Grandma-days!
I
reckon a “charmed”-life followed me around---mostly…or, was it an attitude of “blessings”?
My
earliest memories of my Grandma Aleta is bifurcated in the mist of
early-enjoyments: when I was a mere three years old, I “hid” on my mom as she
returned from across Main Street in our little town from the I.G.A. grocery
store cattycorner from Grandma’s house; I hid behind the kitchen wood-burning
cook-stove; getting too close to the hot flue I burned my tender cheek. Ouch! Somewhere around age four or five,
I vividly recall “helping” Grandma rake leaves in her back yard and burning the
debris; still, to this day, nearly seven decades later, any time I encounter
that acrid smell pleasant nostalgia overtakes me with memories. She was a great
lady!
The
house sat on a narrow lot with a deep back yard; a German custom to accommodate
a vegetable-garden and fruit orchard filling the ¼ acre rear space. A detached
garage sat 2/3 of the way toward the rear line; it had an overhead
drive-through door for the “machine”, vehicle, as Poppy called his Pontiac.
While installing that door, it fell on him and he limped ever after.
He
was a fabulous individual; fortunate was “blessed” I to have him and
Granddaddy.
The
long driveway from Main Street to the garage Grandma had lined with colorful-peonies.
She
had roses and a “prized” clematis; the crowning jewel was a magnolia tree my
dad had helped plant when he was only seven years old (it is still there,
today!).
My
very favorite dessert was (is) cherry-custard pie; Grandma baked the best! Yun! Yum!
Often,
I’d call, or stop by to ask for a pie---always…she complied! Thanks! Grandma!
I
mowed her lawn and did odd jobs to help out, eager to lend a hand. We spent a
lot of time together. I had a “tall” tricycle, once; she let me ride it in the
rain! Ah! Adventure! On a day after a
ride in the rain, she told me that it would rain for three days because the
drops made bubbles on the water in the gutter. Hmm!? Grandma knew a lot! I reckon that’s so!
Well!
Finally, I grew up!? Well! Anyway, I got older and bigger and, at long last,
got a job.
Landing
a “position” that left me to my own devices on my own schedule giving me a
great deal of “free” time, I managed to get very “short” days on Fridays. Yahoo! I liked that! For sure!
My
“Catholic” upbringing demanded fasting with meatless meals on Friday. I love fish!
Local
restaurants and taverns specialized in fried fish menus for the Friday clientele.
Often, I would go by Grandma’s house, have her get all “gussied”-up and take
her to lunch. She enjoyed my “Catholic”
meal like a member of the fold; her family had once been catholic.
My Grandma-"date" would have a fish sandwich and a “white” soda; sitting at a table we would enjoy a pleasant hour, or so,
talking.
Maybe
such things are small in the
sophisticated scheme of an erudite society, but, the “events” of any day can be
great-adventures---depending, of course…on a simple-humble attitude towards
life and happy-times. Thanks! Grandma! I love you!
If I Am but a
composite of environment, I am so proud of the Blessings bestowed. Amen!
Plus:
Royal-Elites to Angel-Saints—Demons,
too!
Punching
the disconnect button on his fancy, state-of-the-art “Celeb No. 7i” newest
version of the “modern” talk box, William angrily tossed the contraption onto
the passenger-side leather seat of his premier foreign chariot, disgust on his
“needing-a-shave” face and patently obvious in his pernicious, impatient
actions. What he mumbled under his breath? Well! God! Forgive him.
He
had hung up on Larry Summers down at the bank---his bank. Didn’t that idiot, who only got to be vice-president
because his old man was on the board of directors, know who William was? He
handled the largest real estate deals
in town; his own money was on deposit there, too.
“Well!”
He salved his wounded ego, “For now
it is, ole Larry-boy.” William scowled. “Turn down a loan on one of my deals?
You rotten scum-sucker!” His anger surged.
This
convoluted divorce from Antoinette, his failed fourth try at marriage, was
about to ruin him. Now, his “big” deal with the New York tycoon had hit a snag;
he might lose everything.
Young,
and beautiful, Antoinette wanted half---of
everything! After only two years of wedded bliss! Yeah, sure! Two years of---Hell! He had a pre-nuptial
agreement---but…Lawyers!
“She
must be spending a lot of private time with that shark-breath lawyer she hired,” he surmised, getting angrier as he
drove. Because of that insufferable demon-temper, William missed an opportunity
for challenge with, yet, another lovely. A red sports car convertible, this one
American with a “pony” emblem in the center rear panel, pulled alongside him as
the driver down-shifted and revved the roaring engine which reverberated with a
deep growl. Looking over, William caught sight of a long, smooth, tanned thigh
enticing him. As he stared, appreciatively, the driver accelerated and swerved
into his lane, cutting him off.
