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#42 Rage

Tim was always a little bit of a loser. Not that anyone ever called him that. Most people referred to him as ‘meek’, ‘mild’, or ‘reserved’. All of those meant that he wasn’t exactly known to be the life of the party, the outgoing guy everyone wants to hang with, or the man you’d most like to stick up for you in a fight (verbal or physical). Tim existed most days, and lived on rare opportunities.

One day, as he was walking home, a man walked by a bit too close and pushed into him. The man hadn’t done it intentionally – it was a crowded sidewalk and he’d simply moved a few centimeters to the right when he shouldn’t have. But because the man was taller than Tim, and bigger, the push happened to sting a bit, physically. Tim’s emotions had long ago been stung by society, so it wasn’t really any sort of emotional reaction he felt. He did, however, become angry when he realized that the man had made no attempt at apologizing. No small “oh – sorry” or “pardon me” had occurred. The man simply walked along as if nothing had happened, no doubt wondering why his arm felt slightly warmer than it had before. No pain though, so no stopping.

Tim slunk down into his seat on the bus, thinking about the incident. For some reason, it began to make him madder and madder at every stuttering stop and start that the bus made. Finally after 20 blocks or so, Tim was livid and angry to a point that he’d never been before. It wasn’t just Mr. Push-you-over-guy, it was his whole life. It was the fact that he had a low paying job and couldn’t afford a car. It was the fact that his managers regularly promoted others below him to above him, citing vague reasons. It was all of those things. So when the bus lurched one more time, Tim decided not to stop his fist from tapping against the window next to him. In fact, he accelerated it’s arrival.

That’s when the most amazing thing happened. Tim slammed his hand up against the window. But rather than the window pushing back, it began to crack. A long, deep gash began to spread up the window, spidering out into smaller veins of brokenness, until a few moments later, the window shattered, with pieces of glass covering Tim and the seats around him.

The bus driver pulled over, and since the bus was fairly empty, Tim simply told him that he’d been thrown into the window by a sudden stop, and it cracked and shattered. The bus driver called for paramedics, to look Tim over, and within a few moments various cars began to pull up.

Months later, Tim received a check from the city. Seems that if a bus shatters you with glass, prompting you to receive stitches, miss work due to injuries, and subsequently be ‘let go’ because you missed a few days, the city rewards you with several thousand dollars. Of course some of that went to his attorney, but he still sat with a somewhat large chunk of change. Within a few weeks he’d found another job, and life went back very much to the way it had been before the bus incident.

Then one day, Tim saw the man who had pushed him, walking along the street. The rage he felt from that day became more pronounced as they neared each other. Finally Tim was going to stand up for himself. As the man approached, Tim boldly crossed into his path. The man, however, didn’t notice Tim and again pushed past him. Harder this time. So Tim reached down and grabbed a rock, spinning and throwing it at the man. The rock landed well shy and bounced along the ground, while passersby wondered why Tim had thrown it. Enraged, Tim ran to catch up with the man. But even cursing at him on the loud city street did nothing – the noise of the cars and the man’s earbuds killed any effect it would have had.

Moral of the story: Sometimes violence solves problems. Most of the time, it doesn’t.

[SSDay]

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#41 A Letter To The Eager Train Lady

Dear Lady,

I try to see the good in every one, giving the benefit of the doubt. But you defy my logic skills – I simply can’t figure you out! You push your way into the spot, closest to the door, as if the extra inches you gain, increase your experience score. I sometimes find myself tempted, on days you seem most high strung, to place myself between you and the door, proverbially sticking out my tongue.

But maybe you have your reasons, I can’t say I’ve ever inquired. You might have been left behind as a child, abandoned and forgotten, a lifelong compulsion thus inspired. Or maybe you think the doors will close quickly, as they are sometimes apt to do, and the usual conductor will judge you sickly, and to the next station carry you.

Finally, you might just be rude.

But then again, I try to see the good in everyone.

Sincerely,

The big guy in the black coat.

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#40 The Big 4 Oh

“OMG” is what he said
upon realization
That he had written and read
almost 40 dramatizations

“WTF” is what he said
upon rationalization
That #40 rattling around his head
needed justfication.

