One foot in the water
One foot on the land
One’s turning left
One’s rightward bound
Like the Roman go Janus
Or the Gemini twins
One foot’s going outward
The other’s coming in
Straddling the proverbial fence
‘Tween today and the morrow
One’s on a road to hope
One regret and sorrow
One’s going to Hades
One to Avalon
Like Humpty Dumpty
I may crash and burn
So I take a moment
To charter moon and stars
And wonder what to do
When both feet spread too far.
Ad #1. Jeff is sitting in his kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. He picks up the bowl and walks to the front door. Opens the front door, looks out. The birds are singing. The grass is green. The cocker spaniel lies on the front porch, dreaming his doggie dream. Jeff looks at his brand new car. It is a beautiful work of art. Then he sees his neighbor get in his car. The driver’s door falls off his neighbor’s Chevy. Jeff smiles, then calls out, “Hey, Bart. Doors don’t fall off my new Puchie.”
Ad #2. “Need a new car. It’s on your bucket list. Why not come on down and we can give you a killer of a deal on a hearse? We have them in seven gorgeous colors: red, yellow, blue, orange, pink, turquoise, and, of course, our most popular color, your basic black tie. If you want to go in style, this is the way to go.”
Ad #3. “Come on over to Brady’s Super Sports Store to get all your football supplies. Down here at Brady’s, we really know how to deflate a football.”
Ad#4. “Are you the kind of person who is always late for a date? We have the perfect organization for you. All our members are late for their dates. So join us at PU. That’s Procrastinators Unanimous. You’re never going to be too late for the party ever again.”
Been following this extraordinary musician for over ten years. Finally got to see her this year.
Caught Out in the Rain by Beth Hart
Over You by Beth Hart
Purple Rain by Jeff Beck & Beth Hart
Bad Woman Blues by Beth Hart
I’d Rather Go Blind by Beth Hart & Jeff Beck
Happy Father’s Day to all y’all Dads out there. Here’s one for you.
“That’s some camera, Pop.”
“That it is.”
“And you made it yourself.”
“All those spare parts we’ve been hoarding over the years.”
“You think Mom will like it?”
“I think she will.”
“So what now?”
“What do you mean what now?”
“I mean it is too heavy to take anywhere,” David said.
“Good point. Maybe I’ll just let it sit here in this one place and take photographs of the lawn. It should be interesting to see the changes.”
“So you’ll be the world famous lawn photographer.”
“That’s about it. That lawn has been bugging me since God knows when that I give it a Facebook page. Now I can.”
“Are you sure that it wants its own Facebook page.”
“It whispers it all the time. I’m out there mowing it and it’s whispering, ‘Facebook. Facebook. Facebook.’ You can’t hear it?”
“Nary a word.”
“Your mother thinks I’m crazy. Now you think I’m crazy. But I swear, as God is my witness, it’s demanding its own Facebook page.”
Why do you think that is, Pop?”
“It wants to have conversations with other lawns.”
“But there are no other lawns on Facebook.”
“Ours will be the first. but I’m here to tell you, it won’t be the last. Mark my words.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Pretty soon they’ll start a revolution. Ours will be the leader.”
“Pop, you need to see someone. You’ve been paranoid about that lawn since I was a kid. First thing you were telling me was to watch out for the lawn. It’ll stab you in the back.”
“And it will too.”
“Anyway you’ve done fantastic work, building that camera. What’s next?”
“A submachine gun. Gotta keep that lawn in its place.”
…is that I get to be all the characters. The hero who does such nice things and saves the world. (I’ve always wanted to save the world and get credit for it.) The villain. (I can be as nasty as I damned-well please. It is such a great emotional release. Helps me get rid of the garbage in my life.) The sexy femme fatale. (Gives me a chance to explore the feminine side of my personality.) The gracious sidekick. (I get to be a little bit gracious and that always makes me feel good.)
No matter the story, I am in there taking punches, giving punches and having a grand old time. When someone walks up to me and says that they have a story I should write, I try to tell them that they should come on in, the water’s fine. But they insist they have no gift. Well, I am not interested in exploring anybody else’s dirty laundry. I have plenty of my own and all filled with wonderful characters that I can be.
All I have to do is sit down at a table in an imaginary restaurant and say, “Hey.”
“Hey,” says the dark-haired lady across from me, sipping red wine.
“So you need me to find your husband?”
“Yes, but don’t make it too fast. I’m having too much fun with his money for now. Sometime in a month or so will be just fine with me.”
“You didn’t murder your husband, did you? I’d hate to go off on a wild goose chase.” Of course, if I know this kind of story, I will be on a wild goose chase before you can toss a coin and call it heads or tails.
“No, I didn’t. I would have liked to. But he’s worth more to me alive than dead.”
And there you have it. I have quickly become two characters in a poorly lit restaurant, discussing murder. Where would I have that opportunity otherwise?
Uncle Bardie's Stories & Such 