Day 259 CJSM-book III

Day 259

 

 

“Roast pigs and skewer penguins!”

 

 

I appreciate “beauty” and I adore and hold sacred “intelligence”! Brains! & Beauty! Wow!

Lady Candice and our girls, Z. Tyler and the “little”-girls are blessed with B & B!

In my 60^th year, all the shenanigans of six decades came roaring down the tracks to call my insane bet that I wouldn’t live long enough to regret my lifestyle. Hells! Bells! Like I told the astute heart doctor, “Doc! If I had known I was gonna live this long, I’d have taken better care of this old body!” He was “un-amused”---but, he plied his trade and did a good job…I’m still here!

Well! (And, for 60 long years I was---Well!) When it hit me, it was like an avalanche.

I might have died; I was way too sick for that. A lot of people prayed, but, I lived, anyway!?

One year and eight months of my life is lost somewhere in the “Twilight” zone---no memory!

 During that very 1^st year of health-torment, I spent nearly all my time sleeping; spent five stays in the hospital, too. I was “supposed” to be babysitting our precious little girls, Lauren, age 5, and Anna Marie and Lexi, each age 3. I laid on the sofa at daughter Becky’s house and slept.

One fine afternoon I awoke to a “noise” that did not fit my dreamless snooze-pattern; opening my tired eyes, I spied Anna and Lexi standing over my head looking down at me and laughing. Anna Marie held a stuffed penguin and Lexi hugged a big, pink pig; treasured toys.

Always quick-of-wit and embarrassed that the little darlings had caught me sleeping in the middle of the day, I queried, “Where are you girls going?” Just “something” to say, I reckon.

Without missing a snicker, our little Miss Anna Marie giggled, “To Schmazieland!”

Laughing through my pain-torment, I said, “And---Just what do they do in ‘Schmazieland’?”

“They skewer penguins and roast pigs!” Giggled Miss Annie. And, off they ran.

I lay there contemplating their “genius”. “Schmazieland!” Really? “Skewer” & “Roast”!?

Wow! Now I’ll concede that most “adults” might know the word “Roast”; some might understand “Skewer” and---absolutely nobody would know…where Schmazieland might be!

They say kids learn 140,000 words for their vocabulary-lexicon in the first five years; these beautiful-geniuses outscored that tally by leaps and bounds. So smart! So adorable! Beautiful!

I never forgot that incident, in spite of my illness. Love heals all ailments! I reckon that’s true!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Beauty & Brains” Memories!

 

 

 

Day 258 CJSM-book III

Day 258

 

 

Playing Cowboys & Indians in the house.

Dad chases Beth into Becky’s room; Beth

slams the door and Dad leaves a gash from

the rifle-barrel in the front of the door.

 

 

Poor Nanny! She had two children but three kids to deal with---She really is a…Saint!

To say we “rough-housed” a bit might be the “under”-statement of the century. Wild!

That door incident was actually not my fault (nothing ever was); Candy should not have allowed us to play snowball fight and cowboys & Indians in the house. What’s wrong with her?

There just has to be an adult present when the “kids” get rambunctious to the point of destruction; Beth never should have slammed that door into my rifle barrel. Kids!?

No fowl! No blood! No fault! That’s how I see it all. Jeez! Can’t a guy have a little fun? At least, every once in a while---like, every day…all the time! Jeez! I’m not some delinquent!?

And, the kids survived; Lady Candice made it through. Hell! Even I managed! Somehow!?

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Wild-times” Memories!

Day 257 CJSM-book III

Day 257

 

 

Alexander & Rachel wed May 7, 1999 in Germany

 

 

Each of our girls enjoyed elegant weddings; they and Lady Candice were in charge!

Beth married at the church on Tulip Grove Mansion plantation of Rachel Jackson in Nashville, Tennessee, adjacent to President Andrew Jackson’s beloved Hermitage; we celebrated with a reception at the Opryland Hotel. All-in-all: Quite the social-event! Bravo!

Daughter Rachel wed in Aussin, Germany in the company of her German-husband’s family members and Becky’s immediate relatives who sojourned to Europe for the occasion.

They, too, were married in a church with the reception at a “fancy” hotel in the area. Even little Z. Tyler got to attend that extravaganza; reckon he broke a few “frauline” hearts, yonder.

