Sliding Into Third

Remember Little Red?


The Little Red Car, that is ... our faithful companion over the past several years ... and 120,000-plus miles, now ... always ready to pop a wheelie and be off on some new adventure ... the little car that, no matter how far we strayed from the beaten path, always found a way to get us safely back home.


That’s the one.


Little Red always found a way to share the road with the BIG GUYS ... (some of which had tires bigger than all of Little Red) ... without being overly aggressive. 


Little Red, in fact, was always being passed by somebody ... a semi ... a school bus ... kids on roller skates ... a bicyclist ... certainly a motorcyclist ... because Little Red agreed with me that speed limit signs are just that ... signs that indicate the safe LIMIT ... not a suggested speed ... but a SAFE, LEGAL UPPER LIMIT ... whether in school zones with the amber lights flashing ... or in a quiet neighborhood where kids are about.


And stop signs ... Little Red had become convinced that a certain four-letter word ... S-T-O-P ... meant just that: To cease forward motion ... not to go rolling through while talking on the phone or sipping that morning coffee ... and certainly not just to slow slightly, then zip on through.


I don’t know how many times Little Red almost got rear-ended while in the process of obeying STOP signs ... RED LIGHTS, too.


Oh, Little Red was a stubborn cuss.


I know, I’ve been using the past tense in recounting some of Little Red’s character traits ... as though Little Red weren’t with us any more.


Never fear ... Little Red is still here ... going on 13 now ... approaching those difficult teen years ... but still here.


I recently had some doubts, though.


It began as a sort of hiccup ... you know, a brief, but noticeable interruption ... like a hiccup ... of the engine’s steady hum.


I think I was backing out of a tight parking space when I first noticed it. I didn’t think too much about it ... might have been my unsteady foot on the gas pedal.


But it wasn’t long after that when Little Red started sneezing ... particularly when it was time to bed down Little Red for the night in that magnificent building on the rear portion of Brimm Manor.


Some nights Little Red did an imitation of a bucking bronco as we approached the yawning door to Little Red’s nighttime abode. There were some nights when we wondered if we should just give in and leave Little Red in the driveway.


But we didn’t. Oh, we have, on occasion ... but then we wake up in the wee hours ... remember that we left Little Red out ... and swear to ourselves that we hear Little Red whimpering.


Finally, though, we decided we had to do something ... for Little Red’s peace of mind ... and ours. 


That happened at a traffic light. Remember? Little Red and I stop when the light turns red ... and we don’t resume our forward motion (unless we’re doing one of those ... perfectly legal in Ohio ... right turns on red, after stopping, then checking for oncoming traffic, of course).   


This time we had stopped behind two other cars which were signaling that they were going to turn left ... so we sat and sat, waiting to make our right turn. As the light turned green and we all started moving ... Little Red started wheezing ... and sneezing ... coughing and sputtering like I’d never heard before.


It was a horrible scene.


Just about half way through the turn, we came to a sudden halt ... instrument lights came on ... some of which I don’t believe I’d ever seen before ... I couldn’t turn the steering wheel ... couldn’t do anything. We were dead in the water.


Fortunately, the driver behind me ... also in the process of making a right turn ... was watching ... and he or she managed to avoid running into us ... sat for what seemed an eternity for me, but must have been only a couple of seconds ... while I restarted Little Red and we were all on our way again.


I must say that Little Red had been running fine on the streets and highways ... except at traffic lights and stop signs ... a sure sign of rebellion, I suppose ... but I wasn’t about to start running stop signs and red lights, just to please Little Red and avoid a little rough idling. 


There was a time when I would have gotten out a pocket full of tools and set about solving the problem ... or not. But not this time. We took Little Red in for professional counseling.


Turns out the problem was a hose connecting the gizmo and the central thingamajig. The hose cost about a dollar ... labor? Well, that was about fifty bucks ... but they didn’t charge us for the diagnostics ... this time.


Little Red is running fine now, thank you very much. 


I’m the one who has to adjust. You see, I had gotten into the habit of shifting into neutral at every stop ... and I still do that sometimes now. No problem, really, if I can just remember to shift back into DRIVE before I mash the gas pedal.


Oh, for the good old days of the standard shift and the clutch pedal, right? ... and, of course, the dimmer switch on the floor. 


-S&G-


NOTE from LOREE (Kansas) provides a link to the latest page on her site. The graphic is a photo taken by her middle son, Steve Marler, on one of his hikes into a remote area. He loves doing that with his camera along, Loree adds ... and I think the graphic shows that, too.


