Old Men Who Give Old a Bad Name
January 4: Waiting at the pharmacy for my prescriptions. I'm looking at the remedies on the shelves for cold sores, chapped cows udders - the salve for which I guess works great on human hands and lips, lice shampoos, etc. I hear an old man come in and start off complaining how his insurance won't cover his prescription. Right away, he blames "Bama" for it all. How he's spending all our money in other countries instead of here. How he's making a mess of health care. How we're all gonna die and it will be his fault. But it won't matter anyway because somebody's gonna shoot him soon enough. What a mess he's made of everything. I don't turn around, and instead examine ear drop solutions. If the old badger were to engage me, I'm not sure he'd like what I have to say to him. The only thing I could think to say would be: "With all you have to complain about, what are you doing to make the world a better place? What do you do that you get out of bed for every day where you think to yourself, 'This will help to make the world better for everybody.'? Because you bitchin' about it isn't doing anybody any good." Cocoa butter lotion. I could use some of that.
Old Men Who Give Old a Good Name
January 5: Waiting room to get my blood drawn. The only other person there is an old man. He smiles and says hello to me. I smile back, say good morning. He comments on the cold. Not as bad as it has been, I say. He says he's been in Kentucky. Tells me about the flea market he went to, "As big as from here to Euclid" he says. That's at least six blocks away. I tell him he had it good. Missed the worst of the weather. He laughs and tells me he's seen plenty in his day. I tell him I hope he sees plenty more. He laughs, and I laugh with him.
We have plenty of role models for our old age all around us. What kind of role model will you be? What kind of role model are you?
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Friday, January 01, 2010
January 2010
Walking through Midland Street, Bay City, Michigan
January 1, 2010 at 8:00am
Down to the River Walk with Scrappy. A thin layer of fluffy snow hides the ice patches, catches us on occasion, but neither of us fall. Nobody else around, but the tracks of humans and their dogs. Who else would get up so early on New Year's Day? Dogs, not their people.
The snow on Midland street is trampled through. Outside the Lumberbaron, brightly colored confetti is frozen to the sidewalk, black styrofoam takeout boxes litter the lot, red and white checkered pizza slice papers tumble along in the wind.
Lucky's still has their outdoor speakers on, some inane rock and roll ballad blares as we walk past, then fades to dissonance in the cold. The guy with his chow mix walks on the other side of the street. "Your dog doesn't like mine," he said to me once. His chow barks, snaps and snarls - would attack us if that leash broke - that guy has a skewed perception of which dog has the issue. "Happy new year!" I call to him across the street, over his monster's snarls. He nods and waves, tells the dog to shut up after we pass.
Dorr's restaurant is open for breakfast. Cheese omelet with potatoes is the special today. The waitress leans heaviy onto the counter, looking out the window but past us walking by. Her hair hangs in loose clumps out of her pony tail. Here she is not five hours later, ready to serve the hungover patrons who won't remember playing grabass with her last night, or that they stiffed her on the tip. She's tired, but she'll remember.
A crumpled black jacket lays in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the last bar. It's lightly dusted with snow, and I think to pick it up, but then decide against it. It makes it's own kind of art there: NYD 2010 - The Morning After Sidewalk. At least there wasn't any puke - not on this side of the street anyway. I'm sure on the Mean Chow side there was some - usually by the Westside there's a pile, along with frozen pee that starts partway up the building wall and makes it's way down the sidewalk.
Oh, to think of all the fun I miss by staying home on New Year's Eve, not going to the bars until midnight and then drinking until 2am. I can't remember the last time I side the other side of midnight, let alone 2am. No, I'll take these mornings any day over late nights. The cold, crisp calm of winter morning sunrises. The quiet walk down to the river, frozen over and still. Empty city streets. This is a much better way to start a new year, and hope it stays just as dull the whole year long.
January 1, 2010 at 8:00am
Down to the River Walk with Scrappy. A thin layer of fluffy snow hides the ice patches, catches us on occasion, but neither of us fall. Nobody else around, but the tracks of humans and their dogs. Who else would get up so early on New Year's Day? Dogs, not their people.
The snow on Midland street is trampled through. Outside the Lumberbaron, brightly colored confetti is frozen to the sidewalk, black styrofoam takeout boxes litter the lot, red and white checkered pizza slice papers tumble along in the wind.
Lucky's still has their outdoor speakers on, some inane rock and roll ballad blares as we walk past, then fades to dissonance in the cold. The guy with his chow mix walks on the other side of the street. "Your dog doesn't like mine," he said to me once. His chow barks, snaps and snarls - would attack us if that leash broke - that guy has a skewed perception of which dog has the issue. "Happy new year!" I call to him across the street, over his monster's snarls. He nods and waves, tells the dog to shut up after we pass.
Dorr's restaurant is open for breakfast. Cheese omelet with potatoes is the special today. The waitress leans heaviy onto the counter, looking out the window but past us walking by. Her hair hangs in loose clumps out of her pony tail. Here she is not five hours later, ready to serve the hungover patrons who won't remember playing grabass with her last night, or that they stiffed her on the tip. She's tired, but she'll remember.
A crumpled black jacket lays in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the last bar. It's lightly dusted with snow, and I think to pick it up, but then decide against it. It makes it's own kind of art there: NYD 2010 - The Morning After Sidewalk. At least there wasn't any puke - not on this side of the street anyway. I'm sure on the Mean Chow side there was some - usually by the Westside there's a pile, along with frozen pee that starts partway up the building wall and makes it's way down the sidewalk.
Oh, to think of all the fun I miss by staying home on New Year's Eve, not going to the bars until midnight and then drinking until 2am. I can't remember the last time I side the other side of midnight, let alone 2am. No, I'll take these mornings any day over late nights. The cold, crisp calm of winter morning sunrises. The quiet walk down to the river, frozen over and still. Empty city streets. This is a much better way to start a new year, and hope it stays just as dull the whole year long.
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