“Damn!”
He swore, offering the horn and an impolite gesture; the blonde babe waved back
and kept going. If his anger had subsided, even just a little bit, he might
have gotten the license number. “Nice lines,” he allowed. “Wouldn’t mind
sighting that little filly’s emblem from behind, any time.” He laughed, “That
white cowgirl hat sure was a nice touch, too!”
If
William lucked out with half of the divorce pie, he considered, getting back to
the real world as he put the blonde out of his mind, sort of, he’d still be
deep in debt with a huge attorney’s bill. Both lawyers knew his predicament as
he had provided all the financial statements; they didn’t care. Why should
they? These vultures delighted in preying on poor victims like William; you
might think it was all his fault. Damn!
Antoinette was half his age; immature; didn’t she have, at least, a modicum of
culpability for their marital disaster?
He
must make a decision as to which he despised the most: Mendacious
Money-merchants, Lying Leper-Lawyers or Gold-grabber gals. A very tough
assignment. Indeed!
As
the red flush from his head subsided with a return to “normal”, for him, blood
pressure, William’s breathing settled into a rhythmic cadence causing his
thoughts to focus more clearly.
“I’ll
get that loan approval to make this deal work; just call Larry’s old man, he
has good business sense, not like that idiot kid of his. Should have dealt with
Charlie in the first place.”
He
shook his head, irritated, once again. “And, Antoinette…?”
“Ha!”
He laughed out loud, shaking his head, again. “She’s just like the I.R.S.; she
knows a lot, but she didn’t know---everything. Like his secret account in the
Cayman Islands! Ha! Ha!”
And,
certainly, William wasn’t lonely with a bevy of beauties at the office, a half
dozen gorgeous female agents and a plethora of seductive secretaries, each
ready, willing and able to please the rich boss; and, he kept special little
Betty-Lynn in a very nice condo on the beach!
Relaxing,
at last, he picked up the phone device and pressed a button for Charlie’s
private number; in less than ten minutes suave William had “silver-tongued”
sweet-victory from bitter-defeat. William smiled, pleased with his abilities;
all he had to do---was…Do! Wow! Easy!
Pressing
the disconnect prompt, William smiled. “Nobody ever gets the better of me!”
Ten
blocks from his swank office complex, William pulled his sleek convertible into
a 7-11.
Not
his usual haunt, but, he needed a lottery ticket; the jackpot was a quarter of
a billion dollars! “Get those numbers
right,” he mused, admiring his shiny auto, “and they can all kiss---!”
As
he entered the store through the glass door, a little boy about ten, or so,
sidled up to the counter in front of William; this annoyed the man as he was in
his usual hurry-up state.
“Why
wasn’t this kid in school? Anyway?” He wondered without verbal comment.
The
youngster had two Icees, one grape, the other cherry; he nearly dropped one,
struggling to get it on the counter as he clutched a hand full of two bills and
some coins. William shifted his weight, impatient with the urchin’s clumsy
manner; didn’t anybody teach kids anything?
Counting
out the two bills and various coins the child had deposited on the counter, the
kindly clerk, a middle-aged man, shook his head at the boy, saying, “Timmy! I’m
sorry, son, but you only have enough money to buy one of these drinks.” He waited,
patiently.
“Gee!
Mr. Sam,” he began, fighting back tears with a tremble in his voice. “Mom
really likes the grape, and cherry’s my favorite,” he seemed confused as
William became interested, watching this miniscule master salesman work his
prospect. The boy smiled; Sam frowned.
“Timmy?”
That little performance ain’t gonna work.” He pointed to a camera on the
ceiling. “The boss told me, no more credit! If I don’t collect, he’ll take it
out of my pay. Sorry! No money; no Icee! I just can’t do it. Not anymore.” He
paused. “I could get fired! I need this job!”
“Okay!
Mr. Sam.” The lad said, resigned to the clerk’s dilemma. Timmy glanced outside.
“It’s
about a hundred and ten out there,” he offered. “Mom’s home sick in the bed…”
Timmy glanced down at the Icees melting in their cups on the counter. “She sure
likes the grape…”
Timmy
paused, again, a forlorn plea of begging on his pale face and in his thin,
vacant, voice.
Mr.
Sam shook his head and spread his hands, palms up, formulating his argument.
Timmy
cut him off like an Arab trader bartering with a tourist in a horse-trade deal
on the far desert as a hot Sirocco blows sand against a shaky bazaar tent with
the boy’s final coup-de-grace.
