First of all, a man with my build might want to avoid certain sports.
Oh, the things I do to get weed money.
My roommate Steve decided, on a bet with his friend Grant, to take up snowboarding. The sport got a hold of Steve, and he soon began longing for the action and as many trips as possible. The only problem was that Steve was without transportation.
His lack of a car provided me an extracurricular financial opportunity. He wanted to go so badly one Saturday that he rented my skis and paid for gas for a ride up. My eyes saw dollar signs and good green flash before them.
“I beg to differ’ son, I’ve been round all my life.”
A knee-jerk response to a simple statement of reply started the journey.
I was pretty well known at a local pizza shop for ordering frequently. The guys who ran the shop became friends, and we had a good time and lots of laughs during pickup.
I had not been in for a couple of months. The wife tried to make me eat better. That effort was as futile as the marriage itself, but I digress.
I walked through the door with my usual bravado, “Where you been, Chuck? I ain’t seen you in forever,” I smiled, having gotten the jump.“That’s because you ain’t been around.”
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No one believed in me. That was their first mistake.
Higher education is a luxury to those who grow up poor. If you did not earn your own way, you did not go to college. The majority of us down the ‘holler’ considered higher education to be out of reach. I was one of the hopeless.
It was just easier to drop out in the 80s. It was common to get a full-time job and just party or go fishing with friends. Jobs paid barely enough to get by, but pooled money bought the party favors.
I languished in that circle of self-destruction for too many years. I got a good job working midnight shift at a local factory. I’d go fishing in the mornings, take a quick nap in the afternoon, and play music until time to go to work.
The relevance of time hits hard on the southbound slide of life. Memories have more meaning. Places have nostalgic value, and old friends are rare and cherished.
When we were the kids, we gave no attention to nostalgia. We were too busy creating our own memories to pay much attention to the wisdom of our elders. In the turn of a moment, we are the elders.
Two screens stare back at me for eight hours every day. There have been many different screens edging their way into my soul over the past 35 years. I stare back at them, wondering if I have a soul? I snap out of it, realizing I do have a soul. My soul is intertwined with my beautiful, intelligent, and charismatic daughter. She is my heart, my soul and my muse.
Have you ever just looked at a quarter and wondered where it has been? Decades in pockets, cash registers, vending machines, and general circulation leave their marks over time.
That Quarter, once shiny and new, now holds the years of scars and stains from battle with other coins. Faded, scratched, and embedded dirt make the date unreadable, and the Eagle on the back is so dirty you can barely trace its outline.
Both sides of the coin tell their own story of many journeys.
The edge has been on the same journey. It has seen the same overuse and neglect. Yet, it has held its shine. Sure, there are some scratches, but nowhere near the damage as his brothers on either side.
The bottle had already been opened, with much of its contents absorbed when Richard tipped it back.
“None of you boys ever been down this river, so make sure you listen to me,” he belted after his drink. “This trip could be dangerous; those rapids will sneak up on you.”
The backdrop to his proclamation was the shimmering rocks and the rushing water of one of West Virginia’s most beautiful rivers. It was early summer, and the water was still a bit high from Spring thaws.
There were six of us taking the trip that day. All of us were working with little sleep, having jammed at the trailer the night before the trip. We were young.
It is not a very special-looking ball. It is not a high-dollar ball of significance. It cost very little to purchase, and it has no special coloring or abilities. In fact, it is a low-grade rubber ball with images of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles springing into action. It cost $1. Consequently, I got it at a Dollar Store. It was purchased with three others just like it, each bearing a different image.
The other three did not last very long. Balls are meant to be played with, and these did not stand the test of time. I expected this. When I purchased four of them, I knew they were not forever toys. I certainly knew they would not hold significant value for me in the long run, and I expected a temporary distraction.