The link:


http://www.poetrybyloree.com/422.html


-S&G-


TODAY’S POEM: Don't worry. I'm not about to slide into third base ... or even run the bases, for that matter. Not even slowly. Still, my  imagination which was stirred by the warm spring breezes, the proximity of a playing field, the sun on my back. So here’s the poem, originally published in Potpourri:




SLIDING INTO THIRD


Sometimes,
when I’m walking past
the empty field,
I’m tempted
to go legging it
around the base paths,
sliding into third,
maybe stealing home,
but then I think
about getting caught
in a run-down
between second
and third, cut down
trying to extend
a beseeching leg
to hook the refuge
of that dusty bag,
and the vision
of that humiliation,
the disgrace of being
the winning run
tagged out, finished,
game over, is more
than I can chance.
Still, on one of my
better days,
I just might try it.




-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


rbrimm@peoplepc.com


... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


Oh, and if you’d like to see what’s up with my other ... DAILY blog ... here’s a link to it:


http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/


Thanks for paying a visit.




-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009   

At the Doctor's Office

OCTOBER? Already? How can that be?


I was just beginning to enjoy the relatively mild summer we had ... in this neck of the woods, at least ... and now I’m looking for my gloves ... again.


You haven’t seen them, have you? How about my mittens? I could use my mittens, if I can’t find my gloves. Of course, mittens impede my guitar playing, so I would really prefer finding my gloves.


-S&G-


WINTER IS ON THE WAY ... and don’t say I didn’t give you adequate warning.


Word from LINDA (Illinois) is that it might be ... well, a little more than we expect from winter ... or want.


“Have you ever heard about persimmon seeds predicting the oncoming winter weather?” she asks.


Well, no ... don’t believe I have. I’ve heard about the forecasts of those fur-coated worms we sometimes see dashing here and there ... but persimmons?


Bob ... Linda informs me ... and that’s her Bob, not me ... collected four small persimmons and opened the seed in all four (not an easy task, she points out). And ... listen carefully to this: Three of the seeds say lots of snow coming ... the fourth undetermined.


“Not saying how accurate the information is,” Linda says, “but you might want to make sure you have snow boots.”


-S&G-


And GLOVES, Linda ... MITTENS at the very least!


-S&G-


A FEW DAYS AGO ... everything in S&G Land seems to have happened a few days ago ... but that makes it easier to keep up on events, right? 


Well, a few days ago Phyllis and I were just preparing for our afternoon walk ... when the doorbell rang ... and we found a mysterious package outside the front door.


My first reaction, as I indicated to someone I could really trust, was that I must have inadvertently ordered something online while attempting to surf the web ... or was it the net? ... and keep my balance at the same time.


Further investigation proved that this was not the case.


It was a birthday present ... a little after the fact, but always a welcome event (I try to keep the party going all year, but that doesn’t always work). And it was something I don’t already have. 


What was it? 


Well, it was a gizmo ... an electronic gizmo ... a headset - you know, an earpiece and a microphone ... AND some software ... all designed so I can TURN TALK INTO TEXT on my computer.


I haven’t tried it yet, but I will soon ... and I will then be able to create documents and e-mail - entirely by voice ... AND search the Internet with EASE.


But the best part is that it’s “faster and more accurate than typing.”


Oh, I can uSe thet ... becauze, as yew may hav notiCed, my tuping somtimz isnt all its cricked up to bee. Pleeze stay tooned.


-S&G- 


SOME ANXIOUS days, recently ... when there were no e-mails from LOREE (Kansas). As regular visitors to S&G may have noted, she has become a regular herself ... sharing some of her adventures ... observations ... and some laughs along the way.


Turns out she was coping with a serious medical problem ... had, in fact had a bit of surgery ... serious stuff.


But she’s on the mend now, back to doing chores around the place ... on a slightly reduced level, mind you, but getting around.


And ... naturally ... writing poetry again. She has shared some of her writings with us along the way ... and here’s another (just click on the link, and it should take you there):


http://www.poetrybyloree.com/421.html




-S&G-


AND, FINALLY ... just by coincidence, I assure you, I was browsing some old printouts of SQUIGGLES & GIGGLES ... all the way back to the Middle Ages, approximately ... back when S&G was a weekly e-mailed “newsletter” (before AOL suddenly put a stop to it) ... and I ran across a poem that sorta goes with Loree’s.