“LOL” is what he said
upon interpretation
That #40 might be led
to excessive clairification

“It’s just an odd poem, OK man” is what he said.
submitted for your validation!

[SSDay]

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#39 The Teddy Bear

“Come on Nicki, time for bed”, Nicki’s mother called out from the top of the stairs. Her reluctant daughter slowly dragged herself up the seemingly endless stairs. She didn’t want to go to bed, but she felt tired, so she resigned herself to the fact that Mom was to be obeyed. Mom was tired too. It wasn’t yet 9 PM but it might as well have been midnight. Long days are common for single moms.

Nicki’s mom tucked her daughter into the bed, and watched as Nicki grabbed her big fluffy teddy bear, Cuddly Joe, from his usual resting place on the pillow next to her. Cuddly Joe had been with Nicki through a lot – illnesses, the divorce, and moving from place to place. Nicki couldn’t sleep without Cuddly Joe, and at her age, Nicki’s mom was a long way off of suggesting her daughter ditch the bear. If it gave her a sense of security, then it was worth the hassle of toting it everywhere they went overnight.

“Mommy”, Nicki called out, “Cuddly Joe smells funny!”.

“What do you mean honey?”, her mother said wearily.

“He doesn’t smell like he’s ‘asposed to”, Nicki said adamantly.

“Honey, maybe he needs washing, or it’s just your imagination”, her mother said reassuringly, “We can figure it out in the morning.”.

“NO”, Nicki said, “He doesn’t smell right, and I can’t go to sleep until he does”.

Nicki’s mom knew that her daughter wouldn’t go quietly on this issue. When Nicki decided to pick a fight about her stuffed animals (or her stuff in general), she seldom gave in.

“Nicki honey, Cuddly Joe might just need a bath, or maybe it’s another smell from the day you’re smelling. Mommy can fix it tomorrow, but tonight we’re both tired, we should just get some rest. We’ll work it out in the morning”, her mother said to the child.

“NO”, Nicki said again,”It aint right”.

So Nicki’s mother spent another few minutes rationalizing to her daughter that things would be OK and that Cuddly Joe was fine, the world was fine, and everything could be fixed in the morning. At the end, she concluded with a strongly worded “Goodnight”. Nicki said nothing.

Turning on a small lamp, Nicki’s mom could see her asleep in the bed. “That was easier than usual”, she thought to herself. She left the room and started toward her own bedroom. It was weird that Nicki would find Cuddly Joe smelling different – she never complained about that before. Nicki would often smell Cuddly Joe to reassure herself at night, but never complained. Oh well, they were just so tired tonight, perhaps her daughter was acting a bit loopy.

Nicki’s mom found herself sitting in an old rocking chair that normally served it’s purpose of holding a pile of laundry, not rocking. How did she end up here? She started feeling sick, and all at once the pieces fell together.

—

A few hours later she woke up in the ER. Upon seeing her eyes light up, the nurse attending to her quickly told her exactly what she wanted to know.

“Mrs. Smith, don’t worry – you’re going to be fine, so is your daughter. It was a close one, but you managed to get yourself and her out of the house just in time. A neighbor of yours was jogging by and noticed you. He called 911. Any longer in there and that leak would have been… fatal”.

Nicki’s mom felt a shock of relief come over her. A few hours later they wheeled her next to Nicki’s bed, where Nicki lay sleeping. Her vital signs were good, there was no brain damage due to the lack of oxygen, and right next to her in the hospital bed was Cuddly Joe.

[SSDay]

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#38 Brussel Sprouts

I like them, she doesn’t
I pretend they’re little green heads
she believes they are vegetable horrors
Why the hate?

Author’s Note: Short and sweet tonight – just like my wife who has agreed to try cooking Brussel sprouts for the first time since we’ve been together. She’s got an incredibly complex recipe for them, but hey, in the end I get my sprouts and she gets to pretend they aren’t vegetables. She was happy to find out they grow on stalks though. I was unimpressed.

[SSDay]

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#37 What If

What if in the moment that we die, death arrives
offering us the opportunity to stay in that second
for as long as we like.
How long do we stay behind?

What if we’re not waiting for the next big thing.
We’re in the next big thing, and won’t realize it
until the little things return.
Will we be happy with our actions?

