Soul Food





                                                    Soul Food

 

         The middle-aged artist approached the old monk sitting cross-legged in the center of a vast frozen plateau somewhere in the middle of Tibet.  Behind him was a long line of other artists waiting to confer with the old monk.  The middle-aged artist stopped and pulled from his knapsack a small painting and a display easel which he promptly set before the monk.  Cowled in black sheep skin, the monk was proclaimed to be the ultimate authority in the Real Meaning of Muddies by those who should know better, which incidentally qualified the monk to be an art critic of the first order.  Slowly, the old monk looked up and examined the middle-aged artist and, with a wave of the hand, beckoned the artist to come forward and proceed with his case.

          “Oh monk of the Real Meaning,” cried the artist as he stamped his feet and blew on his hands to keep warm.  “I started painting and creating art since the price of coffee was a nickel, which is to say, a very long time.  But I was always endeavoring to create my one masterpiece, and after many decades of trial and error, I think that what I am presenting before you is that one.  Could you look at it and say this is so, and if not, why not?  Tell me, so I may learn and take heart in my continual quest for perfection.”

           “You have come to the right woman, my son,” said the monk.

          “Woman?” said the artist, startled.  “I presume you were a man.  Sorry, no offense but aren’t monks supposed to be men?”

           “I am deeply offended.  Is my advice worth less because I’m a woman?” asked the monk.  “I’m also Dutch, and I bet you a dollar that you thought I was Tibetan, didn’t you?  Come on, admit it.  Remember, one of the greatest virtues of Art is Truth.”

           “Oh, all right.  Here’s your dollar,” pouted the artist.

           “I will now hum my mantra for at least five minutes, for you have really, really upset me,” claimed the monk.

          She began to hum in earnest while the artist looked at his watch.  Finishing with the national anthem of Holland, the monk said softly, “Will this be cash or charge?”

           “I have to pay for this?” said the artist with eyebrows raised.  “Hey, I thought these critiques were on a quasi-religious level, way above the crassness of money or profit.”

           “Nothing, of any worth, is free, my son, as you should well know by now.  Everything has a price, including advice.  If it is given freely, it will be worthless, especially if it's free advice.  Now, let me repeat myself, will this be cash or charge?” as she laid out the credit card imprint machine on the white snow.

           Will a Visa card do?” sighed the artist as he fumbled for his wallet with his frozen fingers.  He began flapping his arms to keep warm as she slid the credit card through a slot in the machine. 

          The monk nodded and began to focus intently at the artist’s painting.  It was a still-life of an eclectic bowl of fruits.  “To begin with, your apples are perfectly drawn and painted with the right textures, but it is of little consequences.  Your selection of colors for your red bananas are perfect and all in the right places, but that matters little."  Again, she pauses, then continues.  "Your foreground of green cherries harmonized with your background of wall paper designs…a most difficult thing to accomplish, but that too is also insignificant.   …..As for it being a masterpiece, well, what can I say, except (Yawn) that the painting definitely meets all the requirements of a good painting, and all the rules have been met, indeed, even exceeded.

           “I can surmise by your constant yawning that my painting is boring you,  Are you implying, by wordy nuances, that my painting is not a masterpiece...because I haven’t broken any rules?  Is that what you're suggesting?” asked the artist, incredulously.

          “Master artists do not break rules, they merely invent new ones.  And evidently you haven’t…but that still is of no matter,” answered the monk.

         “Well, damn it, what does matter?” cried the artist.

        “Let me put it this way, my son," said the monk, as she looked over his head, eyeing the long line behind him.  "Your precious painting is like a lovely, beautifully decorated living room…that nobody has ever lived in.  And that is what really matters.  Grasp that and you  may yet turn out a masterpiece.  Times up.  Who’s next?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                          

How to live to Ninety and Beyond

 

                                                 How to Live Past Ninety

 

        For starters, this program is for those who are susceptible to suggestions.  I have a program for those who are not, but not here.  We presume you are a person without infirmities and in average health, and are interested in living, not only to a very old age, but in such good health that you can golf, swim and play tennis without attracting attention.

          There is no secret to longevity and don’t let hucksters sell you on a bill of pills, diets and expensive treadmills.  All you need is common sense, the kind your folks used during the recession when living was so astringent and money so tight that the only way to survive was to sing and dance to show tunes while passing the hat.  My program is broken down to three simple parts.  Part one is your mental attitude toward life and how it affects your health.  The second will be on diets: not to lose weight, but to strengthen libidos, and the third part will be on physical exercises and its importance to your doing what you do and doing it with ease.  If you follow what I have outlined, I guarantee that you will live past the age of your parents and in excellent health too.  No, I am not selling anything harmful to make a profit, nor asking for anything in return….but feel free to donate.

                                                           Shall we begin?

 

                                                    MENTAL ATTITUDES

          To feel great and avoid death, you must have a sign on the space above your bedroom door. The letters should be large especially if you’re nearsighted.  It should be written on a piece of thin cardboard, or paper, or right on the wall itself.  It should be done with lots of colors so use colored felt tip pens.  Do not inhale while doing it.  And the sign will say, “YOU HAVE A CHOICE TODAY.  YOU CAN BE HAPPY OR SAD.  IT IS UP TO YOU.  Do not write it in cursive.  It’s hard to read cursive, especially yours.  If you don’t have space above your door, or your neck hurts when you look up, then tape the sign to your eye level, so you can see it without difficulty.  Make a point to look at it when you get up in the morning to face the mirror and brush your teeth.  Bad breath can ruin the best of plans.

