Where to Land

Where to Land

Rita, Phil’s mother, was worried about her son. He was almost 30 years old and didn’t seem to have any direction. At one time, she thought he would do great things. Become a big shot lawyer, like the ones he watched on TV as a boy. She wasn't that sure he was ever interested in law, just the way most of the lawyers dressed. She shook her head and muttered. “Always the fashion plate. He had to have after school jobs just to keep ‘in style’. Always had girls flutter around him. They’ve all gone to University and my boy is working construction.” Her husband Ralph came out to the garden. “Rita, are you talking to yourself or the birds?” He knew she chattered on to herself, especially out in the garden. Sometimes she was talking to the birds or the squirrels, or the calico cat that sat on their fence where tulips bloomed. “Oh heavens Ralph! You scared me. I’ve pulled out a weed instead of planting my tomatoes!” She sat up on her knees, wiped her hands clean of dirt and squinted up to her husband. A floppy straw hat shaded her eyes. Ralph helped her up. “Come to the patio. I’ve got some ice tea for us and a couple of sandwiches. You’ve been out here in the sun for two hours and need a break.” Rita gave him a peck on the cheek. “Careful, I’m all dirty and sweaty. Ice tea sounds about right  - I am hot and thirsty. Did you make the sandwiches yourself or did you stop by the Deli down the street?”  Ralph pretended to look guilty. “You caught me. Can’t fool you, can I? It was the Deli - they gave me some Kosher pickles to go along with the sandwiches. There’s a salami and Gruyere cheese, and a vegetarian one. You get to choose.” They ate their lunch in silence, enjoying the early afternoon sun. “Are you still worried about Phil, Rita? Working with his hands, outdoors, is good for him. Gives him time to think about what he wants to do. Who knows? He may want to get out of the manual labour part and take over my business. Make it a family affair. What do you think?” Rita poured herself another glass of ice tea and passed the pitcher to her husband. An innocent look on her face she said. “Well, if I recall, you were one of those rude guys that whistled at girls from two stories up on a scaffold. I didn’t think you had any direction either.”  Ralph leaned over to his wife, looking a bit of a devil. “And if I recall, you were a little bold yourself……..asking for me a date without even knowing me!” She stood and put her hat and garden gloves back on. “I don’t want him taking over the business unless he ………I just want him to be happy. And right now, he doesn’t seem to be. He just gets up, takes the lunch I have ready for him and goes to work. Gives me a quick hug before he goes. When he comes home, he barely says hello and goes upstairs to get out of his work clothes. Yes, I am still worried about him…..Thank you for lunch, honey. I need to get back to my planting now that the shade has come over the garden.”

~~~~~

Phil did come home as usual in time for supper, his mother just cleaning up from her gardening day. She did love her garden. Instead of barely speaking to his mother, he almost lifted her off her feet in a big hug. They danced across the kitchen, almost knocking Ralph over as he was setting the table. Laughing and singing, he let go of his mother and hugged his father. He suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped and said “I’ll just go upstairs, wash up and change. Be right down for dinner.” And then he was gone. “What just happened here, Ralph? I’ve never seen him like that since he graduated with honours.” Ralph had visited with Malcolm, Rita’s brother earlier in the day. “I suspect he has something to tell us at dinner. Some good news that may ease your worries.” Phil ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, crisp blue jeans and a fresh t-shirt on. “Yes mother, Uncle Malcom talked with Mr. Digby at that old Beaufort Estate. I don’t have a full time job out there, but I can work with him….Mr. Digby that is…..he’s the butler you know. Right now, it’s more like an interview and then just a couple of hours a week. I’ll have to keep my construction job, but I think there’s more for me to do than wield a nail gun.” He looked at his father. “I hope you don’t mind, dad. Construction’s ok and I like some of the people I work with, but it’s not in my blood like it is in yours.” His father just shook his hand. “Of course I don’t mind, son. You need to find out, like most of us do, where you want your feet to land.” 

“‘I want to make my mark,’ he says. 

‘But what target, I wonder, are you going to hit’”

~ Cecil Castellucci, Boy Proof

Chapter 2, Episode 134 - Two Old Friends - Situationally Theirs

 Two Old Friends

Uncle Malcolm was his mentor and an old friend of Mr. Digby’s at the Beaufort Estate. He was his mother’s only brother. Phil’s father had been an only child, so Malcolm was his only uncle. He had been out to the Estate with his uncle several times when he was delivering groceries. Then he met Cook and the housekeeper, he thought her name was Martha. Although the family had been invited to the Digby’s wedding, the pandemic was still preventing too many get togethers, so he didn’t get a chance to meet anyone else. He had often thought that Mr. Digby’s job had to be pretty cushy. What Phil didn’t know was that right now it was rather boring. His uncle told him of the parties that were once held at the Estate and how Digby, as the butler, welcomed the guests, served Hor d’oeurves and champagne, and ran everything like clockwork. Now there were no big parties, the Estate was much quieter these days. Before dismissing that avenue, he decided to talk with his uncle about it. 