“Mr.
Sam,” he rasped in a dry, crackling voice, “our air conditioner is broke, too!”
The
clerk rolled his eyes, exasperated, reaching into his own pocket in abject
surrender.
William
spoke up, laughing at the little drama as he said, “Son, take your ice cold
drinks home to your sick momma and pick up that money; maybe you can use it to
get the A/C fixed. If anybody could manage that prestidigitation,” he
concluded, “my money is on you, kid.”
“Mr.
Sam,” he addressed the hapless clerk as he patted the boy on the shoulder,
“I’ll have tonight’s winning Red-White-and, Blue lottery ticket---and…put this
young man’s purchase on my bill.” He winked, suddenly feeling good, like all
his burdens had been magically lifted by his charitable gesture; funny, he had
not felt so good in a very long time.
Maybe
there really was something to that old saw from his childhood: Virtue is its
own reward! Anyway, the events brought a genuine smile of satisfaction to his
face; it felt “Good”!
“Timmy,”
William said to the urchin, handing him a hundred and a twenty dollar bill
folded neatly over his business card, “this C-note is for your mother; make
sure she gets it---all of it; the
sawbuck is for you. When you graduate high school, or, college, come see me,
I’ll have a sales job for you. That was the best slight-of-hand performance I
think that I have ever seen.
“Bravo!
Young man! Bravo! You will do very well in this old world, my little friend.”
Timmy
smiled a “Thank you!!” as he made his exit; Sam handed William his lottery
ticket.
Glancing
at the chance-for-Salvation, William’s eyes widened in disbelief at the
Super-ball!
“Well!
Well! Sam!” He smiled. “Just look-y here. I think my luck really has changed! A
red-7 for the Super-ball! Damn! I believe that my number has finally come up!”
He
shook the clerk’s hand as Sam returned the smile; he liked to please his
customers.
William
returned to his spiffy red sports car convertible, still laughing at his
new-found protégé’s acumen and his own turn of seeming “Good luck”. He felt
good; like all was right with the world. He could handle anything. Funny how the
big issues could evaporate in the
space of another’s challenged trial, real or imagined.. William spied the boy
approaching the corner ahead of him; Timmy was looking at his huge cache of
wealth; the light was against him but the young man did not notice and he
errantly entered the intersection with reckless abandon.
William
panicked as he pulled to a stop at the line, having a red light. He yelled at
Timmy.
The
lad had stepped into the driving lane of the narrow one-way cross-street when
he heard a warning voice yell “Look out!” at the same instant he heard the
truck tires squeal on the concrete pavement. Wide-eyed, the boy looked up to
see a large cargo panel truck almost on top of him; he froze in sheer panic,
unable to react.
The
driver swerved to miss the pedestrian as he slammed on the brakes, locking them
up.
He
managed to miss the little boy but when the left front tire hit the curb, the
truck driver over corrected, steering too hard; the transport tilted
precariously, balanced for an instant as though it might elude gravity and land
on its wheels, then, it gave up the battle as it leaned on its side, the large
side panel advertising the state lottery Red! White! And, Blue! game emblazoned
with a bright, glossy “Red-7” painted on it falling directly onto a shiny red
convertible.
William
never knew what hit him; his last thought: Concern for little Timmy’s
well-being; his final sight in this world: The dreaded “terminal”-hope! His
“number” had, indeed, come up!
Ah!
The Saints among us! Even, Angels, too! And---for sure…Damnable Demons! Amen!
*
* * *
*
Ten
minutes later, he had not even hung around for the police and ambulance to
arrive on the horrific fatal-accident scene, Arnold, a.k.a.”Timmy”, climbed
four long flights of debris-cluttered stairs in an abandoned warehouse to enter
his “crib”. Sitting on the filthy mattress, he silently fingered the crisp
bills, smiling; the funny-looking business card with fancy writing he absently
tossed to the littered floor. Distracted with thoughts of what? where? and how?
to manage supper, he first sipped the cherry Icee, savoring the tantalizing
sweetness before slowly swallowing, then tried the grape delight, alternating
flavors in a rhythmic cadence, contemplating his future. He did all right for
an orphan kid on his own on the unforgiving mean streets a very savage
“jungle”-city. Nobody gave a Damn! Save loser idiots ripe for fleecing. Arnold
was most proud of his abilities and accomplishments. He laid back for a
nap---smiling.
No good deed goes
unpunished…
Good!---begets…Evil!---begets…Good!... and,
In the end, the
“Good” guys win! (Revelation)
Amen!?
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