What if time is more subjective than we believe, and
the only thing holding us back is
our own expectations?
Can we find the secret to controling it’s pace?

What if the meaningless conversations we have,
are actually the most important ones
we will ever have with another human.
Would we appreciate them more?

What if we’re only supposed to enjoy life,
our plan is not to conquer or accomplish.
Our plan is to simply exist.
Could we handle that reality?

What if my victory is really a defeat to 1,000
and the victories of 1,000 are only a small setback
to me.
How would I live with myself?

What if your life can’t be measured by any number
but only by a thought, emotion, or mood.
Of those around you.
What is your rating?

[SSDay]

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#36 Underdog

Perpetually Underfoot
Academic Underachiever
Appearing Undernourished
Not really Underweight

Seemingly Undervalued
Seldom Underperforms
Could be Underrated
Not really Under attack

Protector Underemployed
Table Undersecretary
Emotionally Underage
Head Underarm

Beloved Underdog

[SSDay]

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#35 Limited Time Offer

Joe was a good man. He went out of his way to help others, did mitzvot, and tried to live his life according to scripture.

One night, about 1 AM, he sat reclined in his chair watching television. He’d been doing that a lot lately, as his run of luck hadn’t quite been so good. Work was slow, his son, Mordechai, had fallen into a group of teens he wasn’t too fond of, and his mamma had been in the hospital for several days recovering from an infection. Joe had seen worse times, he was sure, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember when.

He’d almost fallen asleep when he heard the booming voice come out of the TV.

“Limited Time Offer Joe!”, it announced. Hearing his name, Joe opened his eyes and saw that the picture, normally a bit choppy, was crystal clear. Standing before him was a man dressed in a white tuxedo, smiling.

“No Joe, you’re not asleep – this isn’t a dream – it’s the offer of a lifetime! Your lifetime!”, the man said with a sincere smile.

Joe was speechless. His television was talking to him! He was certain he was asleep.

“I told you Joe, you’re not sleeping!”, the man said. Joe mustered up the courage to speak.

“If I’m not sleeping, then how do you know my name? Is this some sort of joke?”, Joe said. He looked around the room for any cameras that might be pointed at him, but he found none in the small living room.

“I know everyone’s name Joe”, the man responded, “And I don’t play jokes, you know that”. Joe was shocked. A man who knows everyone’s name, doesn’t play jokes, wears white, and can talk to one through their television set. Joe was speechless.

“Yes Joe, I have many names, and much to offer you”, the man said. He looked at Joe as someone looking at an old friend. “Times are tough, and I know you just want to do what is right for yourself, your family, and your community, Joe”, the man said. “And that’s all I want for you as well. I came here tonight to offer my help”.

Joe was still having a hard time putting together words, but could sense that the man could somehow read his mind. The man waited a moment, smiled, and began.

“But Joe, this is a limited time offer – I’ve come here tonight to help you and, if you want, give you a tremendous gift, but you’ll need to start speaking if you want to accept it”. Joe listened carefully, and realized he would need to string together another sentence.

“I’m listening, and I’m open to your gift”, Joe said, proud of himself that he’d gotten two thoughts out in one sentence.

“Joe, I know you want to help people, and sometimes, you don’t know how. Take Mordechai for example”, the man said as he sat down in a chair, a table next to it had a picture of Moredechai, framed, sitting on it. The picture was from when he was younger, and not as troubled. Joe was happy to see the picture, it brought back happy memories.

“Moredechai has been through a lot lately Joe, and he doesn’t even know what he wants in life. But the gift I have to offer to you today could help him – it could help everyone, and you’ll be the instrument of my aid”, the man proclaimed. “Joe, I want to give you the ability to know a man’s wants and desires just by looking at them”. The man stopped, letting the words slip into Joe’s mind.

“Know what they want?”, Joe replied, meekly.

“Yes”, said the man, “Even if they don’t know what they want, you can help them discover it, help your fellow man!”.

Joe sat there for a moment and pondered. The man adjusted his position in the chair and as he waited, looked to the side of the screen.

