tao1776

I am a sensitive and simple man. I complicate too much too often. I want peace for the world but realize that the world has never really known peace. Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men is a moment by moment, person by person experience. It is not global and probably never will be. S omething died between the lathe work and our staircase. It smells horrible. Without performing some major demo, we are forced to try and live with it. A little Frebreeze, some baking soda.....maybe we can weather the storm. I have been looking forward to a large seven course dinner at a Mason's lodge in a neighboring town. It's a big event http://www.mainemason.org/resources/table.asp I expected that a group of us from our lodge would attend together. I had several conversations with other members regarding this night. I know that everyone is busy and that many planned to attend. I wanted to join up with others, as is the custom. No one called. Nothing personal, I know. But I just couldn...

"I could have been a contender, I could have been somebody, instead of a bum which is what I am."

As an Ulster Scot on my Mother's side, I am inclined to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Not because of St. Patrick I might add. I would imagine that having descended from Scotland with the lineage of MacGregor, it would have more to do with just trying to "piss off" the English. 'S Roegmal mo dhream...... Ardchoille!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So of course, alcohol is involved. With $$ being a little scarce, drinking Narragansett just doesn't cut it. While cleaning out some of the trash that has accumulated in my truck, I found two cans of Guinness under the front seat all wrapped in red tissue paper. Must have been leftovers from Christmas. Knowing that these two cans must have gone through the freeze/thaw process many, many times over, I thought them to be dead. All I can say is, God bless the widget. http://mywebpages.comcast.net/tabco/widget.htm A friend of mine works at the local micro brewery and brought me a case of their Country Ale and a "Growler" of their...

The icicle that hung from the south western corner of the roof was slowly melting. The repetitious drip, drip, drip, tapped away upon the upturned wheelbarrow. Birds were gathering in the row of scrub pine making all the sounds of spring. Temperatures were closing in on sixty five degrees. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring again. The movement of the gathering birds reflect the flurry of activity that occupies my mind. And as I attach myself to these thoughts I am ever sinking lower and lower into despair. Its quite simple. Yet I turn away. Having experienced the freedom of watching thoughts arise and pass away, just as the seasons rise from vernal equinox to autumnal equinox and back again, my despair acts as a pair of heavy boots making progress in any direction cumbersome. I am depressed. A concoction made with one portion of situational depression, a shot (or two) of genetic depression, a splash of hormonal depression (compliments of diabetes) makes for one dull boy. Applyin...

S o me and Bobby leaned over the bridge trying to catch a very uninterested rainbow trout. Didn't know Bobby very well. He was rather aloof and superior. There were high expectations for him. His dad, my uncle, worked as a consultant for a power company. They moved around a lot. This new house was close to the families of my aunt and uncle and they felt that this would be a permanent location for them. Retirement lay at the end of a ten year plan for my Uncle and Bobby was graduating with honors. He was furthering his success after high school by joining the Marines. Yes, there were great expectations surrounding Bobby. What a man, what a man, what a mighty fine man. He was something to admire. Too bad that damned trout wouldn't cooperate on this fine spring day in May. It would have made the day perfect. The next time I saw Bobby, all six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of him, was after his tour of duty in Vietnam at our grandfather's funeral. We were elected to b...

When I think of my coming of age days, I often think about the quick social and political change that was taking place right under our noses. In my town alone, a small town that consisted of four precincts and a fairly sizable population, there was one full time police officer. There was one police cruiser that also doubled as the town's only ambulance. People would sit on their front porch and say hello to their neighbors and no one ever felt the need to lock their doors. After the assassination of JFK and the country's increased involvement in Vietnam, authority was being questioned at a level not known since before the Civil War. The political gap, the generation gap, the religious gap; each widened, threatening to devour the unclassified. After the killings of MLK and Bobby K. the gap began to turn into a vortex. Everyone could relate to the rock lyric; I"d love to change the world But I don't know what to do So I leave it up to you.......... People locked their do...

Oh. I was saying that it was the long anticipated fourth of July before I went off on the shoe thing. Happens a lot when I'm trying to tell a story. Mind races off in all directions. I was going to tell you about our band, the fireman's fair and all that when my mind just ran to Bucky's boots and Tom Mccann. I began to tell you about the fourth of July when the all volunteer fire department would set up a row of games, hire a small carnival of rides and set off a fireworks display. There was food and a sound stage and various vendors. Since this was the biggest thing going all year, everyone would come to play, eat, have fun, and raise money to support the fire department. It was cool when that kid from Columbus Ave got a dart stuck in the side of his nose. But that's another story. What I wanted to tell you about was our garage band. "Ten Cent Nickel Bag" was the name. I owned a Jazz Master Fender, Al had a Silvertone that could play a good rhythm and ba...

It was the long anticipated fourth of July. While most of the kids wore Keds, Nick had Thom Mccanns handed down to him by his father. Slightly larger than his feet, he ran much slower than everyone else. There was that time that Mr. Fortier chased us for climbing his apple trees and Nick lost one of his shoes during the chase. He didn't dare come home with only one shoe and he made a miraculous dive to retrieve the lost loafer. Mr. Fortier had him. Had him in his grasp! And yet, somehow, Nick dove and slipped away like a greased pig. He later caught up with us at the Catholic Church woods. This earned him the nickname Thom Mccann, a name that still sticks today. But it is Bucky Addams that stands forefront in my memory. His family moved into town long after the rest of us and he had the unenviable task of trying to make new friends in a new town. With jet black hair, a small framed body and a slight French Canadian accent, he made up with mouth what he lacked in size. A few years ...

At the sound of the morning alarm he grabbed his pants and headed downstairs to begin his day. The process always sounded the same. The same jingle of the change in his pockets. The same creak of the top stair, the fifth stair, and the floor at the bottom. The water would run and change sound as it moved from cold to hot in the pipes. He would start his car and back out of the driveway and then proceed up the street. I had the sound of shifting from first, to second and to drive firmly locked into my memory like an old song. The timing was flawless. He would return home by one thirty in the afternoon. He would take a nap and by four o'clock he was off to a second job as the head cook or chef at local restaurants such as, "The Chetwood" or "The Oasis" or the "Four Winds". He was home by eleven to prepare for the four thirty in the a.m. cycle to began again. At age fifty seven, his heart required surgery and he needed to retire. He was able to use accumu...