          So you say just putting up a sign won’t make you happy.  You say being happy is easier said then done?  Why?  Are you maxed out on credit cards and loaded with debts?  Perhaps a near relative has died, or your grown children are still living with you? Or did your spouse run away with your best friend leaving a note saying that living with you was the pits?  So how can you possibly be happy? 

                               Look at it this way….Will being sad help? 

           No matter what the situation, you can smile and be happy because YOU made a decision to be happy… and it didn’t cost you a cent because the best activities in life are free, and being happy is one of them.  How do you stay happy under adversity?  I give you an example.  When people cut you off in traffic, don’t get angry.  Pretend it’s your son or daughter driving by and giving you the finger.  Knowing it’s your children, you would more likely chuckle and say, “That’s my boy (or girl)”.  Smile when debt collectors pound on your door.  You know they are only hired help and have a rotten job. Put on earphones and ignore them. When you are told that there is no bonus this year and you’re on the lay off list, it translates to mean freedom and opportunities for new adventures.  Life is a point of view.  I am sure you can think of other extremes, so I’ll stop.  You are in control.  You have a choice to make.  Today, you will be happy or sad...  And chances are, you will.

           The next thing you must do for a positive mental attitude is to avoid STRESS.  Stress will make you sick; it will shorten your life, it will make you constipated, it will cause you to lose hair and itch in a dozen places (although scratching an itch can sometimes rival orgasms…so I’m told).  Stress is most often caused by confronting bigger people (bullies, bosses, your children) or by fate (like cancer, poverty, loss of job).  Avoid confronting people that are threatening.  How do you do that?  By avoiding the problem.  By running away. By hiding.  Retreat is no disgrace when longevity is at stake.  Ask any coward (have you notice, a lot of them grow to real old age?)

          What about fate?  Say to yourself that you are already deceased.  Being dead you don’t exist.  Nothing is expected of you.  Behaving in such a manner, pretending you’re invisible, people will think you’re crazy and avoid you, thus, having one less obstacle to contend with.  Being dead, you will experience a cascade of epiphanies.  You will experience the tremendous relief knowing that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, you thought you own, you don’t.  It was all RENTED.  All the awards, the prizes, the possessions you’ve accumulated over the years to ease your insecurities was just a bunch of steaming cow poop.  In that present nebulous form, you will come to the conclusion that you can’t take it with you, no matter how hard you try.  That avarice, pride and silly ambition was just a colossal waste of time.  You will morph into a better, much happier person, and all because you got up in the morning and saw a crudely lettered sign saying that cow poop might not be worth the bother. 

                                                                      DIETING

             There are some people I call “the terrible skinnies” because they can eat anything and not gain an ounce yet have heart attacks.  There are others I call Wal-Marters because they resemble the majority of people that patronizes Wal-Marts, (curvy and overweight).  Regardless of their appearance, these people have lived long and happy lives. Weight Watchers, Nutria system, the Atkins diet, South Beach diet, High Fat and High Protein diet are largely unsuccessful.  Why?  Because their object was NOT to live longer or be healthier, but to lose weight (and to make as much money off of you as possible)!  If you are overweight and unsightly, it’s the observer’s problem, not yours.  They’re the ones being judgmental, and you know what the Bible says about those people.  You no longer care what they think.  You are only interested in being happy, in being healthy, and living a long, long life, and you can do this by being narcissistic and seeing that all items entering your stomach will exit in the shortest time possible, which means eating a lot of fiber with…. 

          ….the most important item: water.  Eat lots of water.  It could be in the form of diet sodas, tea, beer, coffee, wine, milk, butter milk, or just plane tap.  They all contain water.  You may add packets of artificial sweeteners but stay away from sugar.  Drink, especially when you’re not thirsty.  Drink a full glass of liquid before you eat anything. Water will lubricate your joints and cleanse your entire system, and if you saw the inside of your intestines, you will agree, it definitely needs cleaning.  Nobody likes to be constipated…. except camels (they can hold it forever).

          Carrots: cooked or raw adds color to your plate. And you need color in your drab life.  Cook a whole bunch and keep it handy in the fridge for snacking.  You can never eat too much carrots…unless your skin begins to turn a bit yellow, then I would suggest you stop…for a while, anyway.  Ginger: put a quarter size in everything you eat.  Pound it with a hummer to soften it, then throw it in anything you’re cooking.  Eat it raw or dipped in artificial sweeteners.  Enough of it will do wonders for your skin, open your blood arteries, and cause your ears to ring. Ginger is the spice of life.  You are aware that they make beer and ale out of it? 

          Now, I know that most of you hate broccoli.  It takes a lot of preparation, but it is fine if you drink a lot of wine with it.  Take a bite, take a sip, and like Pavlov’s dogs, condition yourself into loving it . When you’re peeling the tough outer skin of the broccoli, pretend it’s somebody you hate and you’re slowly skinning it alive.  Hear the screams.  Peeling your victim would be revenge served cold.  Chop the broccoli in sections, put it in a casserole dish with a spoonful of water and a slice of ginger, and microwave it for three minutes and hear it scream some more.  See, no trouble at all.