~~~~~ 

“Malcolm! Hello! I haven’t heard from you for a long time. How are you?” The telephone rang just as James was about to leave his office for lunch. He looked at it ringing, hesitated then at the last minute picked it up. Glad he did, he had been thinking about his old friend and thought it was time they got together. The pandemic and lock-downs had strained many friendships, but it was the solid ones that always managed to reconnect. It was often too easy to just let things pass. So James was very glad to hear Malcolm’s voice. “I’m fine James. Managed through the worst of the pandemic without being touched. Rita did get sick and was in hospital for a while, but hasn’t had that Long Covid that so many have suffered.”

James settled into his office chair. “I’m just about to go out to lunch in town. Martha is busy with Elizabeth so won’t be joining me.” He could hear his friend rustling around noisily. “Sorry, about the racket, James. I’m on kitchen duty, Cheryl’s off to a yoga class. The reason I called is about my nephew. You remember Phil, Rita’s son? Well, he wants some career advice and wants me to talk with you.” James laughed at the image of his friend on kitchen duty. “Leave the kitchen and come to lunch and we can talk. Is your nephew with you today, he should come too.” The squeal of a kitchen tap signalled that he would be coming to lunch. “No, he’s at work. Has a construction job. It’s a pretty good paycheque, but he’s not happy with it. Where should I meet you?” There was a final slam of a kitchen cupboard. “I’m going to the Bayside Bar & Grill and should be there in about 20 minutes……..Good……See you there.” Hanging up, James smiled. He was not a social man and good friends can be hard to come by. Especially when life and work keeps a person in kind of a bubble. He wasn’t sure what career advice he could give a young man, but he’d try. 

~~~~~

Men are not big talkers until they get together over a meal. Then they can chatter on like two women friends. Malcolm and James shook hands and hugged when they met at the Bayside. “It’s been too long, James. We almost let it slip by, didn’t we.” James just nodded and smiled. “Come, let’s make up for lost time.”

“Gentleman, for two?” The tall blonde waiter, hair pulled back tightly in a long ponytail, dressed in the uniform black of waiters and servers, greeted them when they entered. “Thank you, yes, just the two of us.” The two men followed her obediently to a booth by a window looking out on a float home village on the water. “Your waiter will be Andrea. She’ll be with you in just a moment.”