“Joe – I’m going to go attend to another matter for a moment, think about what I’m offering”, the man said as he walked off the screen. Joe could hear muffle voices to the side, the man asking another person something about Joe. But Joe couldn’t make out the reply. The man came back into frame with a renewed vigor.

“Joe, like I said, this is a limited time offer”, he said with a smile.

“I don’t mean to disrespect you”, Joe began, “But I don’t want to take your offer”.

The man stood there for a moment, and then softened his face and spoke.

“I know it’s a big responsibility Joe, but think of the people you can help. You can give up working in an area where work is scarce and do good works by helping others”, he said. “I know you just want to help others, and this is how you can do it.”

Joe could sense the man’s disappointment. He knew that he was being given a once-in-his-lifetime offer, and he did want to help his fellow man. But something nagged at him, and he had no idea what it was. Was it responsibility, as the man suggested, or something else. Joe was unsure, and the man could sense it.

“Joe, I don’t want to rush you”, the man said, “I just know that you’ve been a faithful servant – through thick and thin, good and bad, and I want to reward you for that”. The man sat in his chair once more. This time the picture in the frame changed from Mordechai to Mamma, when she was younger, healthier.

“Soon your Mamma will be coming home”, the man said, “to her home above. You could use your gift to make her last earthly dreams come true. I know you have the power to use your gift wisely, and that you won’t use it for foolish purposes. What do you say Joe?” The man waited for a reply.

“What about those beyond help?”, Joe said.

“What do you mean, Joe?”, the man asked.

“What about those who have wants that I can’t fulfill. Those who want to hurt others, or take from others”, Joe was amazed that he could put together the words coming out of his mouth. He felt a jolt of energy, but it was risky to challenge the man.

“Those people aren’t of your concern Joe – they are lost. Think of those you can help, and think of how much people will respect you when you give that help”, the man said as he rose from his chair. Joe sat across from the screen, and thought about his choice.

“Joe, now is the time to make up your mind”, the man said. “This is a limited time offer, about to expire”. His voice began to get louder to Joe.

“Respect me? Wouldn’t that lead to pride?”, Joe said.

“You take the gift now or never Joe, I’m not going to give you the option again”, the man was nearly yelling. The more intense he got, the more sure of himself Joe became.

“No, now be gone from here”, Joe said confidently.

The television blinked off. A moment later the phone rang. Joe looked at the clock – it was past 2 AM. Who could be calling him this late?

“Hello?”, Joe said into the phone.

“You made the right choice. The evil in men’s hearts would have led you to temptation. The pride of the gift would have ruined any man”, the voice at the other end of the phone said. “You shall not further be tested”. The line went dead.

Joe sat there, and while he was not tired, a peace came over him, and the next thing he knew, it was morning. He looked about and realized that Mordechai hadn’t come home last night, an increasingly regular ritual. It was 8:15 when the phone rang.

“Hello?”, Joe said.

“Joe”, Mamma’s voice was weak, but firm, “You’ll never believe who came to see me last night”.

“Who?”

“Mordechai – he came in about 2 AM and said something told him to come spend time with me instead of those kids he’d been with. He just left to come over to your place. He said he had to apologize, but he wouldn’t tell me why”. Joe was shocked as he heard his mother’s words.

“That’s amazing Mamma”, Joe said “How are you feeling today?”.

“I’m doing well. The doctor came in around 7 and told me that I’m getting better. I should be out of here in a few days”.

Joe talked a bit more to his mother and then they hung up. He was shocked. Not only had Mordechai visited his grandmother in the hospital, but her health was improving. How could that be? It was…

Joe stopped himself just short of using the word “miracle”.

Mordechai came into the house with the newspaper. They talked for almost an hour, Mordechai apologizing, Joe forgiving, and both catching up on the past year’s events. As it came time for Mordechai to get some rest before he went to work later that day, he looked at his father and spoke.

“You know Dad, you haven’t asked me why I changed my mind about my life”.

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready, and I have a few clues about it myself anyway”, Joe said with a smile.

“I can’t explain it myself Dad, so if you have clues, I’d love to hear them. At some point last night I just realized that what I was doing was hurting people, including myself. As soon as I made the decision to leave and go see Grandma, I knew things were going to get better for all of us”, Mordechai said as he leaned down to hug his father who was still sitting in his chair.