          And the most important food you must have?  SOUP!  Soup is amazing, it’s so versatile. You can throw all kinds of vegetables and fruits into it (even bananas) and it will taste delicious. I mean, who doesn’t like soup?   And it is only good if it contains BEANS.  Lots of beans.  Any kind of beans.  Use a large crock pot.  Fill it with nine cups of water.  Throw in 2 cups of dried beans (any kind) that has been soaked.  Add 8 ounces of deboned chicken cut into small cubes.  Peel and slice eight medium size carrots, add an ounce of white dried fungus, throw it one whole slice onion, any left-over veggies, and turn the crock pot on high for eight hours.  Salt to taste.  When it’s cool down, add some MSG, ladle the soup into pint size plastic containers and shove them into the freezer.  Have hot soup at lunch, every day preferably with a glass of red beer and garlic French bread and Life will be good.

          There are other fine edibles that you can throw into the soup pot and is good for your health, or not, but too numerous to mention here so I won’t. 

 

                                                      PHYSICAL EXCERCISE

          You sit there, alone in your easy chair watching Netflex, or Hulu, or Acorn, or whatever.  You feel guilty because you’re munching on popcorn loaded with butter or crunching on that candy bar or chomping on a fried drumstick.  You sit there brooding because you have flabby underarms and you look like a pear.  You feel your life slipping away while you stare mesmerized at the neon tube.  You would like to be playing tennis or go swimming or do a round of golf, but you don’t, and I don’t blame you.  It is difficult leaving that cozy sofa and that very safe living room.  What to do?  How can you get off that snuggly sofa and bowl of popcorn.  You know you WILL die early at this rate……if things don’t drastically change. 

  
         Fortunately you are reading this blog and it has a simple solution.  No expensive equipment, no fitness club dues, no plunging into ice cold waters for a swim, no heavy lifting, no jogging, no….All you have to do is make a box at least eight inches high that will hold your weight.  Put it in front of the TV.  During commercials, step up and down on it.  Do it 150 times and you would have move your body weight up ten floors.  The fatter you are, the more weight you will be moving.  You will be huffing and puffing and in seventh heaven before you know it.  And when you’re finished, just shove the box under a chair or use it for a coffee table.  See how simple it all is?  Just that simple box will make you healthier and add decades, and I mean decades, to your life without moving away from your 55” Samsung or your cozy living room so near the kitchen. 

          And there you have it.  My entire program on how to live a long and healthy life.  Isn’t it simple?  And it didn’t cost you a dime...(although feel free to donate)

            To sum up…just do it.

                                                                                      Thank you.

 

        

 

     

        

     

                                              More Insights from Senator Bushton
This is the third in the series of interviews with the Independent candidate for the Presidency of the United States of America, the Junior Senator from Bumpkin, Maine, Senator William Bushton.

       
       As you have requested, Senator, we have informed the readers that none of these questions were given to you beforehand. Now, can we proceed with the interview?

       I HAVE NO PROBLUM WITH THAT.  FIRE AWAY!

        In an earlier statement, you mention a proposal for a free college education for those who qualify?  Could you expound on that?

       THIS IS ONLY TO COUNTER THE CORPERATE CONSPIRACY THAT IS RAISING THE COST OF COLLEGE BY NOT  PAYING MORE TAXES TO SUPPLIMENT HIGHER PUBLIC EDUCATION .  AT PRESENT, ONLY THE CHILDREN OF THE ELITE RICH AND THE UPPER MIDDLE CLASS  CAN REALLY AFFORD PUBLIC AND PRIVATE COLLEGES.

        Isn’t that a bit far fetching?  A corporate conspiracy to raise the cost of college?  To what end?

         IF THE COST OF COLLEGE IS TOO GREAT FOR THE AVERAGE HOUSEHOLD, WE WILL FALL SHORT OF HAVING COLLEGE GRADUATES TO FILL VACANT POSITIONS IN CORPORATE AMERICA.  WE WOULD, THEN, HAVE TO IMPORT TALENTED COLLEGE GRADUATES WHO RECEIVED A FREE EDUCATION FROM COUNTRIES WHO HAD TO PAY HIGHER TAXES TO GIVE THEM THAT FREE EDUCATION TO SERVICE US.  BY US, I MEAN OUR CORPERATIONS.  THESE FOREIGNERS COME OVER HERE TO WORK FOR US FOR A LOT LESS AND WE (MOSTLY THE RICH WE’S) WON'T HAVE TO RAISE OUR TAXES TO REPAIR OUR OWN EDUCATIONAL SHORTCOMINGS.  WE GOT THESE IMPORTED, HIGHLY TRAINED  PROFESSIONALS…FOR FREE.   NOT A BAD DEAL FOR  CORPERATIONS AND THE WEALTHY.

      I must admit that, in a crazy sort of way, it makes sense.  Now, another very important question…if elected president, what would be your solution to the problems of the Middle East?

        WHY?  IS THERE A PROBLEM?

        Of course there is.  There is civil war in Syria: hundreds of thousands of civilians are uprooted, dying, migrating to strange lands and being unwelcomed.  There is the infusion of Russian influence, the rise of ISIS, and the danger of anarchy spreading over the entire Middle East.  I would think we have a problem.

        LET ME REPHRASE THAT QUESTION.  WHY IS THAT A PROBLEM…FOR US?

      What do you mean?  Of course it’s a problem for us.