~~~~~

Malcolm and James talked and talked. Andrea, their waiter, had brought them water, place settings, menus and after several false tries finally took their orders. Lunch had almost been forgotten in the time it took for them to catch up on their lives. Poor nephew Phil would have felt injured that his name had not even been mentioned! An empty plate and second cup of coffee later, Malcolm remembered the reason for contacting James. “I guess I’d better ask you about your career for Phil. I’m not sure he knows what your job entails. All he knows of it is what I have told him in the past when Mr. Michael was still alive. What’s it like now, James? How did you manage to get through the pandemic?” James ate his last bite of chocolate cake. Brushing crumbs from his mouth with his napkin, he thought carefully. “Well, it’s not the interesting job that I did have. I might as well be an accountant now. I’m surprised Mrs. Crawford keeps all of us on out there. She still seems to think we can make something of the old place. I did tell you that she’s not Mrs. Beaufort anymore? You remember Dr. Jeremy Crawford, Mr. Michael’s best friend? His wife died about the same time Mr. Michael did. Miss Emelina and Dr. Jeremy got together and married.” And they were off again, leaving Malcolm’s nephew in the breach. “No, I hadn’t heard that. Good for her. She was getting a little off her rocker after he died wasn’t she? How did she manage in the pandemic? You said her sister stayed with her?” James leaned back and laughed. “I’ve really left out some of the changes that have gone on in the past two years.” He looked at his watch, pulled out his wallet and signalled to the waiter. “Malcolm it’s past 2:30! Martha will be wondering what’s happened to me.” Just then his phone beeped. “Yes, there she is.” Putting his glasses on, he picked up his phone and answered the call. “You’ll never believe it, Martha. Malcolm and I have been at lunch for over two hours.”……….   “He’s coming out to Estate with me”……..  “We’re just leaving now. See you shortly. Are you home or in the kitchen with Elizabeth?:……..  Closing his phone, he said “Elizabeth has fresh baking, Malcolm - it’s better than ever.” While James was talking to Martha, Malcolm texted his wife to let her know that he was going out to the Estate. She texted back that after yoga she had been to lunch with her yoga class and was now going shopping. “See you when you get back. Say hello to Martha and Elizabeth. Tell them I’ll be out to see them soon.” She always signed off with a hugging emoji. 

~~~~~

“They talked in the shorthand of old friends and shared memories.”

~ Dee Henderson, Before I Wake

What to Do

What to Do

Phil was full of himself. At least that’s what his sister told him. This particular morning, standing in front of his mirror, face half shaved, he wondered if she wasn’t correct. He looked at his razor. It was special. It had to be a certain brand, for a certain facial type and his shaving cream purchased at a beauty parlour where he had his hair cut every two weeks. Since a teenager, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As far as he was concerned his sister didn’t pay enough attention to herself. His clothes were always spotless, much to the chagrin of his mother. He was finally told to wash all his clothes himself. “You want me to look presentable don’t you mother?”  “My dear, you always look like you’re about to go to some high level meeting or out on a date with that lovely girl from school.” After high school, it didn’t change. Except that he had to get a job. All he could get was a construction job while he started online University. He could barely tolerate his co-workers wearing the same unkempt clothes everyday. He did learn that he loved the outside work. The very thought of wearing a suit and tie everyday went against his new found preference. Being cooped up in a office, no matter how great the pay or prestige was, just did not sit well with him. Phil was stuck. He was not going to be a landscaper who got dirt under his fingernails. He wasn’t that interested in plants, or grass or crops of any kind. His university classes had all been directed at Law. It was interesting, but just hadn’t gripped him the way he thought it would. Journalism? He would have to work a lot of menial reporting jobs - society functions, dog shows, fairs. All very boring. There was no assurance that he’d land a plum anchor job at a TV station. Interviewing high level politicians didn’t happen if you hadn’t done the work to get there.  He finished shaving, making sure to clean his face of every bit of shaving cream. He changed his blade, put everything away in his shaving case, wiped up the bathroom, leaving it as pristine as it had been. 