So very proud of this family; they make life “elegantly”-delicious! Good job! You all!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Danka schoen!” Memories!

Day 256 CJSM-book III

Day 256

 

 

Jake’s Malt Shop in Columbia

 

 

The 70’s Happy Days”-Ron Howard T.V. show had “Arnold’s; we had Jake’s!

All the kids hung-out at Jake’s. A quart chocolate malt so thick it could not be sucked through a straw made with real milk, malt, ice cream and an egg cost 15¢ and a hamburger on a bun, 20!

Wow! Long stick pretzels were 2¢. Two of those “giants” slowly dipped into the huge malt and carefully chewed lasted better than a half hour.

Jakie closed his establishment at 9:00 p.m.; long about 8:30 each night several adults would visit the store for a half-gallon of ice cream offered in several delicious flavors. These “treats” were frozen in storage. As orders were placed, Jake would lay two sheet of newspaper on the counter top, lay the cylindrical ½ gallon frozen ice cream containers on a triangular edge and roll the purchase across the news print to the opposite corner and then tightly “fold” the ends to secure and insulate the delicacy; ole Dad brought home quite the “treat” to his kids those nights.

Old grey-headed Jakie was a soft-spoken man; his wife, sporting a matching stylish- coiffeur, worked side-by-side with him in the ice cream parlor; each was pleasant and could not have been better cast to their “character” if it had been choreographed by some elite Hollywood-type.

“What’s yours? Girlie?” Prompted “Uncle”-Jakie when a young lady approached the counter.

The venue for “Jake’s Malt Shop” had been a grocery store prior to his acquisition. The store front sported two huge plate glass windows on either side of the entry door. On the outside these were set-back into an alcove with the bottom ledge a foot wide and 30-inches off the sidewalk; these “meeting”-places were perfect for sitting in groups to hatch and plan adventure.

I sure enough spent my fair share of time “loafing” with the boys-of-daring-do at Jakies!

My childhood friend, Bobby, spent about as much time there as did I, along with others.

They took “innocent” sports-minded Bobby, dressed him in a uniform, slapped a rifle in his “young” hands and sent him to his grave half way around the world. Sure enough spoiled my plans to meet him there, at Jake’s again, some future day. Reckon, sure enough, he’d agree with that assessment---and, add…ruined Mine, too!

And---my opinion on that sore subject…it sure enough wasn’t worth it! R.I.P.---Bobby!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “bitter”-Sweet “malts & old friends” Memories!

Music initiates Creative-relevancies & Day 255 CJSM-book III

 

Music initiates Creative-relevancies

 

Funny how music initiates Creativity-insertions

Favorite Tennessee Waltz inspires conversions

 

I was waltzing with my Darling to the Tennessee Waltz

when an old friend I happened to see;

 I introduced him to my Loved-one and while they were

waltzing, my friend stole my Sweetheart from me…

 

In that enigmatic-civility flowed “dangerous”-fate

Un-anticipated consequence born of Love-hate

 

Choices determine conclusion, even those un-seen

Reactions determine outcome hoped “sparkling”-clean

 

In that tiny space between the ears of fellow-man kind

Challenges to Truth!-presented often tempted-find

 

Process events with ever deliberate consternation-skill

Choose wisely-Cool in Truth-conclusion stone grist-mill

 

One day too soon will come thy honor Judgment-Day

Alone in light-of-Life chosen hear eternal Reward-Say

 

Careful in: Thought! Word! Deed! Espoused bellicose

“Big-wheel”? Be Cool! Or might reap “hell-dose”!

 

Keep first in humble mind simple mind-retort be

“None of my business is what others think of me!”

 

And, in the challenge, if the find so, caution exercise

To guarantee a smile: Speak Truth! Voice “No”-lies

 

And, if they “good-intent” turns vile-result in rabid-bite

Wave “Sweet Good-bye!” To lost lovely-vision sight

 

Hum-soft melody sweet-tune though vile seem sad-result

Capricious whisper-wind echoes Truth! Absent---Fault!

 

I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz

Now I know just how much I have lost

Yes! I lost my little Darling the night

They were playing the beautiful

Tennessee Waltz.