       NO, IT’S A PROBLEM FOR EUROPE, FOR RUSSIA, FOR CHINA, AND FOR THE ENTIRE MIDDLE EAST.  YOU FORGET, THEY ARE ALL, AS A LAND MASS, CONNECTED TOGETHER.  HISTORICALLY, CHINA IS NOT FRIENDLY WITH RUSSIA AND DISTRUST THEM MORE THAN US.  THEY DO NOT LIKE RUSSIA SPREADING THEIR INFLUENCE IN THE WORLD.  AND, WHEN GLOBAL WARMING BRINGS ON THE FAMINE, NORTH KOREA WILL HAVE TO FEED THEIR HUGE MILTARY…AND GUESS WHO THEY HAVE AS A COMMON BORDER AND A DESIRED BREAD BASKET.  NOT US.  YOU DON’T THINK AN OCEAN IS A LOGISTICAL NIGHT MARE?  ASK ANY MILITARY BUFF.  AND IF WE DON’T STAY OUT OF THE MIDDLE EAST, IT WILL BECOME OUR PROBLEM. 
     
        OUR PROBLEM IS THOSE SLIGHT-OF-HAND PEOPLE IN THE TOP 1% WHO WANTS TO DIVERT OUR ATTENTION FROM WHAT IS REALLY CONFRONTING OUR COUNTRY: HIGH POVERTY LEVEL, INEQUAILITY OF WEALTH, AND INFUSION OF DRUGS FROM SOUTH AMERICA.  THERE IS RACIAL TURMOIL THROUGHOUT THE LAND AND EXTREME UNDER EMPLOYMENT OF  MILLIONS WITH AN I.Q. UNDER 100, WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS HALF OF OUR POPULATION.  THAT IS OUR PROBLEM, NOT THE PROBLEMS OF THE MIDDLE EAST.

         What about Putin arming the Syrians and keeping Assad in power, and the possible confrontation with Russia?

        AS I HAVE MENTION EARLIER, HOW CAN THEY CONFRONT US IF WE’RE NOT THERE TO BE CONFRONTED?  ASSAD MAY BE BRUTAL BUT HAVEN’T WE TOLERATED WORST DICTATORS?   THINK STALIN, MAO, AND KIM JONG U.  TRUE, PUTIN IS RAISING RUSSIA’S INFLUENCE IN SYRIA, BUT AT WHAT COST?   HE IS BLEEDING HIS NATION DRY AND SPILLING THEIR BLOOD AND GUTS TO STABLILIZE THAT AREA AND WE SHOULD BE COMPLANING?  WE SHOULD GIVE HIM A MEDAL.  IF I’M ELECTED, THE FIRST THING I WOULD DO IS MEET THIS GUY BECAUSE I TRULY LIKE HIM.  HE IS CHARMING AND  WE WILL BE FRIENDS.  TOGETHER WE WILL PUT THE WORLD ETERNALLY AT PEACE BECAUSE WE HAVE LARGE AMOUNTS OF ATOMIC WEAPONS, AND IF THEY DON’T LISTEN, WE WILL HIT THEM…HARD         

      You truly believe this?

      YOU ARE SKECPTICAL?  WELL, I DON’T BLAME YOU, SEEING HOW NAÏVE YOU REPORTERS GENERALLY ARE.  LET ME FILL YOU IN.  WHEN BUSH JR. INVADED IRAQ, HE FORGOT ALL ABOUT THE LESSONS LEARNED FROM VIET NAM.  WELL, I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.  AND PUTTING AMERICAN  BOOTS ON THE GROUND TO DEFEAT ISIS WILL BE COSTLY.  THE WHOLE MIDDLE EAST WILL BE COSTLY…BUT NOT FOR US IF WE STAY OUT OF IT.  I SAY, LET US BE OBSERVERS, NOT PARTICIPANTS.  FOR US TO BE THERE IS A NO-WIN SITUATION.  WHEN THE DUST SETTLES, AND IT WILL, THEN WE MOVE IN TO THESE DEVASTATED AREAS AND TRY TO REBUILD WITH JOBS, EXPORTS, AND A SOUND, DEMOCRATIC GOVERNMENT BACKED BY GOOD, SOLID AMERICAN SOLDIERS.  WHAT COULD BE BETTER?  MAKES SENSE, NO?   IF I’M ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THESE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, I WILL CONVINCE THE AMERICAN PUBLIC TO SEE THE VIRTUE OF THIS STRATEGY AND WE WILL ALL BE THE BENIFICIARY OF, WHAT I WOULD TERM, “THE BUSHTON POLICY”.

        Your simplistic solutions to complex problems sound a lot like that of another conservative candidate for the presidency.  And I am referring to a certain owner of a hotel chain.

        ARE YOU REFERRING TO DONALD TRUMP?  YOU KNOW, HE IS JUST LIKE ME, A NO NONSENSE GUY WHO WILL GET THE JOB DONE..ALTHOUGH,  MAKING MONEY IS THE ONLY THING HE IS GOOD AT, REALLY.  IF I’M ELECTED, I WILL MAKE HIM SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY. 

       Speaking of money, Senator, what is your tax plan if you’re elected?

       I’M GLAD YOU ASK.  I WILL SIMPLIFY THE TAX CODE. ANNUAL INCOME OF CORPORATIONS AND INDIVIDUAL OVER A MILLION DOLLARS WILL BE TAXED AT 50%.  ANYTHING OVER A HUNDRED THOUSAND WILL BE TAXED AT 25%.  THOSE MAKING HALF OF THAT, 15%.  ANY BODY MAKING LESS SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO LIVE IN THIS GREAT COUNTRY OF OURS AND WILL BE EXILED...BY FORCE, IF NECESSARY.