The door bell rang. He heard his mother answer the door, greet whomever was there, close the door. Then “Phillip! There’s mail for you. A small package from your sister.” He sighed. “Put it on the hall table. I’ll open it after breakfast.” Under his breath he muttered. “I wondered what oddball thing she’s sent me this time.” The time before it had been a brilliant fuschia scarf. He had folded it up and stuck in the the back of a bottom drawer. As he closed the drawer, he could hear her cheerful voice all the way across the country. “Lighten up Phillie!” A fuschia scarf wouldn’t help him decide what to do with his life. He’d send her a thank you email anyway. Dressed in clean, pressed khaki pants and shirt, he went down to breakfast. He needed to have a good paycheque to get where he wanted to go, wherever that was. However, his father had always told him “A paycheque isn’t worth much if you don’t enjoy your job, Phil.”

“It’s not about earning a paycheck, it’s about doing 

something good that you believe in.”

~ Adam Kinzinger

Purpose ~ PURPOSE - Theme for May 2023

 

**a writing exercise

Phil was full…….

Uncle Malcolm was his…..

Rita, Phil’s mother……..

Philomena, his twin sister…

Oscar, their Blue Heeler……

Sarah-Ann had never…….

Eventually……..

“To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides 

of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.”

~ Robert M. Pirsig,

(author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:

An Inquiry into Values)

More Sweetness!

*Dessart Sweets Ice Cream & Candy Store

3036 13th Ave, Regina, SK

Side by side, working on writing projects in a quaint little bookstore - The Penny University Bookstore on 13th Ave. My partner finishing up a short story, I’m working on a long term writing project. Two hours in silence broken by discussing writing strategies, problems, the music of the bookstore and patrons coming and going. 

We parted ways, my compatriot drove away to eat pie, while I…….well I had to walk through a line of couples and young families at the ice cream store. Not wanting to appear rude, I joined the line.

Salted caramel and fudge ice cream chosen with care. An outside table vacated, I’m sure just for me, was perfect to sit in the sun and not let a drop of ice cream escape. Ice cream - I really needed that deliciousness.

“Forget art. Put your trust in ice cream.”

~ Charles Baxter, The Feast of Love

Sweetness and a Mystery

An Oreo cookie confection at
Elle's Cafe ~ 2811 13th Ave, Regina

Sunshine and errands ~

a matched pair for getting things done.

At days end, it’s time

for an Oreo confection

with a latte, a Louise Penny

mystery, and her Inspector Gamache.

“Just living is not enough…One must have 

sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

~ Hans Christian Andersen

**A book review in a couple of weeks…….

A New Day

Snow melted away in sunshine strong ~ dust and debris of winter still clings to sidewalks and streets, puffed up clouds ride high while

hot metallic low slung cars, released from winter hideaways, slither between service vans and sedans, sun glints off their brightness 

buses, sidewalks and streets 

fill with springtime throngs ~

down-filled coats, toques, gloves and parkas traded in for shirt sleeves and light jeans.

“With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.”

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

It's On the Way

 

Rain clouds in great grey puffs

   lowered over head ~

a tease for greening spring and summer.

“In those days, though, the spring always came finally 

but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.”

~ Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Chapter Two, Episode 133 - Thrilling to Music - Situationally Theirs

Thrilling to Music

Ben was quiet on their walk home. At 12, just about 13, he felt nervous more often than not. Even with his mother. She had always been the person that he could go to with anything. Even around his sister Abby. She wasn’t his baby sister anymore. He didn’t even know where his dad was. When he was just a kid, he was the man of the house. When his father left to take the job that had stolen him from the family, he told Ben that he was ‘the man of the house’. Ben took him seriously and tried his best. Now, he just felt alone. Listening to his mother and grandmother talking, he felt even more left out. He walked on ahead of them until his mother called out. “Come, give your Grandma a hug. She’s going home now to make supper for Grandpa James.” He just stopped on the path, his shoulders sagged. He sighed and turned around. Slowly, he walked to his Grandmother, gave her a short hug and turned back towards home.