“I think you’re right – things are going to get better”, Joe said as Mordechai left the room.

Author’s Note: I left the name of the son/daughter in the story up to a Facebook friend, who chose Mordechai in honor of upcoming Purim.

[SSDay]

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#34 A Literal World

“Ouch! That burned a bit”, Amiee said as she felt a warm heat on the back of her neck.

“What was that”, she asked her friend Mary.

“Dragonfly, probably”, Mary responded. “Sometimes their fire breath gets a bit intense!”.

About an hour earlier, Amiee had walked along minding her own business when a rock appeared out of nowhere and tripped her (Amiee wasn’t exactly the most careful person in the world, so it’s possible the rock was there the whole time, and she simply failed to adjust her course). Mary found her a few moments later, unconscious. Since she woke up, after having only been unconscious for a minute, things started getting strange.

“What happened?”, Mary asked as she peered at the wound on Amiee’s forehead.

“I must have tripped”, Amiee responded.

“Well, we’d better get that cleaned out”, Mary said as she guided Amiee toward her home. Her mother, Mrs. Black, came outside as the girls approached.

“What happened!?! Did anyone else see her trip? What’s going on?”, she asked, and Amiee let Mary explain the short story of it. Amiee couldn’t help but notice that something was different about Mrs. Black. She was moving from side to side, as if she couldn’t keep comfortable in her own skin. As they were washing out the cut, Mary spoke of her mother.

“Sorry about Mom – she always needs to be about everyone’s business. She means well though”. Mary said. Once they finished up, they returned to the park where they’d both been walking. It was there that Amiee saw the strangest bird. It appeared to be wearing a black hat and cloak. Why would a bird be wearing clothing?

“Look at that bird”, Amiee exclaimed.

“What? It’s just a mourning dove”, Mary said as she glanced at the animal.

“But why is he wearing black clothing?”, Amiee said. She was relieved when Mary failed to respond with something challenging her view of the bird.

“Well because he’s a mourning dove, silly! Never have quite understood whom they mourn for though.”, Mary said in reply.

Amiee was amazed, and while she stood there thinking, Mary pulled her to the side as a whooshing sound was heard, and the wind swished by them. Amiee saw something flash past, multiple colors and sounds intermingling, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Those boys always rush through here like a freight train”, Mary said. Amiee was astounded – they certainly had. What was going on here? How did one small trip change the world into a place where there was no such thing as a figure of speech, everything was literally as it sounded.

“Mary”, Amiee began, “Did anything out of the ordinary happen while I was unconscious”.

“No, not that I can think of”, Mary said. “You hit your head and cut it, and were out for a moment or two. Nothing happened here”.

“But everything that we talk about is literally occurring”, Amiee said.

“Of course it is – it would be strange if I had told you something different from what was really happening, right?”, Mary replied.

“No – it’s hard to explain Mary, but before I hit my head, I was in a world where we used language differently – we spoke about things using examples. The mourning dove was named because of its call similar to a cry – not because he was really in mourning”, Amiee said.

Mary looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out what was wrong with her friend.

“I think we should go to the hospital”, Mary said, and Amiee reluctantly agreed. As they walked into the emergency room, Amiee slumped over in her friend’s arms, and the attendants took her quickly into examination.

—

“Amiee”, a voice said as Amiee opened her eyes and began to focus. It was her mother.

“Mrs. Black called me and told me that you were here – I drove like lightning to get here”. Amiee was relieved that she didn’t see any visible scorch marks on her mother.

“Mom… my head hurts”, Amiee said.

“I know it does sweetie, but it will get better. You were out for about 10 minutes, and it had us very worried when you were groggy for so long. You had a fever, but that seems to have broken now”. her mother explained.

“What happened?”, Amiee asked.

“When you hit your head and cut yourself, you stumbled into a bush. Apparently you’re allergic to something in it, and the cut made the allergy even worse.”, her mother said.

“Mom, do fireflies breathe fire?”, Amiee asked.

“Of course they don’t, honey”, her mother chuckled.

“Language is weird”, Amiee said, as she smiled at her mom.

[SSDay]

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