       Now, I know you’re kidding.

      AM I?

      What about capital gains and deductions for charity giving?

       WE DON’T GO DOWN THAT ROAD.

        Won’t there be quite a bit of opposition to that proposal from the top 1%?

        MOST OF THE TOP 1% ARE PARASITES.  THEY INHERITED THEIR GREAT FORTUNES AND DID LITTLE TO EARN IT.  WE NEED STRONG LEADERS WHO ARE NOT AFRAID OF THEM, WHO WILL RAISE TAXES ON THESE PARASITES AND ELIVIATE POVERTY AND INEQUALITY.  WHAT THIS NATION NEEDS IS FIRM LEADERSHIP AND THAT IS WHAT I WILL DO, IF I’M ELECTED… TO LEAD…FIRMLY      

              And by the way, where do you get your figures from?

       HERE AND THERE, SOME I MADE UP ON THE WAY.  IF TRUMP CAN DO IT, SO CAN I.

        What is your position on immigration?

        I LOVE ALL IMMIGRANTS, ESPECIALLY MEXICANS AND ORIENTALS, WHO I THINK ARE TRUSTWORTHY AND HARD WORKING.  I HAVE THREE OF THEM WORKING AT MY HOME RIGHT NOW.  I HAVE A CHINESE NANNY FOR MY KIDS, MY HOUSEKEEPER IS A MEXICAN-AMERICAN, AND SO IS MY GARDENER.  FINE PEOPLE, ALL OF THEM, AND, OH, AND I MUST INCLUDE THE MEXICANS WHO JUST RECENTLY INSTALLED MY ROOF AND DUG THE TRENCHES FOR THE NEW SEWER LINE TO MY HOUSE…        

Were all the people working on your roof and sewer line, Espanics?

        HMMM..I THINK SO.  I LIKE THOSE WORKERS BECAUSE THEY NEVER COMPLAIN ABOUT THE LOW PAY OR THE HARD WORK.  MY CHINESE NANNY, FOR INSTANCE, DOES COOKING FOR US, ON THE SIDE, AND NEVER COMPLAINS ABOUT THE EXTRA UNPAID HOURS.  MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE SHE HARDLY SPEAKS ENGLISH?  I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW.  THOSE PEOPLE ARE SO OBEDIENT.  OF COURSE, ANY LEFT OVERS, WE LET HER TAKE HOME TO HER FAMILY.

        Are those people employed by you, in this country legally?

         OF COURSE THEY ARE…UH…I THINK SO...I HAVE NO IDEA.  I ADVERTISED IN THE DAILY PAPERS AND THEY SHOWED UP, PRESUMEABLY LEGAL AND MORE THAN WILLING.  BESIDES, MY WIFE TAKES CARE OF ALL THAT.  I GIVE PEOPLE BADLY NEEDED EMPLOYMENT.  NON-MINORITIES ALSO APPLIED BUT THEY DIDN’T EXPRESS MUCH ENTHUSASIM.  I THINK THEY WERE OFFENDED AT THE SALARY OFFERED.   I THOUGHT IT WAS MORE THAN FAIR.

       Then you are for immigration policy as it is now stands?  And would you be for illegals having their children here for citizenship purposes only?

        SURE, WHY NOT?  WE GOT TONS OF ROOM.  WE HAVE A FEW BAD APPLES IN THAT GROUP, I’M SURE, BUT THEN, WE HAVE A LOT OF BAD APPLES THAT DECENDED FROM THOSE IMMIGRANT PARENTS THAT LANDED ON PLYMOUTH ROCK AWHILE BACK.   I DON’T SEE TOO MANY OF US COMPLAINING ABOUT THEM.  BESIDES, WHAT WITH OUR HORRENDOUS DIVORCE AND LOW BIRTH RATES, WE COULD USE NEW BLOOD IN THIS COUNTRY OF OURS.

         I cannot comment on that.  I’m only a reporter.  I know it’s been a very long day for you, Senator Bushton, so here is my last question, which is politically innocuous for you to answer.  The question is, what do you consider the most important invention of the 20^th century?

      INDOOR PLUMBING. 

      Thank you again, senator, for your thoughtful insights. 

 

      

      

        

 



     



  



     .

     



    



     

        













 

A Perfect Cup of Tea

 

                                                          A Perfect Cup of tea

 
       She was getting old.  Samantha was nearing sixty years of age when she collapsed on the cushions of an overly ornate sofa.  It was a well deserved rest from house cleaning all day.  She surveyed the room and happened to glance upwards.  Cobwebs were hanging obtrusively from the corbels and moldings of the ceiling.  How could she have missed that!  Abruptly, she struggled out of her prone position, braced her aching hip, and navigated toward a broom closet.  She took out a long handle duster and began sweeping the ceiling in slow, lengthy arcs.  She felt angry that she had not caught this provincial housekeeping error sooner.  Her younger sister would be arriving soon, and she would hate greeting her wearing an apron.  That would reinforce the low self-esteem presumption of another flaw in her character.  And that would have been unacceptable.  

        Her husband, John, will not be on the welcoming committee.  They separated three years ago and have yet to file for a divorce.  It seemed ridiculous to get divorced when both had no intention of remarrying,  They had no children, so what little they possessed would eventually be consumed by nursing homes anyway.  Neither one was against separating, so John graciously left without comment.  She has done little house cleaning since. 

