Sunday, April 08, 2007
Sheep
So here it is, 3:00 in the morning and I'm wide awake. Why? Because a mockingbird lives in the tree next door. Now, I've never read To Kill a Mockingbird. I do know it wasn't about knockin off one of those loudmouth fuckers, but I guarantee, at some point, Harper Lee, like anyone else who has ever heard a mockingbird, has wanted to kill one.
But the noise isn't what's keeping me awake. See, after 2 solid weeks of listening to that thing I finally got up and went out into the yard, got a few rocks and chucked 'em at the tree. Well that bird immediately stopped his warbling, and I have not heard him in the last hour. I think I really have killed him. THAT'S what's keeping me awake! I mean, I don't kill spiders (I actually caught a black widow in a cup and moved him to a location away from my house) or even Ants. Yet, here I am, throwing rocks at a defenseless little bird.
For the first half hour of my guilt-induced insomnia I tried to avoid thoughts of my crime by focusing on the state of air travel. I can absolutely not believe that we, as citizens (OR visitors) are standing idly by while "they" tell us we cannot carry shampoo, deoderant and mouthwash in our luggage. No one stands up and says, "Hey, you let me wash or I'm not flying on your damn airlines!" Yeah, I know it's not that simple, but it's three in the morning and I've just killed a mockingbird. It's something to think about.
Now that I've decided to just stop washing when I travel (that'll show 'em!!), I have to focus on something else. I turned on the TV while waiting for The Slowest Computer In The World to come to life and discovered, to my complete Joy, that Star Trek is on TV Land. And not that cheesy knock-off, Deep Space Nine, or even The Next Generation, but the Real Star Trek, circa 1969. Boy, those folks were on some serious dope! But the show is bringing flashbacks of childhood--which, of course, are fueling my insomnia. Not to mention that Star Trek is followed by another childhood fave, Sanford and Son. (dadadada--dadadada,dadada--dadadada).
Good thing I've seen all the ST episodes 400 times, because I am having to watch with no sound to avoid waking up the wife and kid. Also good that the Easter Bunny has already stopped by, because Trevor would never forgive me if our house got skipped cuz I was up watching shows I've seen a thousand times (or because I killed a poor little bird.)
So now you're probably wondering, "What's this all got to do with Sheep?" Well, when I first got up it was to rant about society, full of sheep who will be told what we can bring on airplanes, who will let people feel us up (I mean pat us down), who will be embarassed when the "security" people start pulling our "toys" out of our suitcases under pretense that it looked like a weapon, all because we are scared that everyone else on the plane is a potential terrorist. I say, if I can't wash my hair, rinse my mouth, drink my bottled water, wear my Shoes, not get accosted, and comfortably hide sex toys in my suitcase, then fuck 'em. I'll swim to Hawaii!
Warp speed, Mr. Sulu...
Thursday, November 09, 2006
My grampa was an inspiration to me. He taught me to read very young and I like to think I learned how to write from him, though my style is now my own. He retired as Post Master from the Newport Post Office. He had the position only one year--surely he took it to ensure a better rate of retirement. He and my grandma had an insurance company, I think while they were both employed at the post office. In addition my grampa worked part time at Disneyland. He said it was to increase his future collection from Social Security, but I also think he just loved Disneyland.
My grampa took my to Disneyland every year while I lived in OC. Once, I must have been 6, he let me go to a show by myself. The park was about to close and I pleaded for this One Last Thing, grampa!! He told me he was going to go to the card shop on Main Street while I was in the show and to Wait For Him if I didn't see him when I got out. (This was probably 1972 and people actually watched out for little kids instead of stealing them.) I got out of the show and he wasn't there. I knew exactly where the card shop was--I Was six years Old, afterall--and decided to go meet him there. Well, they must have moved the shop because I got lost. Like I said, the park was closing and throngs of people were moving toward the exit. (It wasn't like it is now when people mow you down!) I ended up on a bench near the exit, crying. A family saw me there on the bench and spoke to me in Spanish and I cried in English that I lost my grampa. They took me to a Disneyland Constable. The Disneycop took me to City Hall where my grampa was standing at the top of the steps after just reporting me lost. He was SO happy to see me that he didn't even get mad, which, in my six year old mind was the logical response to my "misbehavior".
We used to sing "Hi ho hi ho, to Disneyland we go" on the way. He always bought me a hat and one year the witch in Sleeping Beauty's Castle stole it. He bought me a souvenir, besides the hat, and a balloon everytime. He would say, "Yemmie, that costs a dollar twenty five. Do you have a dollar twenty five?" I would retort, "No... Grampa, have You got a dollar twenty five?" He'd say, "Yemmie, a fool and his money are soon parted," and buy me the thing I wanted. He'd be astonished at the prices now, and I don't think the fool would be parted from his money so easily. Once he took me to the potty--I was, I think, three, and had to go into the men's bathroom with him. He went in and used one stall while I used another. He came out of the stall to find me washing my hands...in the urinal. What did I know? Running water, dirty hands, three years old. What would You have done?
We frequently went to Prentice Park and the Santa Ana Zoo. One day, I was probably five, I picked up this really bad looking peanut from the ground. I studied it a bit and said to my grampa, "Grampa, I didn't know peanuts got rotten." He loked at the peanut, looked at me, and said, "That's not a peanut, Yemmie, that's a rabbit turd."
My grampa used to take me to the dump with him (I mean the Landfill.) I don't remember if it was a regular outing or not. I do know that on at least one occasion he had to push the car because it had stalled or something, and I had to steer. I can't imagine how much actual steering I did in a non power car while standing on the seat 'cause it was the only way I could see over the dash. He also used to "sneak" me into the Post Office on Sundays. He'd push me around in the, what seemed at the time, HUGE canvas cart used to carry the mail. (I've seem them since; they're not so big.)
I spent many weekends with my grandparents when my mom was single and also later. Every Saturday we had Kentucky Fried Chicken, and every Sunday my grandma made chilli. My grampa would add chilli sauce and ketchup. He'd tell my grandma, "Dorothy, you make the best chilli," and she'd say, "How do you know?" In my quest to emulate, I'd also add that stuff to my chilli. I don't know if that was the cause, but one night after chilli I barfed my guts outs. I didn't eat chilli for many years after that, and never my grandma's.
Every weekend Grampa would read the paper. He'd read me the "funnies" and then the stock report. If his stocks were doing well, he'd say "Be rich!". If they were down he'd say "Be poor." If we were Be Rich we'd buy a big bag of peanut M & M's.
Once he read me Dr Suess's Hop on Pop. I thought it was a Grand idea and did just that later while he was napping on the couch.
Every year he would take me to Toys R Us before Christmas. I got to pick out one thing that I wanted to get for Christmas. We would spend Eternity in that place, and I 'd find something on every aisle. "Grampa, this is what I want"; next aisle, "Oh Grampa, this is what I really want!"; next aisle, "Oh Grampa! This is what I Really and Truly want!"
What I Really and Truly want for Christmas this year is my Grampa. But he went the way he wanted to--with no fanfare or pain. He lived his life the way he wanted. He travelled the world and saw all of The Wonders but the Taj Mahal. He's probably there now. He was sad that he'd outlived his wife and one of his daughters, but not so overwhelmed that he stopped living. He was well known and well liked. He was a Past Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge, an Elk and probably held numerous postions I will never know about. He was a Shriner and was in parades, but I don't think he drove the funny little cars. He was very charitable. My grampa meant the world to me, and I miss him
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