Today’s poem was written while I was sitting on the end of an examining table (they are tables, aren’t they?) ... waiting for the doctor to come in and check on me ... later submitted to a publication called Potpourri ... accepted by them ... and, later, nominated by them for Pushcart Prize honors. (I didn’t win, by the way, but just being nominated was LIKE winning, to me).


I hope you don’t mind my sharing “At the Doctor’s Office” again:


AT THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE


Random needles of rain
start darting diagonally
like the silent scratchings
of cat claws on the window
where the traffic is zooming
and sizzling past, hauling
away the remains of Thursday,
blurring beyond the sycamore,
its mottled grey-green trunk
whispering of a deep-forest
stream while seeming utterly
misplaced here where concrete
suffers the presence of so few
trees, where my strongest
efforts at contiguous thought
produce only fragments too tiny
to mend, unleavened images,
lacking all savor of meaning,
where I perch, dry-mouthed
and nervous, my legs dangling
from the end of this table,
and wait, as I always do,
for a door to open softly,
carefully, into this silence,
this sterile, stifling silence.


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


 rbrimm@peoplepc.com


... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


Oh, and if you’d like to see what’s up with my other ... DAILY blog ... here’s a link to it:


http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/





Thanks for paying a visit.




-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009  

Dancing the Dance

(No, that's not a self-portrait. It's a creation by our grandson, Thomas)


Talk about quiet. 


There weren’t even any e-mails this week. Oh, there were the usual offerings of SPAM ... things which I thought I had blocked long ago ... a couple of newsletters from writing and art groups (but, through an involved, convoluted way of viewing them ... welcome though they are ... newsletters don’t count as e-mail) ... but none of those “Hey! How ya doin’?” kind of things which keep S&G going.


But I understand. People are busy. Even Professor Squigglee and I are busy, too. He’s busy grading papers, I presume ... and I’m busy watching the leaves turn ... and they always do at this time of year. Somebody has to watch them, to be sure they’re doing it right. 


I’ve stepped into the breach, and I can report that the leaves seem to be turning properly ... so far.


Meanwhile, I’m going to give all of you a break this week. None of my long-winded diatribes. No homework assignments from Professor Squigglee ... and no pop quizzes in the offing.


But if you do find a spare minute in the coming week, I wouldn’t mind hearing from you ... and you ... and you. Helps to keep S&G ... and me ... going, sorta. Thanks.


-S&G-


Also, meanwhile, if you’d like to see what’s up with my other ... DAILY blog ... here’s a link to it:


http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/


Thanks for paying a visit there, too.


-S&G-


TODAY’S POEM ... I think, is fitting for a week in which nothing happened at Brimm Manor ... and, seemingly, other places, too. In hopes that it tells its own story, here it is:  


DANCING THE DANCE


Tomorrow I shall write all those things
I intended to write today,
but didn't.


With a single bound, two at most,
I shall leave my bed.


I shall fly into the backlogged stacks
of things to rewrite, and I shall be there
two hours early to begin, as one must, 
if one flies these days.


I shall walk 
the narrow path
(so deserted)
to distasteful,
routine tasks.


I shall run the vacuum briskly over these
scattered promises that litter my trail.


I shall sleep, fitfully, but dutifully,
simply because I must, though I may toss 
and turn most of the afternoon.


And when night comes, I shall turn 
the lights down low, put on some music, 
and dance the dance of good intentions,
knowing I've done my best to bound, 
to fly, to walk, to run, to sleep; ah, 
yes, perhaps, even to write.


(originally published in Kaleidoscope)


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


rbrimm@peoplepc.com




... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009  

Ahead and Behind

Another quiet week here at Brimm Manor ... with the exception of a doctor’s appointment ... a few odd chores ... and a bit of walking cautiously among the teetering stacks of things in need of attention.


-S&G-


IT WAS SO quiet that you could’ve heard a tick tock ... if ticks really tock ... and if there are any ticks still around after all the cool nights we’ve had here in Ohio recently.


-S&G-


COOL ... I remember when that meant the relative absence of heat. Then it took on another meaning, particularly in relation to other individuals or (musical) groups. In my day ... and I’m not saying precisely what century THAT was ... we referred to a particular vocalist ... or band ... as HOT, if they were really with it ... meaning they were the absolute best we had ever heard. At some point THE word became COOL. 


-S&G-


How the language changes.


And I guess it’s in for even more change. I’ve heard, from usually reliable sources, that handwriting (we called it penmanship ... how ANCIENT can one be?) is no longer being taught. Oh, I guess they’re teaching kids to write their names. But the rest of it takes place at the keyboard.


Or on the cell phone.