        Pity, it took away the one thing she thought she did better than her sister, who was never married.  Since John’s departure, Samantha had gradually became despondent and have left things alone, like the spiders weaving its webs in nooks and crannies, or the black mole growing fuzzily along the window sills, or the dust settling everywhere.  Perhaps it was out of spite to let the place decay.  It wasn’t that she missed John.  It was his inattention that she missed.  It was no longer there to justify her fervent self-righteousness.

       The front yard was a mangled growth of green and brown, and the façade of the house was in genteel decline.  One day, she received a notification from the city asking her to clean up the front property or be cited.  A gardener was hired just for the day and she had to haggle over price.  She hated that.  To haggle was a reminder that she lived on a very limited income.  She has always lived on a very limited income and she hated that too.  John wasn't much of a provider.  But then, she wasn't much of a housekeeper.

        Her sister, Michelle, did not live on a limited income.  No sir. Three years younger and “Mike”, as she was called, was the lucky one, the prettier one, the popular one.  “Sam” and “Mike” were the nicknames given by a father disappointed in having sired only daughters.  When Michelle was born, Samantha was asked if she would welcome this newcomer into the family.  “No, I hate her,” was her reply.  Samantha felt the beginning of a subtle distancing from her parents that grew as the years passed.  No, Michelle was the Apple.  And Samantha was the core.

       The dull sound of an automobile door closing startled Samantha from her reverie.  She quickly took off her apron and shoved it beneath the cushions.  Pushing the white wooden shutters aside, she peeked out.  A smartly dressed, middle aged, woman stood beside an expensive looking car.  The woman looked at the house as if gauging the amount paid and the resale value.  Hesitating for just a moment, the woman held her hat and, with her head down, headed for the front door.  It opened and a smiling face appeared.

        “Mike, oh, it’s so good to see you.  I’m so glad you’re here.” And they both gave each other a hug.  Michelle was much the taller of the two.

        “Sam, what a charming place this is.   I just don’t believe it.  You know, I’ve never been here.  You just look amazing.  You haven’t aged a bit.  Oh, how long has it been…?” They mutually hugged again and she crossed the threshold.  While pulling off her gloves, she inspected the interior and stepped into what she presumed was the family room.  She gingerly sat on the overly ornate sofa and set aside her black veiled hat.  She fluffed her hair nervously. 

       “Sixteen years.” said Samantha.

       “What?” replied Michelle, puzzled.

       “You asked how long has it been…and I said sixteen years.” And Samantha slowly sat down across from her.

       “Has it been that long?  My God, how time flies.  But I can see you’ve done well for yourself.” She arched her neck, looked around, and again inspected the room.  "The last time I saw you, John was struggling with his….what, an accounting business, and you were both living in that god awful duplex?  Lucky mom was your landlord.  Of course, I didn’t envy you with her living next door, but at least you didn’t have to pay rent.  You didn’t, did you?”

       “No…but I had rather paid the rent and lived elsewhere.”

       “I’m with you there, sis.  She was a handful.  Sorry I couldn’t have been more help.  But what with the real estate market the way it is…well, I didn’t have two minutes to rub together.   Mom got my letters, right?  I just don’t know why she never cash the checks I sent.”

       “You sent checks?”

       “Well…yes.  I guess she didn't tell you?   I thought as much.  I was...uh, doing very well financially and I thought she could use the extra money.  But I guess she didn’t.  Forget that, I’m just so happy to see you.  I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it to mom’s bedside.  Was it hard? Did she suffer much?”

       “You mean her dying?” asked Samantha.  Michelle nodded.  Samantha thought for a moment, “Can’t really say, but I suffered a lot just watching her.  The dying went slow; I mean it wasn’t quick like dad’s.”

       “Yea, one day out running, next day in a pine box, that was dad, alright” agreed Michelle.  “When you told me about mom, I thought she would be going that same route and not hang around as long as she did.   She was such a tough old...well, anyway, I should’ve come immediately.  I had no idea the cancer would spread so slowly and then go so quickly, but I was right in the middle…”

       “It’s just real estate,” interrupted Samantha, annoyingly. “You should've been here.  What would you have lost, huh, Mike? Commissions on a two bedroom suburbia, or a fixer upper with possibilities?  You could have, at least, called and talked to her.” She shut her eyes and tightened her lips.  Then she held up her hand, “No, no, please forgive me. I don't really mean that.  It’s been a tough week.  I’m just glad you’re here.  I really am,” and Samantha reached over and touched her sister’s arm. “The funeral arrangements are being taken care of….and the services will be in the morning.  If I ride with you, I could show you how to get there.  You are staying here for the night, aren't you?  I wish you would.  I’ve got a room all prepared.”

       “It’s not where mom…?

        “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, no.  You’ve got John’s old bedroom.”

       Samantha rose from her chair and followed Michelle who went outside to the trunk of her car, pushed aside some of her for sale placards and sold signs, and produced her night bag.  "You drove all the way?" asked Samantha. "Why didn't you fly?  It's what?  Three hundred miles?"

      "I had a lot on my mind, Sam.  I though the drive would do me good."

      Samantha showed her sister the way to a room and communal bath.  She parceled out some towels to Michelle and said it was all one hundred percent cotton.  She showed her the toilet, with directions on how to hold down the lever so it flushes properly.  Michelle inspected the room and saw the twin bed, “That’s right, you two weren't sleeping together.  Sorry to hear about the separation.  Any chance of you and John getting back together again?  Not that it’s any of my business.”