 

 

 

Plus:

 

 

 

 

Day 255

 

 

Grandma?---NO! It’s Granny?...Oh! No! It’s Nanny!

Grandpa?---No! It’s Granddaddy?...Oh! No! It’s Bapa!

 

 

I was in my 39^th year when we learned that our title would soon be: Grandparents!

Lady Candice & I were overjoyed; it was the highlight of that year and many more.

When “our” boy made his appearance, we needed “names” for him to address us by.

Candy’s seemed easy enough: Granny! A reflection of my own dear, sweet Granny.

I considered Grandfather, but found that moniker too formal; Z. Tyler solved it.

His Mom, our daughter, Catherine Elizabeth (Beth) often called me “Pappa”; to a little boy’s curious ears, that endearing salutation registered as “Bapa”! What a delicious choice! I’m proud!

That little guy and I became fast-friends, right-off. He became my “shadow-buddy for sixteen years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We “grew-up” together---well, at least he did!

By the time he was six years old, we had been to the Bahamas and crossed the U.S.A. twice.

When he was in school (elementary & High School) I would go get him after noon lunch and take him to play golf; I let him drive the cart. (By age 12, Z. Tyler had learned to drive my red Ranger pick-up truck! Hmm!) We went to Cardinal baseball afternoon games, too. Our time in Oregon found us playing ball in the street and often going to the driving range.

Z. didn’t care what we did, he joined in and made any event a wonderful adventure.

At the antiques malls, he would take off and find “Depression”-glass for his Nanny and marbles for his “Bapa”; with mission-accomplished, he went off to search out hockey cards. That boy must have a card collection of tens of thousands of (mostly) hockey and baseball cards.

Each month he got a magazine called “Beckett’s” with hockey card values in it. He absolutely loved Mario Lemieux. That players “rookie” card soared in value and Z.Tyler wanted one.

We visited the “Dugout” sports-card store one fine day; I bought him that card for $400.00!

There were two versions of the rookie card---I got the “cheap” one…at the “premium” price!

On the way home, Z. sat in the back seat looking at his new prize and his “Beckett”-book.

Suddenly, he said, “Boy! Did you ever get taken!”

The clerk who was the Dugout owner’s wife had “inadvertently” sold me the wrong card!?

That night, we took it back and talked to the owner; he gave us our money back.

Hmm! Live and learn! God! I sure hope so!

You know, I have to ask the Z-man if he ever got that rookie card---and…what it’s worth!

 

Love you more than life! Z. Tyler!

Always have! Always will!

The same for Lexi, Lauren and Anna Marie!

 

Love, forever & always! Nanny & Bapa

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “If I grow up, I wanna be just like you!” Memories!

 



Eternal-Time... & Day 254 CJSM-book III

 

Eternal-Time!?---too long…for Death!

 

Once, perhaps, I came to grow a brain some-capable

enough to cipher “right” from “wrong”, not that such

intelligence might have even required a development

as life’s very first-breath precluded any easy-claimed

denial of “Good”, by very virtue of sacred Life-blessing.

 

And, so, like thee---and, thee…I struggled on. And, up?

 

Along the trace of time through space came many curious

promptings, many of which served to “elucidate” a fellow

with satiating answers-of-explanations while myriad others

served to raise cogent-inquiries requiring discovery, not

only of the circumstance, but, more importantly---of…self!

 

In that advancing maze of cohesive-“understanding” fractured

by interrupters of electrical synapses firing simultaneously in

a curiosity-of-developing knowledge---voila…Personality!

 

Blend, me-friend, an insatiable curiosity with quick-wit and

an absolutely unrestrained sense-of-humor---and…Hmm!?

 

To wit: A Rebel! Rascal! Rogue! Rapscallion! Irreverent!?

 

Mostly? Perhaps? Hopefully---Loveable!...Maybe? Dangerous!?

 

One day too soon---a final breath shall come, and, gone…Time!

 

Pray I! No challenge left unexplored in Light-of-Truth defined.

 

And,

 

I squeezed each adventure-drop from me space-event. Sans regret.

 

Thus: my determined-conclusion:

 

Eternal-Time!?---too long…for Death!

 

In reverent reflection, accept me heartfelt-blessing for thee:

 

I pray thee the satiating-Peace! Of Truth!-embraced---forever!

