Summing Up and Forging On

Many ancient wars were settled by killing every man woman and child.

He was as big a man as I’ve seen, ever. Easily Nathan Allen topped five hundred pounds. He always came to my jobs in a pick up truck and stayed in it, facing the houses I had contracted to re-roof. Under Nathan’s watchful eye, his crew, led by his son, made short work of stripping the old roofing and toting it away in a high boarded trailer. I never saw him, feet on the ground, until after he learned I was a carpenter. He summoned me to his home after that and he took me into his house to explain his situation. Nathan had a good face and he was well-spoken. As he talked, he led me into the kitchen.

“I built my mother a cabin in my backyard,” Nathan said. “I had to for her own protection because she kept wandering to the house straight across the road, thinking she owned it.”

He pulled the shade above the kitchen sink to expose the view through a little window. I could plainly see the shack, which was crude in appearance but seemed sturdy and weatherproof.

“She has Alzheimer’s,” he continued. “She doesn’t even know who I am. It’s a strange feeling when she tells me about her son and doesn’t know she’s talking to him.”

He dug a finger into his shirt pocket and produced a scrap of white.

“I made up a list of repairs for you to do. She’s back there, but won’t be any trouble. Her name is Sally.”

After a bit more preliminary conversation, I found myself entering Sally’s home. Nathan had made the interior livably functional. Any single person could be comfortable living there. The first thing on the list was to clean out the toilet tank. The tank was filled beyond capacity with sticks, twigs, and leaves. As I opened a plastic bag afforded me by Nathan, Sally appeared at the bathroom door. She wore a simple dress and she looked clean and neat and not at all unwell.

“The kids keep doing that,” she said, referring to the mess.

It was a simple matter to make the toilet functional. Next on the list was to replace the kitchen faucet with one Nathan already bought. As I turned my attention to cutting off the water valves beneath the sink, Sally passed nearby and spoke. “Did you eat your corn?”

That’s when I became aware of two dolls sitting by the table in highchairs. There actually was no corn and no plates to hold any food. These urchins would have been identical, except Sally had hacked off the hair of one and made it a boy. Her blaming the kids for clogging the toilet connected.

As I continued the faucet work, she said she had things to do and went out the door carrying a gardening spade.

I was completing the list when Sally returned. She paused inside the doorway, beaming proudly.

“I’ve been working,” she said.

She held up a weed measuring perhaps eight or ten inches in length. She had done such a perfect job of extracting it from the ground that not a leaf had been damaged. The soil on the roots had been cleaned away and they were also complete and perfect. I found myself liking this person.

“You’ve done a marvelous job,” I said.

I cleaned up after myself and took my leave. I left hoping for an opportunity to help her more.
I didn’t need Nathan’s services for a few months. When next we met I asked for an update on Sally.

“She’s becoming violent,” he said. “When we take her clothes to give her a bath, she says, ‘These are my clothes’ and fights to keep them on. She has gotten unmanageable. There’s no choice but to put her in a home.”

I took the news with disappointment. We continued to work and life went on. For a time I had all interior work but finally needed Nathan’s services again.

I didn’t have to ask about his mother. Nathan immediately showed some photos he had taken of her in the home. I saw a woman on a bed with an arm in a cast and a great black circle on her face around one eye.

“I’ve tried to get her back, but they won’t let me,” he said.

I shared his frustration. Heartless bureaucracy gives power to the heartless. As he’d made clear, there was no way to rescue Sally. She was trapped in a horror show with one inevitable end. She succumbed to the brutality and soon was laid to rest. I quit mentioning her to Nathan in the times we were in contact.

Nathan had his own health problems, of which he never complained in my presence. Then he told me of an agency that offered to re-home him to help with his medical situation. It meant giving up the business and moving to the far side of the city. With no fanfare, he moved and left me with his son to deal with the roofs. The son and I were not compatible – I won’t say more – and we soon parted ways.
Often I think of Nathan and wish him well. I hope they made his life better. May his mother rest in peace.

My second youngest daughter (I have three) just moved back from two years in Colorado. She couldn't stand another cold winter. The oldest lived for a time in Reno. Like me, they try to leave Texas, but we all come back.

Half of my politically minded friends and family ignore me for not supporting Republicans. The other half for not supporting Democrats. Can't wait for the next election cycle to piss them off more.

I grew up thinking we were on the upside of history. Such a disappointment to discern we are on the downside.

The monkeys still are free. I hope some good samaritan rescues them from the life they have led.

Re your previous comment: Sort of mimics the fall of Rome.

I missed the connection to the subject of monkeys. Care to explain?

The technician failed to close the door on a group of lab monkeys. They escaped into the trees weeks ago and most haven't been caught. I posted earlier on this thread about it, urging them to get to Florida.

I never got comfortable with Libre for a word processor. I ordered a disc player for the PC. Tomorrow I expect to install Microsoft Works 9. Then I can start a new manuscript.

This WWIII is going to disrupt my quiet life, I just know it. The **** can't people back off and try diplomacy and good neighbor policies?

Figures. The new computer doesn't accept my disc, although I've used it on a number of PCs of the same brand.

I got Word back. Now I plan to instead of immediately write new stuff take the best of my old stuff and publish it on Lulu, after re-editing. That should keep me busy into next year. I won't try to use Kindle because most of the material has been seen publicly already.

My wife and I are having Thanksgiving at home, alone. That is our preference. We were invited to a big affair at a daughter's home but declined. It will just be us, Ringo the dog, and on the porch the stray cat named Frank (the cat was not named for any person, living or dead. He is a handsome Tuxedo cat but with a black chest). Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

Some weeks ago I went to open my shed door because I needed to run the lawn mower. After I unlocked it and pulled on it my finger was stung by a wasp or hornet, something I didn't see. It was obviously nesting inside the shed, likely just above the door. I hurried away and avoided the shed after that. I did buy one of the long distance cans of wasp spray but did not know how to reach them without getting stung. Youtube has dozens of schemes to rid your yard of them. I've tried just one so far. The guy said to mix a tad of Dawn dish liquid in a bowl of apple juice. He mentioned killing 99 wasps in one day. I set it by the shed and went to bed. The next morning there were no dead wasps and the bowl was empty. Obviously a stray cat or a squirrel or two drank it. So I am back at square one. More later.

The older I get the less I respect a broader spectrum of people.

The travails of the littlest authors.

Jennifer Gessner Weible · 2h ·
I require guidance on promoting my husband's book. He published with a local Pittsburgh company, and we paid a significant amount. They sent a press release to numerous outlets and a card to local bookstores and libraries. However, my email efforts have been unsuccessful. I use my husband's email address due to my technical expertise. What promotional methods do authors commonly use? I aim to have my husband participate in the Los Angeles book festival, which involves sending his book and a $1,200 fee. The festival draws over 100,000 attendees each year. Can anyone offer suggestions?

I may never sell thousands of books but I will never spend thousands of dollars trying to convince people. - eb

There is a Screenwriting For Dummies book out there. Thinking of turning story number five of Endearthers, "Teapot's Empire" into a movie script.

I spent most of my life deriding the novel, Don Quixote. I still cannot make myself read all of it. But I fairly recently read a person who pointed out that the novel is actually really good, that the English translations are what sucks. He said the novel is witty and tells its story in an entertaining fashion. So I will consider it good enough to stop the attacks.

Title of my new in the works tale:
Spacer: The Last of the Species