       “No, thirty six years was enough, I'm afraid.  And living with mom wasn’t easy for either of us…To be honest, it just wasn’t easy for me.  I don't think it bothered John at all.  I think he really enjoyed her company.  Mom could put up such a front with people.  She could be so pleasant when she wants to be, especially with men.  The way she behaved in front of John, you wouldn’t believe it's the same person.  In case you’re wondering, mom was definitely not the cause of our breakup.”

       Michelle was silent for a moment.  Then she said, “It was a multi-million dollar deal...on a shopping mall.  My commission would’ve been three percent.”

       “Oh, is that the deal you were right in the middle of?  Well.  I guess it's as good an excuse as any.  Knowing you, the money would’ve been pretty hard to pass up.  I know, damn well, I wouldn't have.  Did you close?”

       “No, they had second thoughts.  I’m still pissed thinking of the time wasted, or where I might have gone wrong in my presentation.  But that’s under the bridge.  The important thing is I wasn’t here for you.  You had to do all this by yourself.”

       “I wasn’t doing it by myself.  John helped.  He came over and did most of the arrangements, contacting the insurance company and the mortuary, all that sort of details.  No, John was a big help. He's always been a big help.” They both came down the staircase and entered the kitchen. “Have you had dinner?  Would you like some coffee or tea?” asked Samantha.

       “Then why, after all this time, why the separation?  Why not just stick it out?  Last I remember, John was a pretty nice guy.  Good looking, too.  And, no, I had dinner before I drove up, but tea would be fine…..He didn’t beat you, did he?  Jesus, after thirty six years being together, everything should've been smoothed out between any married couples, even between enemies,”

       “You would think.”  Samantha paused for a long moment.  Then said, “I guess we just lost interest in each other, and got bored.  It happened so gradually that we didn’t see it coming.  There were days when we hardly spoke.  We even reached a point where we were avoiding each other, and felt embarrassed when we were sitting together in the same room.  In fact, I think the only reason John stayed as long as he did was because of mother.  Strange, isn’t it.  He got along better with mom than with me.  Okay, the water’s boiling.  Will Earl Grey do…with a lemon vodka?”

       They both laughed.  Michelle fingered a spoon and began lightly tapping it against the tea cup.  Then she said, “I still remember the first day you slip me that concoction.  It was my birthday and you wanted to get me in trouble with mom and dad.  I was only twelve.  I remember, it was right after I blew out the candles and cut the cake.  You took me aside when the folks were busy, and poured me a full mug of tea.  You said it was a magic potion, and I would feel wonderful after drinking it.  I trusted you because you were my older sister.  But you were right on both counts.  It was magical, and mom smelled it on my breath and grounded me.”

       “And I said you would feel wonderful and you did!" said Samantha. "You even stuck your tongue out at dad and he slapped you…and you didn’t care.  Here, Mike, let me spice it up some more with my secret ingredient.”

       “And what would that be?”

       “Gin,” shouted Samantha with a flourish.

       “Now that, truly, would be a perfect cup of tea,” said Michelle.   And they both sat at the kitchen table sipping tea until the pot was empty.  Then they made more tea, deciding that no one was driving anywhere that night and the tea seemed to make connections a little easier.
 

       “Are there any expensive I could help you out with, Sam?  My share of the cost?”  Michelle reached for her purse that was lying on the counter and knocked it to the floor.

       “No, no, mom had this insurance policy that she’s kept active, for God knows how long.  It would just about cover everything.  Do you know that the last thing on her mind was that damn insurance policy?  No, really.  She was so afraid that I would forget it, even when she was on the verge of dying.  That was all she talked about.”  Samantha paused, and took a breath.  “Nothing about loving you, nothing about loving me, nothing about God, nothing about dad...just a goddamn insurance policy she’s been paying for, for God knows how long."  She stopped for a moment, and then said, "She did have a lot of pain killers in her... a lot.  But I know she was conscious of what she was saying.”

       “Well, that's mom for you.” said Michelle, on the floor, picking up items dropped out of her purse and feeling a bit inebriated, “Devious to the end, no matter what.  That was her defense mechanism, to misdirect, to belittle us even in her death bed.  You know, of course, what she was trying to do?”  Samantha looked puzzle.  Michelle continued, ”Oh, come on…why do you think I'm not around to visit when she was still alive?  She’s always judging me and subtly putting me down as if I wasn’t deserving.  She played us both against each other just so we don't stop trying to please her.  I bet she treated those checks I sent her as oblations to her ungodly motherhood, and I bet that's why she never cashed them.  It was her way of saying she didn't need me, and thanks all the same, and fuck you.  She constantly hinted that she was in better hands, more loving hands, than mine...…

       “I don’t believe it!” said Samantha.  “ Mom always favored you over me.  Even dad said you were the apple of his eye, right in front of me he said it.  Right in front of me.  You always had the new dresses.  I had the hand-me-downs.  You were always being fretted upon, and I remember mom rocking you to sleep every night...every night.  I remember when we moved to the bigger house, and the bedroom with the window facing north, it was the best room in the house…and they gave it to you.  They gave it to you, and I was the older one.  I should’ve gotten it, but, no, they didn't think of me.  They thought of you first.” She began to sniffle.

