HDWGH – Story 34 – Dingleberry Johnson
–From The How Did We Get Here Series–
Now: It was at the bottom of the 5th inning when Cletus Johnson looked up at the big display in the ballpark. In bright blue letters it read, “For a good time, call Cletus “Dingleberry” Johnson. He always gives you a little extra.” In traditional ballpark fashion, the ad was quickly replaced with a live shot of Cletus and a look on his face that would eventually become a meme.
Before: Angela Johnson had been married to Cletus for nearly five years. He was a good man. He was kind. He loved her deeply and as far as she knew, he was absolutely faithful. What she was having a problem with was her husband’s dingleberries. It was one of those things that you see and then can never get out of your mind. She first saw them a couple of weeks ago and they haven’t had sex since.
She tried to tell him about it. Tried. It was extremely difficult to come up with a way to broach the subject. “Hey, honey. I’d like to talk to you about your dingleberry problem.” Angela and Cletus didn’t have that kind of relationship. Certain things were never discussed.
It was Angela’s friend Kerry that had come up with a novel idea. Cletus loved to go to baseball games. It was something that she and Cletus did not do together. She hated sports.
Writing Through Pain
A great article and couldn’t be timelier for me.
Grief is the ultimate thief of creativity. As artists, we have a duty to observe and experience those poignant moments so we can better portray them in our art. But experiencing them isn’t always conducive to our deadlines. Grief is different than your run-of-the-mill writer’s block. There is the desire to write, the words are there ready to be put on paper but the energy to put pen to paper is lacking. The normal remedies of researching, journaling or even reading no longer work.
Read the whole article here.
Weird Series of Events
I would start this sentence with “so” except that every time you do, I think a small child dies somewhere.
I was on the fence about going to my brother’s funeral. Why? There are any number of reasons but the main reason is that there are people there. Anyone who knows me to any extent knows that I have a social anxiety problem. I’ve had it all of my life and the only times I ever tried to do anything “social” someone else pushed me to do it.
If left to my own devices, I’ll stay away from public events. It has absolutely nothing to do with COVID-19 although lets face it, the whole thing was great if you don’t like being around other people.
The morning of the funeral I was outside rounding up some pool supplies for the weekend. I’m getting read to shut the make-shift gate and I look up to see an SUV hitting his breaks right before he T-Bones another vehicle at the intersection in front of me.
I took this an a sign. A sign that I should possibly stay at home and not jump into a motor vehicle. I don’t drive because the law says I can’t. I don’t drive because I don’t want to drive. I fell out of love with it a long time and many trucker accidents ago.
My brother was killed in a single vehicle accident. He was driving and wasn’t wearing his seat belt. Everyone else was. They lived. He did not.
In summary, I know I haven’t put up a post in a couple of days. So, this is it.
Jesus. I used the word “so” to start that last sentence. I feel dirty.
HDWGH – Story 33 – Fowl Clairvoyance
–From The How Did We Get Here Series–
Now: Chad Hess stood on the pier with a look of disgust and heart break as Nicole Harris told him that she would not marry him and that his present condition was obviously a “sign.”
Before: Chad Hess had arranged his marriage proposal with careful precision. Nicole Harris was extremely superstitious and he knew he would have to be very careful. He would need to check and re-check every plan he was making to make sure it met with Nicole’s approval. Nicole had turned down another marriage proposal when her soon to be husband received a letter in the mail informing him of an upcoming tax audit. Nicole took that as a bad “sign” and called off the engagement. Chad was not going to allow that to happen to him.
He took Nicole out to the local pier to the beautiful spot at the very end looking over the glistening blue water. This spot was one of her favorites. Chad knew he couldn’t go wrong. Chad got down on one knee.
When a seagull left an extra special gift on his right cheek. Seeing the warm specimen slide down Chad’s cheek was all she needed to see the situation for what it was.
Services Update
It looks like I am going to attend the services for my baby brother because in this instance, it would seem completely wrong for me not to attend.
My brother and I weren’t really close in the latter part of his life but we were close in the first half.
That is how I will choose tom remember him.
The little guy that was excited about everything. He used to be a little fireball so full of energy and wanting to try everything.
He loved riding around with me on my Suzuki Quad Racer when he was little and thought it was the greatest thing ever.
We always thought the he would be the one to go off to college and change the world as we knew it.
His life took a different path.
I believe that this path is the very reason we need to attend a service to mourn his passing this week.
R.I.P. Little Brother.
Jony Ive’s Commencement Address
This is absolutely fabulous from someone who doesn’t really feel comfortable giving speeches.
Funerals
I’ll tell you why I think funerals are archaic and stupid.
It is because they are not about the person who actually died. They are about a bunch of people who knew the dead person and who come together to make themselves feel better about the loss of the person in the box. In a lot of cases, it is almost like a reunion of people who are connected and by the death of someone, have decided to reconnect.
Again, not about the dead person although everything may appear that way. The dead person really doesn’t give a shit about the gathering. In fact, they aren’t even aware that it is happening. What is the point of throwing a party for someone who can’t attend?
That is wrong to me.
R.I.P. – Aaron Allen Patrick Troutman
The name may not mean anything to my readers but that is the name of my little brother.
He died last evening in a car accident.
I am still trying to process that fact that he is gone.
HDWGH – Story 32 – Easter Surprise
–From The How Did We Get Here Series–
Now: Jessica Simmons looked up from the holy water in Saint Michael’s Church’s vestibule to find three priests staring at her with crossed arms and shocked looks on their faces. Brown chunks of biological matter floated around in the holy water. Jessica wasn’t sure but at the moment the priests arrived, she might have a peed a little into the holy water.
Before: Jessica Simmons was upset with her parents about having to go to Sunday Easter services alone. She never understood why they made her go to church when they themselves did not go. It was no matter. On Easter morning she woke up and ran through her usual routine. When it came time to dress, she picked one of her favorite sundresses, and decided to paint her nails to match the dress. With finger nails and toe nails ready, she began getting dressed. First, the panties and bra, followed by the slip, and then finally the sundress. She looked in the mirror and marveled at how good she looked.
She left her small house and began the short two block journey to the Catholic Church named Saint Michael’s. It was an over the top throw back to the times when church mattered more to folks than what it seemed like now, she thought. As she approached the church, she removed her flats and continued the journey in her bare feet. The sun was warm and she felt so beautiful. Until, she accidentally stepped in a big steaming pile of dog poo. The feeling of shit squishing between her toes almost made her vomit. The smell was excruciating.
She had a plan. It was early enough that the priests wouldn’t be out greeting anyone just yet. She got as much of the shit of her toes as she could without touching it by wiping her toes in the nearby grass and then proceeded into the church vestibule. Right in the center, right where she expected it to be, was the holy water fountain or whatever the proper term was. She didn’t know and didn’t care. She set her shoes down on the small bench inside the door and jumped up planting her feet in the Luke warm holy water. She wasn’t sure if she should say a blessing, prayer, or simply ask for forgiveness.
Hopefully, she could get cleaned up and no one would see her.