We’re communicating more and more ... every waking second, it seems ... but ... judging from what I overhear at the grocery store ... or the parking lot ... and near those signs which say: PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONE WHILE IN HERE ... the more I hear, the more convinced I am that we’re communicating ... that is, sharing important, meaningful information ... less and less.


Someday, I guess, our language ... whatever language THAT is going to be ... will simply be gibberish.


-S&G-


TODAY’S QUOTE: “It may appear ... sometimes ... quite unexpectedly ... that I’m unsteady on my feet - like when I suddenly rise from a sitting position, for example. But that’s not the case at all. It’s simply that the room has tilted, and I’m adjusting to it.” - Professor Squigglee


-S&G-


TODAY’S POEM: I suppose it was there all the time ... an ability, on occasion, to say something that sort of had the sound of poetry ... something that, while alien, perhaps, to the formal, prescribed structure and style of real poetry, had an element that conjured up poetic images for the reader ... or listener.


I began writing these things for myself. They usually came to me during my daily walks. When I got back home, I would sit for a few minutes at the kitchen table, scribbling away.


Then I began sharing these scribblings with Phyllis. She liked them ... at least said she did ... and encouraged me to keep writing.


I did keep writing, and writing, and writing ... and, though today's poem is a bit of an exaggeration ... poetic license, you know ... it does sometimes seem that I've gotten ahead on my writing ... behind on everything else.


Meanwhile, the poem:

AHEAD AND BEHIND


For many years
I wouldn’t venture
into this strange
realm of poetry,
but then, like
a water-loving dog
finding a pond,
I plunged in,
can’t be coaxed
back out, and I’m
paddling around,
getting slowly
ahead on poetry,
way behind on
everything else.
© 2001
(originally published in Capper's)


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


 rbrimm@peoplepc.com




... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009  

Defying Gravity

Uh-OH ... look out ... this was one of those weeks when nothing happened ... so-o-o-o ... you know what that means: I’ll probably end up talking endlessly ... about nothing, of course.


-S&G-


Oh, I did run into an old writing buddy ... at watercolor class. He not only remembered my name (and I remembered his, too, by the way) ... but he also remembered one of my poems that I had shared, way back when we were attending the same writing group.


The poem? “Clutter, Glorious Clutter.” I wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Maybe he thought of me as being a really messy person. Maybe he just liked the poem, I finally decided. Yep. I liked that conclusion.


And what did I do? I went right home and dug out “Clutter ... “ then, not wanting all that effort to go to waste, I posted it on my other (daily) blog, “Chosen Words,” along with one of my photos.


I know, some of you are regular readers of “Chosen Words” ... maybe not daily, but regularly visiting the site.


For those who may not have discovered it ... or may have forgotten how to get there ... here’s a link:


http://rbrimm.blogspot.com


Let me know if you arrived there safely ... and your reaction to the posting. 


-S&G-


TODAY’S QUOTE: “God made man before woman so as to give him time to think of an answer for her first question.” - courtesy of TIL (Illinois)


-S&G-


REMEMBER THESE? - courtesy of WALT (Ohio):


Candy cigarettes ... wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water inside ... soda machines that dispensed glass bottles ... coffee shops with table-side jukeboxes ... Blackjack, Clove and Teaberrry chewing gums ... home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers.


-S&G-

YOU KNOW you’re a Floridian if ... flip-flops are everyday wear. Shoes are for business meetings and church ... but you HAVE worn flip-flops to church before (more than once!) - courtesy of HELEN (Florida)
  
-S&G-


TODAY’S POEM - Oh, wouldn't it be great to be able to rise above the everyday problems that continue to plague us?


I thought about that. I thought about literally rising above them, sailing off as carefree as a bird ... or more like a big red balloon which had just gained its freedom. Of course, I came back to earth, to the reality that things would still bug me, but I felt better able to cope.




How's that for a bit of therapy ... at least in the realm of things which, in the long view of things, aren't all that important? Maybe if I practice on the little things I will be better able to rise above the larger, more serious hurdles which lie ahead. It's a thought, anyway. 


Now the poem:


DEFYING GRAVITY


With practice, I fully expect
someday to defy the gravity
of situations that bug me now.


A promise broken beyond repair,
an umbrella gone inside-out,
the spilled beans of some urgent
secret, the hole in my sock,
a lost mitten, broken shoelace,
a bookmark gone astray,
my coffee cup gone stone cold,
things I’ve forgotten,
crawling out, feeling old.