       Michelle rolled her eyes and said, quietly, “First off, you had the hand-me-downs because you were a lot smaller, and the clothes fitted you just fine after I grew out of them.  As for the bedroom, well, you might think it was the better room, but did you know that the windows never could shut properly, and the north wind blew against it constantly?  It caused a god-damned freezing draft that circulated around the floor forever.  I had nothing but cold feet half my adolescent years.  I was sick all the time because of it.  That is why I got all that attention.  I was always sick!…and you know what?  Mom kept saying that she wished I was as healthy as you and how perfect you turned out to be.  So, please, don’t tell me I’m her favorite……God!"

     There was a long pause as they both stared at their tea cups.  Breaking the silence, Michelle continued, "Well, here we are, two middle age old biddies sniping at each other.  Look at us. Our minds still poisoned by things that took place, what, forty to fifty years ago?   Things fostered on us by our own well-meaning parents.   Will we ever grow up?  Funny, isn't it?  She's still making us feel guilty even after she's dead.  Mom was so manipulative.  Speaking as a professional, I have to admire her for that.”

        Michelle looked at her sister as if waiting to hear if she had any revealing incidents to add to  their past acrimonious relationship.  When none seemed to be forthcoming, she declared, “Well, mom’s gone and we’re what’s left.  Let's say the past is the past, and let it be buried with mom.  We can drink to that, can't we?”  They clinked their tea cups together.  They were relaxed now; the tensions of first meeting were dissipating down their spines.  They drank some more cups of laced tea and, after a few more verbal exchanges, it hit a lull.   They became pensive and decided they should call it a day.  That night Samantha did not hear any snoring coming from Michelle's room, and was sorely disappointed by that.   John and her mother snored a lot.

       After morning breakfast and small talk, they drove to the church where several dozen people were congregating.  John, wearing a proper black suit and serious demeanor, was there to greet them.  After introductions, services were brief, followed by the few mourners paying their respect.  Then they drove to the cemetery following the hearse.  Again, prayers were offered and, after a decent modicum of time, the small group dispersed.  That was the end of that, thought Samantha. 

      By mid-noon the sisters were back at the house and Michelle was packed up and ready to leave.  Standing there on the foyer, she glanced around the hallway and said, “Well, I guess we won’t be seeing each other again for awhile."  She got into her car, started the engine, and rolled down the window.  Poking her head out, she yelled, "You've got more free time, now that mom's gone.  You should come out to visit.  Really, you should.  My cat is dying to meet you.”
 

       “I was never keen on pets,” replied Samantha.  And they waved each other off.

 

 

 

 

       
 

 

     

  

 

     

     

 

     

 

      

 

 

 

     

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

A Portrait for Christmas

 

                                                  A Portrait for Christmas
      The scene is downtown Jerusalem in the year 28 A.D.  Portrait artist, Julius Piso greets a customer who has just entered his studio…..

    

       “Greetings, Peter, and what brings you on this day of the winter solstice?  Surely you have no complaints about the portrait I did of your fishing boat?  You must understand, the boat did bobble up and down a bit, especially during the shifting of the tides…..you have no complaints?  You think I did a fine job?   Well then, what can I do for you? Yes, I’m free.  You want a small size portrait done of a man, and it’s to be a birthday present?  No problem.  When can he come in for a sitting...oh?  It’s to be a surprise?  But I have to see him in order to...You’re going to describe him for me? That might work.

       “Let us begin with his height, how tall is he? Taller than a mountain…uh, we’ll just let that go for the moment.  Now, what kind of toga do you want painted on him?  I will furnish the costume, I’ve got the latest fashions from Greece…you want it simple and plain?  Do you know how hard it is to paint simple and plain?  The toga will appear flat. If there are no designs or patterns it will lay flat and uninteresting.  He doesn’t care?  Okay, flat and drab it is. 

       “Now, give me a general description of the man, and please,  don’t say he’s taller than a mountain. No…wise beyond his years doesn’t help either.  I need to know the color of his skin, his eyes, his hair; his approximate age, does he have high cheek bones, is he short or tall, fat or thin, is his face broad or narrow?...You never noticed? I thought you said he was a friend of yours?  

       “Is he a fellow fisherman? No?  A fish monger, perhaps?  No? A carpenter you say…but-he-doesn’t-do-carpentry-work-any-more.  Well then, what does he do? He stands on top of a hill and does lectures? On what?  How-to-be-kind to-your-neighbors-and-love-one-another? That’s his shtick, huh?  My advice, Peter, being a friend to such a man…in these times can be dangerous to you and your family.

       “No offense, Peter, but am I going to be paid for this?  Yes, cash would be fine.  Now, can we get back to describing him? He has a great smile? I shouldn’t wonder. He radiates love and kindness?  I can’t paint radiance; the best I can do is a halo over his head.  Yes, it’s a symbol of purity, and if you want, I’ll add it with no charge.  He must be a very special friend.  Oh, he’s everybody’s special friend? 

       “Tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll just paint a perfect face and you can put in the corrections. Don’t think it’ll need any? Well, great. By the way, what‘s his first name?  What a coincidence, my nephew is also named Jesus, small world, but then again, it’s quite a popular name these days.

       “Now then, if there’s nothing else, it should be ready by the 25^th.  That’s the date you wanted it, right?  Nice doing business with you, Peter.  And by the way, have a very, very MERRY CHRISTMAS! ….No, I have absolutely no idea why I said that!!...No, I don’t know what it means either.  But, just in case somebody’s listening, hail Tiberius, our beloved Emperor, conquer of the Goths, the Jews, and anybody else in between.