 

Amen!

 

  

Plus:

 

 

 

 

Day 254

 

 

P.O. Box 52, Maeystown, Illinois

(our 200+ acre farm)

 

 

To conclude Simple-humble I among the ranks of “Socialism” would be an error-Grave!

Faith! Family! Freedom! Satiates my Independent-Individual spirit Praise! Honor! Glory!-high! And, one day too soon, each shall surely know which chosen-Truth! shall see pure Light!

We “sold” our treasured ten-acre “estate” with swimming pool and barn and view-spectacular complete with a domicile approaching “mansion”-asperations (if one dared dream not “too” big).

That hellion “Gypsy”-blood might one day succumb to a wooden stake through the black-heart of evil-doom or a “silver”-bullet to quell, at last, the vampire curse-like penchant to be “on-the-prod” for tomorrow’s-dream resulting a tumbleweed untethered in a Texas-twister! Perhaps?

But, all that self-resulted private “resort” wagered upon the giant “roulette”-wheel-of-life for just-one-more-childish-dream visited upon this shallow mind coerced to risk the “ultimate” of any success?---He must certainly be Insane-mad…Why? Indeed? Can he not find truth in lies!?

And---so, I did the evil deed once more, but, not final…and up and sold the treasure-measure.

All that terrible risk on a whim, an un-perceived speculative-conclusion---and…for what?

A piece of land, nice, perhaps, in volume-size, 214-acres, another “new” house, a pool; we already had: horses, cattle, farm animals and pets, privacy? An admission: a confession: No!

Not for any one of these demanded intents-of-purpose! No! None! For what? Then? Insanity!?

Perhaps to the casual observer donning the very “latest”-fashion trend? Maybe? How man times the oversized closet(s) stuffed for want of “new”-seasons latest atrocity? I fear to count!

An answer to the delirious query of: What? Of: Why? Of: How? To wit: Solitude!

To exercise-stretch the liberty of an Independent-Individual trekking insanely-forward to favor: Faith! Family! Freedom! in intent-of-purpose toward: Praise! Honor! Glory! In Prayer!

Perhaps, it simply is not the having---as is the very fantasy-of-Peace…by actually doing!?

And, while I labored intently to finish construction on that “new”-dream, I planned the next!

I cannot reach toward collective evil-Socialism---I shall forever embrace…sacred Freedom!

And, if one refuses share my “fun”---I shall harbor no ill-will…I wish thee “well” as I enjoy!

You are most “Welcome!” to board my train or stay “safely” on the platform to observe---you are pointedly not invited to try to barricade my tracks by getting in the way…you won’t like it!

Please! Choose to come aboard and join the party. Partake! Enjoy the journey! Have “fun”!

Now, imbued with explanation of “insanity”-lived, to the title of this piece and---P.O. Box 52!

Our little “country” Post Office at Maeystown had a bank of boxes with brass doors secured with individual keys and numbered from top to bottom beginning with “!” in the upper left hand top corner of the display on down the column to the bottom, then continuing with consecutive numbers down the second column, and so on. Simple enough. Worked good for about four years.

We were assigned box-number “52”, fourth column from the left, top row of boxes. Handy!

Then, one fine morning we show up to retrieve our “precious”-mail only to encounter confusion: A “new” district manager had been by to see the postal-operation in our tiny town and just “had” to “improve” our post office (justifying his J – O - B) and impressing his superior with his “talent” by reassigning the numbers from vertical translation to horizontal Wow!

We “lucked” out! Box “52” had been reassigned---P.O Box 4!...Holy cow! Genius! Hmm!

Our Box had not moved, it remained in the very same spot, we didn’t even need a new key!

Nobody actually required “new” keys; all that changed was the number on the same old box.

Still, the “government” issued all new keys; we had to turn in the old ones! Hmm!

Oh! What the hell! It’s free money to waste; belongs to the gov-ment!? (Which fiction has no money---save, of course…all that they “legally” confiscate from U.S.!)

When “curious”-me inquired of the Post-mistress, “Why did they change the numbering system?” She shrugged and rolled her eyes. Yeah1 She was part of the bureaucracy? Hmm!?

Now? Did simple-humble I think we needed eleven layers of clowns to get my mail to me?