I see myself like a giant
red balloon, rising easily
above them all. And don’t you
dare grab the string.
(originally published in Potpourri)


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


rbrimm@peoplepc.com


... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009  

My Sunday Stroll

A few days ago I was driving down a four-lane street ... minding my own business ... and the speed limit, I might add ... when I noticed a young couple with an infant in a stroller up ahead.


They were in a mid-block, marked crosswalk, halfway across the street, headed for the side I was driving along.


I stopped short of the crosswalk, turned on my four-way flashers ... and sat there ... while about half a dozen drivers pulled around me and went whizzing past.


Finally, another driver stopped beside me, so we had both of our lanes blocked, for the moment. The trio ventured out ... she waved a thank-you to us ... they got safely across ... and went on.


I’m not here to condemn those other drivers ... far be it from me to cast the first stone in the driving department ... I don’t know who those other drivers were, or what vital, urgent errands they were on.


I couldn’t help thinking, though, of how loudly their actions speak of a general disrespect for the law ... and for others ... as I witness it on the streets and highways these days ... and drivers’ disregard for the safety of themselves ... and others.


Will we never learn?


-S&G-


TODAY’S QUOTE: “I’m always very careful, so this is quite unlikely to happen ... but just suppose I were to crawl out of bed some morning ... and get my flip-flops on the wrong feet. Would they then be considered flop-flips?” - Professor Squigglee


-S&G-


AND ANOTHER ... Phyllis’ late father was a collector ... of sayings, among other things ... and here’s one now:


Now is the time to plan your life,
If you would make your mark;
You know it wasn’t raining
When Noah built the ark.


-S&G-


LOOKING BACK ... all the way to the Monday, April 7, 2003 issue of S&G ... “I was strolling through a mall the other day, minding my own business, when I suddenly saw this huge sign ... RETRO SHOES ... in one of the windows. Well! I can imagine what those are. Once you’ve got ‘em on, you stand up (if you can) ... and start walking ... BACKWARDS.”


-S&G-


LOOKING BACK (AGAIN) ... this time to an e-mail late last year from LOREE (Kansas) ... in which she suggested an installment about our first real “paying” jobs ... where actual money was involved. 


Loree said she was about nine or ten ... and hers went like this:


Ah, yes ... memories of my first real paying job! I was a kid in New York State, and Freckles and I got a REAL job ... in more ways than one! First we rode our bicycle (that’s right ... ONE bicycle for the two of us to share) ... and we rode about four or five miles to a truck farm that raised produce near Lake Ontario. We called it a “muck farm,” since the soil was so rich ... and if damp, about like concrete!


Anyway, our job was to get down on our knees and traverse the length of the rows, pulling out WEEDS! ... sun boiling down ... wiping the sweat from our foreheads with grimy, gritty hands. And at the end of the day ... the long trek back home. But, hey, we were paid FIFTY CENTS a day for our efforts!


-S&G-


REMEMBER WHEN ... Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box? - courtesy of WALT (Ohio)


-S&G-


YOU KNOW ... you’re a Floridian if ... Your winter coat is made of denim. - courtesy of HELEN (Florida)


-S&G-


ANOTHER QUOTE ... “Aspire to inspire before you expire.” - courtesy of TIL (Illinois)


-S&G-  


TODAY’S POEM ... First of all, let me say this: I’ve got nothing against dogs. Some of my best friends, especially during my growing up years, were pooches ... and we got along splendidly, roaming the hills, sharing adventures, pausing occasionally to take in the view.


Why is it, then, that nowadays dogs ... not all, but a lot of them ... seem to have this compulsion to express their disdain for me? 


It’s almost as though I owe them money ... or look like someone who might steal a bone from them. Not me, buddy ... not me.


Still, there’s that bit of animosity they seem to harbor, as detailed in today’s poem. (All I ask is that you read it silently ... I don’t want any more canines getting the wrong idea about me): 


MY SUNDAY STROLL


How brave the dogs
crashing into the fence,
bark-bark-barking
at me on the other side.


Are they afraid I'll jump
the barrier (at my age)
and attack them?
Does the fence make them


brave, as brave as I am?
Only inches from
flashing, pointed teeth,
agitated, syncopated paws,


those raging eyes, rising
hackles, I stroll serenely
past as superior as a cat,
knowing that the fence


will corner abruptly and they
must stop, game over,
while I, clearly the winner,
hear only the cheering
crowd as I quit the field.


(originally published in Moose Bound Press)


-S&G-


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 


Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to


rbrimm@peoplepc.com




... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


-S&G-


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


-S&G-
© 2009