show.

I blame the Chinese, the stinking liberal press,

The Russians and the black lives – they ruined my success.

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Of Elves and Envy

While this was by no means my favorite childhood Christmas, it was certainly the most impactful, memorable, and life-altering. It fact, it was rather awful.

I was about 14 and my sister, Kathy, was 15. We didn’t get along well for a period of time. We competed at everything: grades, sports, boys, talents, you name it. Clearly, she was clearly always at fault. Ok, ok. Maybe I had a hand it it, too. We were both petty and selfish (especially her) and always making sure things were equal and fair.

For that Christmas, we were both given watches. She loved hers; so did I. Hers, I mean. I LOVED hers. Mine was clunky and ugly and her was modern and stylish. We also both got bikes and her was much nicer than mine. I cried foul. By the way, I cried foul to parents who spent the following six months after Christmas trying to pay off all the presents that I was so vehemently screaming about. That didn’t matter to me, however, all I could see was that Kathy got better stuff than I. I sulked, I complained, I cried, I insulted. I was good at that. Mainly, I tried to needle Kathy for a trade to no avail. It turned into a huge family fight and I single handedly ruined Christmas that year. For everyone. You’re welcome, family.

The good news is that I learned a great lesson from it, one that has stayed with me to this day and has influenced my parenting. After I cooled down and matured a lot, I realized that life isn’t fair. It wasn’t meant to be, nor will it ever be. I am certain (now) that my parents didn’t favor Kathy over me, they just bought what they thought each girl would want. When I became a parent, I was determined to teach my kids that life isn’t always even and”what’s mine is yours.” Sometimes one kid got something for no reason at all, and no else did. It just happened to work that way. I never ran out to get 4 other gifts to make sure everyone had something. A birthday for one of the boys was a birthday for all the boys. Our kids aren’t petty or selfish. I am not sure this is the only reason (thought I would love to take all the credit), but it certainly helped.

I was a brat, but that Christmas changed my life. By the way, my sister is still selfish…….jk..

I

Into Every Life, a Little Rain Must Fall

Douglas was so excited, though that’s not really saying much. Douglas was usually excited. With a pretty severe case of ADHD, Douglas was what you would call high strung. He was “that” kid who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, respect anyone personal space, or stay quiet. Though he was clever, imaginative, and funny, few gave him a chance to prove it. He was always in trouble at school, home, or even on the playground. 

None of that mattered to Douglass most days and even less today because Friday night he would be making his first stage appearance in the annual third grade play. He was going to play a raindrop  and be was determined to be the best and wettest ever. 

The teacher felt it best to give him small, manufactured role towards the back corner of the stage since there  was less chance of something going wrong. His job was to sway back and forth under a large storm cloud. He had no lines, little movement, and no spotlight. Easy Peasy. 

Well, Douglas, of course, wasn’t having it. 

Finally the big night arrived. The stage was beautifully set by the 3rd grades mom attempting to outdo each other making sure that the decorations, costumes and props were top shelf. The audience was filled to overflow with families and their cameras aimed at the stage.

On the night of the big play, Douglas had comfortably stashed his water bottle under his raindrop costume. When the lightening sounded, (his cue) he jumped up and ran from student to student as he filled his mouth from his water bottle and sprayed everyone in his path. Kids were slipping on the water, crying because their makeup was running from the spew, and screaming something about cooties. Douglas knew he had everyone’s attention and he was in his element. 

 During the intermission Mrs. Jacobs took Douglas aside. “I told you to stay beneath the clouds.”  

“But I’m a raindrop. Raindrops are wet. See?” He said as he momentarily lowered his face to the neckline of his costume, gathered his ammo, and spewed water on her face. Mrs. Jacobs wiped her face wearily. She confiscated his water bottle and sent him back for the second half. Two more years to retirement, two more years to retirement, she chanted to no one in particular. 

Douglas ran back to the stage and quickly grabbed the second water bottle and straw combo he had stashed behind the back curtain. Act two was starting and the show must go on.

A Grim Tale

It was one of those unsettling dreams she often has, like being unprepared for a test, going to prom in her underwear, or being in a creepy home without any exits. But this dream, this one in particular, always left her in a cold sweat. In it, she is usually walking in some public place when a very grave but gentlemanly man approaches her and asks for the time. As she always does, she glances at her watch, but invariably it is gone and she is unable to tell him. He always looks bemused, though he thanks her and moves along.  Although there is no evidence to substantiate it, she becomes uneasy and is grateful to be rid of his company. At this point, she always wakes up feeling very unsettled. She never knows why because he is a kindly man and asks only innocuous questions, but her disquiet increases until she awakens. She hated these dreams and wondered why they were always fear or anxiety based. Too much stress, she told herself. I have got to take a yoga class. 

Today started as any normal day. It was warm and sunny, so she decided to take her daughter to the park. As her daughter ran towards the other kids on the playground, Carol settled on a bench. As she retrieved her cell phone, once again the gentleman appeared.

“Excuse me, dear lady, but do you have the time?”  She glanced at her watch as she always does in her dream.

“10:23 a.m.,” she responds, suddenly discomfited that she was wearing her watch. She glanced at her towards the part as her daughter sailed down the slide with laughter rippling behind her.

“Hotter than usual today, isn’t it?” he queries.

“Yes, it is,” she responds, wishing he would move on.

“Your daughter is lovely. I would like to meet her sometime, though I am quite certain I will.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that line, but it left her terribly uneasy. She stood and prepared to call to her daughter when, in a singular movement, the man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gleaming scythe. In one fluid motion, he cut the woman down while those around them were completely oblivious. “I’m so sorry; this is the end of the line.” He straightened slowly, returned his weapon to his coat and proceeded to walk towards Carol’s daughter to introduce himself and, quite possibly, ask her the time.