~~~~~

At school the next day, he and Jimmy leaned against their lockers before class talking. Jimmy had a girlfriend, sort of. Ben didn’t know if he wanted a girlfriend. “Already too many females at the Estate.” He liked big words and it felt funny saying women, cause Abby was really the only girl. “What do you think of music?” Jimmy just shrugged. “It’s all right, but I told my mom and dad I don’t want to take piano lessons anymore. They’re boring.” That didn’t help Ben’s mood. He was hoping that his buddy would say he loved it or something. “Well, I’m going to maybe take guitar lessons. Maybe.” He felt weird saying it out loud after Jimmy said it was boring. The bell rang and they went into their computer class. That was something they could agree on. At least computers were interesting. His mom was always glad she didn’t have to teach a computer class. He looked at the watch that his father had given him. Pretty old fashioned, but it had been his dad’s. Maybe he’d come back for it some day. 

When class was done, he picked up his books and left the room before Jimmy could start talking to him again. He threw his backpack and books into his locker on the way to the music room. Up the stairs to the second floor, he was to meet his mother so they could talk to the music teacher, Mr. Reynolds. Taking the stairs two at a time, he could hear the music from the High School Jazz band practice winding up. A little thrill of excitement went through him. Even if the guitar thing didn’t work out, he’d find some other instrument to play. Join the band, if they had a junior one. He wouldn’t be in high school for at least another year. If it cost very much, he’d see if he could work for Samuel in the garden after school. He could hear his mother now. “You’ll have to keep your grades up, Ben.” There she was, waiting outside the music room door. She looked tired. He’d always paid attention to that, so he could help her out. He knew that it was hard for her.

~~~~~

Teenagers of all ages, poured out of the classroom, chattering about the next event that they would be playing at. “Finally! We get to go out of town.” “Yeah, but we still have to be careful. Testing for Covid, wearing masks and the old usual stuff” “But at least we’ll be out of here! See you tomorrow.” “Call me when you get home.”  As their noise followed them down the hall, the building almost seemed empty. “We can go in now, Ben. Mr. Reynolds is expecting us.” His mother had to give him a little push. Once in the door, he just stood and looked at all the shining trumpets and horns, the beautiful grand piano, the red drum set………he took a step forward and gently caressed the ones nearest. Then there it was. Propped up in its rack. A guitar, and then another one. “Mom. Do you really think I can do this?” He was grinning from ear to ear. “He looks pretty excited Joanie. Did you know he had an interest in music?” Mr. Reynolds and Joanie had stood back, watching Ben and the reverence he had, especially for the guitars. As soon as he saw them, he wanted to pick one up, but looked back at Mr. Reynolds fearing he shouldn’t be touching them. Like a little kid in a room full of china. “No, I didn’t so never encouraged him, but it seems he’s found almost a passion.” Mr. Reynolds nodded at Ben and told him he could pick up the guitar. He was pleased to see that Ben held it correctly without instruction. “I’ve also had a call from Mrs. Crawford at the Beaufort Estate offering to give Ben a guitar. It had belonged to her first husband, Michael Beaufort.” Mr. Reynolds clapped his hands. “Michael and his guitar! I remember them, and if it’s the guitar his father had given him. He was one of my best students. Ben’s a very lucky boy.” Ben’s ears perked up when he heard his mother saying she’d heard from Miss Emelina. “Then it’s okay mom?! I was going to tell you but wanted to talk with Mr. Reynold’s first.” He turned to the music teacher. “You taught Mr. Michael! Wow!”  It was all turning out better than he ever dreamed. “It just so happens that my Junior band has just had a member drop out and I need to fill that space. It’s a school project so there will be no extra cost to you. But are you willing to keep your grades up? Because that is a must do. If you really want to play music in a serious way, your grades must be excellent. Not perfect, but kept up.” Ben’s grin had not left his face. “Yes sir! As soon as I picked up that guitar today, I knew I’d do anything to learn more.”

Ben and Joanie went home that evening. Joanie called Miss Emelina and let her know that they would be by later that evening to pick up the guitar. Ben almost grabbed the phone from his mother. “Thank you, thank you, Miss Emelina.” Blushing he handed the phone back to his mother. Laughing, she said her good byes and they drove home, Ben still in a dream world.

“Music touches us emotionally, where words alone can’t.”

~ Johnny Depp

Jolted!

Evening Writer's Circle

Welcome, check in, 

meditation….

…….quiet. 

Heads down to computer screens or note pads, 

words and ideas floating and swirling from busy minds to fingertips. 

only the tap of computer keys punctuated the silence……………………..

BONG, BONG, BONG……FLASHING LIGHTS…..

heads snapped up!!……..

What’s that noise?!!!

It’s the fire alarm!!!!…..

Should we leave?!!……

computers, paper, pens disappeared into backpacks and cases,

jackets thrown on, we were led outside by our fearless leader, 

Writer in Residence Pam Bustin, to gather across the street.  

 

Sirens blared from two directions, 

Regina Fire Department was on the scene in minutes, 

from 3 or 4 firetrucks, heavily coated firemen strode into the building…..

.......still no smoke. 

Police on the scene spoke with those of us evacuated about our reasons for being in the library.

Shivering in the cold evening wind, rampant speculation spread about whether there was real fire, wanting someone to tell us what to do next, learning that indeed there had been a fire set in building, pointing up to the second floor. I’m sure details will be in the news at some point. Some of our group had already left for the evening. Just as the last of us were about to call it quits, Pam told us that we were released while the firemen were completed their inspection of the building. In agreement in the cold, we dispersed to home and hearth.

~~~~~

What was I writing on? A project about epilepsy management! The alarm had been right over my head! Thankfully, seizure activity for me has been stable for over 20 years but had it not, it could have been much worse. Has given me pause to think about where alarms are in buildings!

“A jolt activates the mind like nothing else.”

~ Haresh Sippy, author

To Be or Not

Is there any purpose? 

Should any of us be here? 

Does any of it matter? 

Seeking purpose, the answer is seldom in my mailbox or in a phone call, so

I am offered two choices:  

throw a fine pity party or

wiggle my toes in the sand 

gaze at the vast, blue sky, 

say goodnight to the stars in the sky, 

dance on the ground beneath my feet

and share in this great community

witnessing it all while I 

live, love and have fun

leaning into life as it is and as it becomes

accepting cloudy days and the blossoms of spring 

most of all to cherish family and friends.

“Yes, I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, 

to follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes.”

~ Jean Valentine, Door in the Mountain: 

New and Collected Poems 1965-2003

 

Butterflies, Bees and a Birthday

Butterflies and bees came a-partying for

a charming, sweet girl ~ One Year Old today!

Happy noise filled the birthday room when

toys for little hands in bright shiny colours

burst from glossy party bags that glistened.

All topped off with cake, hotdogs and yummies!

“Today you are you! That is truer than true! 

There is no one alive who is you-er than you!”

~ Dr. Seuss

A Cool Evening

April snow dripping, dribbling into

     pools of water from

trees etched in black at sunset

“I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night 

and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists.”

~ John J. Geddes