I just shrugged like the postal employee and said, “Government (in)-efficiency!”

Everybody had to change their return addresses, I guess, save Box No. 1, and maybe others.

Nobody got hurt. Nobody died. Some bureaucrat got to “look” genius!? So what?

 

Yeah! There it is, in a “nut”-shell! Who cares?

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Let’s all government count, now: 7, 52 (or-4)” Memories!

 

 

 



Welcome & Anarchy's Lament & Day 253 CJSM-book III

 

Check out my books:

visit: Amazon books; search: Carl Schuler

 

Creed of the Mountain Man

 

Station Master

 

Christmas Treasures

 

Horizon Dawn

 

Syncopated Cadence (poetry)

 

Christmas Always (poetry)

 

...And Justice for All

 

Golden Anniversary

 

Enjoy!

 

 

 

Plus:

 

 

 

Anarchy’s-Lament

 

Faux-educated embracing lies in the left-liberal zones

Found favor in collective choreographed chant-moans

Un-seeing dead-eyes wide-open bleached-white bones

Where? Oh Sister! Brother! Hear thee? Vacant-tones?

 

Stiff-breeze sings across New Jersey “Un-safe” beach

Alabaster-skeleton Atlantic-waves now cadence-teach

Cannon-fodder “faithful”-hands abject bone-fingers reach

Political-neutral shore-birds absent peck in terror-screech

 

Once lithe and even “lovely” draped taught white skin

“Evil” elite in-justice abhorred to any “tan”-colored skin

Destroy the Golden-goose with hate if “Good” just begin

No challenge self-serving fiat be destructive unforgiving-sin

 

Once, not so very long ago when I enjoyed sweet life-young

Stars danced my eyes cajoled naïve-mind black-evil ugly sung

On sacred “good” an “evil”-lie handy be so easy reckless hung

“Just to belong” even if it requires death-early by venom-stung

 

And, now, though life be stolen---I confess-transgress…complicit

Youth-lost but idea-triumph what glory-possible since I miss it?

Why shines yon golden sun? To warm these cold-bones to kiss it?

Where be me cohorts? Making plans? Me name? Silent they list it?

 

And, for dear-price of sacred-life to score a point they may celebrate

And, blame total-fault on enemy through deplorable-lie exaggerate

And, hide all Truth in black-evil cauldron-wicked brew exacerbate

And, slog through blood of fallen expendables in further congregate

 

But, these bones shall rest un-settled inundated by moon-pull high tide

But, on the ’morrow dawn their so-sad tale the rising sun refuse to hide

But, in my private diary mailed true-words reveal the time-space I lied

But, shall even one believe, most-nearly all, triumphant-“Truth” spied

 

For---me…a day too late!? Justice?---Perhaps…as precious-time has spent

On faux “compassion-bluff” a vacant-errand I was pernicious-evil ill-sent

What “good”? For false-embrace of absent-Love! Vacuous Lady or Gent

Who” Un-buried me “value-virtue” worth---me?...sing: Anarchy’s-lament!

 

Only Truth! Shall set thee---Free!...And, only Truth! can free evil chains!

 

Amen!

 

 

Plus:

 

 

 

Day 253

 

 

1995-Becky graduates from SIUE with a

Civil Engineering degree. Dad is still waiting

For a ride on her…train!?

 

 

Sure enough! The family has “brains”!

Lady Candice is very intelligent; her children and grandchildren garnered her “brains”.

I am most proud of each of them and their myriad individual and collective accomplishments.

Catherine Elizabeth sports a law-degree; Rachel Rebecca holds a Civil Engineering diploma.

Now, as stated, I am extremely proud of each, but, I don’t ever want to utilize the results of the effort it took to graduate Law School (at least, on the criminal side (I ain’t been caught---yet!)) but, that Rachel---I’m still waiting for a “train”-ride!

When she graduated with that “mathematical-genius” degree, I threatened to buy her one of those blue and white thin-striped train engineer caps; one of her friends beat me to it. Damn!

Can somebody sing “Chattanooga Shoe-shine boy!”? Just to salve my tender wounds?

 

Sure enough sounds like a “Clickety-clack!” sorrowful-lament!?

 

Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “One of these days---Whoo! Whoo!” Memories!