Surely Sherlock Shouldn’t Steal

“What’s done is done. She’s as good as dead.”

“Well, of course she is, there’s a knife in her head.

But what I’m asking; what I want to now know

Is who delivered the cruel fatal blow?

The fact she is dead is not really the issue

Now, now, Mrs. Smith, here, please, use my tissue.”

Wipe those tears, the crocodile kind.

Don’t think your displays take you off of my mind.

He eyed the group and the guilt on each face

They all wanted her dead, it was such a disgrace.

Her millions of dollars is what brought them here.

Not love nor loyalty, nor familial cheer.

Their greed, it oozed from every pore.

And if there’s one thing he knew, what he learned to abhor.

Was avarice and… their phony pretense.

Pretending to mourn. They must thing I’m dense.

The millions in cash was stashed in large cases.

Each member watched it with lust on their faces.

That moment, he broke, he didn’t know why.

But he took out his gun and watched them all die.

He carried the cash in several loads.

And left them dead as he entered the road.

No one would know, no mystery to crack.

Because the greatest of detectives would never be back.

Mother Nature

For the first time ever, their mom said “yes” when the sound of the ice cream truck hit their ears. They rushed to the end of the driveway, a handful of warm coins gripped tightly in their hands. With so many options and a single opportunity, what to choose?  They each selected vanilla ice cream on a stick dipped in chocolate, caramel, and nuts.  As they turn toward their home, faces stretched to their limits with grins, a gust of extremely hot and grittu wind whipped around the brothers in a frenzied whirlwind. When it finally abated, the boys looked down at a river of melted ice cream running down their fists and onto the hot pavement below. Dismayed, they were left holding empty sticks as the ice cream truck music faded down the street.

The wedding had been planned for 18 months. It was to be the event of the season in the Hamptons. No detail was overlooked and no dollar left unspent. The rows of guest chairs were draped with the finest silks and fresh blossoms. The tables were laid with the highest quality silver, crystal and china for the 250 guests who would be delighted with the menu featuring slow roasted salmon with fennel, citrus and chiles and beef filets so tender, one could cut it with a butter knife. The chef had been flown in from France a no small expense. The band was playing lightly in tandem with the waves of the Atlantic caressing the shores. It was a perfect setting, and everything was in place. As the bride began to walk down the isle with her proud father, guests standing, the groom at the end of the aisle waiting in joy and anticipation, a dark, angry  storm cloud from nowhere settled over the party and released the wrath of hell. A deluge of water poured on the guests, detaching the flowers and silk, pouring over the $5,000 cake, soaking the band, and leaving the bride, groom, and their guests in a bewildered, sodden mess.

The Miller had just finished the home of their dreams.  A 10,000 square foot mansion on 5 wooded acres in the Idaho mountains.  It had been furnished meticulously by the finest designers and architects.  It was the culmination of all their dreams and years of planning. During the first night in the resplendent home, lightning struck directly in the home igniting a burst of flames that had engulfed the home in 30 minutes before the family could escape and the firefighters could arrive.

After the cruel crack that Father Time had made at her at a recent party, Mother Nature was in a wicked state mind. She had a marvelous time ruining everything and she was just getting started. The calendar clicked to the year 2020 as she rubbed her hands together in anticipation. It was going to be a great year.

Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

Ellen was the librarian you went to when you wanted to know anything about anything. Most patrons were convinced she lived there, which wasn’t entirely wrong.

She loved the tall stacks of books, the familiar scent of paper and leather, the quiet echo of whispers and footsteps. When she wasn’t working, she even spent most of her free time in her favorite chair in the corner on the third floor wrapped tightly in her familiar cocoon of words. It was safe. It was known. It was her life.

She had defied the gates of Mordor with Aragorn and stood next to Guy Montag as the flames of the burning books scorched their faces.  She shared a squalid cell with a desperate Jean Val Jean and tasted the grit that kicked up from the dirt roads as she accompanied the Joad family on their journey for a better life in California.

 Through her beloved books, she had experienced all the world had to offer. But not really. In her quiet moment — in her honest moments — she longed for more. She had never experienced love – never be held tenderly or gazed at longingly. She only read about being the object of a man’s desire. As she walked through the reading areas and shushed the young couples who were huddled as one, she would turn away, her face reddening and her heart longing. She had read all the romantic classics, but longed to be the heroine.

She wanted Rhett Butler to grab her by the arms the way he held Scarlett, and say, “You should be kissed and kissed often by someone who knows how.” She memorized the words Mr. Darcy reluctantly confessed to Miss Elizabeth, “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” She whispered the words aloud with Catherine when she described her connection to Heathcliff, ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

She longed to experience love, but alas, after 52 years it continued to elude her, as it always had. At the end of her shift, she settled down in her favorite chair on the third floor. Solitude is an old friend of mine, she mused sadly as she opened her tagged page in Anna Karenina. “He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

The languid stillness of the room was only broken by her occasional resigned sighs.

Thanks A Lot, Nemo!

As the young boy exited the room, finally giving his fish a little peace, the goldfish turned to the other goldfish in the aquarium and cried:

It’s adventure I seek! The call of the wild.

Not circling this glass entertaining a child.

The oceans I crave, the currents and squalls.

To dine on the coral and dodge the close calls.

Converse with the whales and swim with the sharks

Watch octopi hunt, leaving inky black marks.

Meet marlins and blowfish, tuna and cod,

Clownfish and turtles, dolphins and scrod.

Caribbean to Arctic, I long to enjoy

Away from the poking of this naughty boy.

A life in this jar fills me with such dread

Wait! I saw Nemo. I can “play” dead.

The little boy saw has prized goldfish floating lifelessly on top of the water. Without a second thought, he scooped it up, threw it in the sink and turned on the disposal.