The Colonel’s First Story, pt. 5

February 20, 2014.Reading time 2 minutes.

Today I submit the final installment of the Colonel’s First Story. I hope you have enjoyed it. To start from the beginning, click here: Part 1

The children all rose in a disorganized fashion and wandered back to their play except little Sally who stood beside him smiling, still holding her hand on his knee.

“What’s your name?” she asked with an innocent lisp that was immediately endearing.

“I, Sally, am Colonel Clarence J. Birdwhistle,” he replied.

“Why do you have such funny whiskers?”

Although her mother quickly shushed her, the question dripped of sugar and honey to the ears of the old man.

“Well, my dear,” he said stroking the side of his face. “They are traditional for a man of my age. It seems that it was just a few years ago when everyone had them. Sometimes it is difficult for a man to let go of things from their past.”

She leaned up, put both hands on the side of his face and whispered in his ear, “Mr. Birdsong. I still like monkeys.”

Having said what she needed to, she bade him farewell and left. He hadn’t the faintest desire to correct his name, and in the light of little Sally’s affection, even monkeys seemed more favorable to him at that moment.

*******************

As you can see, the Colonel is a worthy storyteller who, unbeknownst to even himself, has a wonderful way with children. He and Sally develop a very special relationship as the book continues. As fate would have it, Sally is the younger sister of Henry Lee, whose friendship with Virgil Creech is mentored by the old Brit. But that’s tale for a different time.

Thanks for taking time to read a story from the Colonel. I am excited to say that book number two from Portsong is in the final edit stage and should be ready in the Spring! Yes, the menace returns (along with a healthy dose of more stable characters like the Colonel) in Virgil Creech Sings for his Supper.

The DVR Effect on Husbands

February 11, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

I have always been told I was a selective listener. If I were called to stand trial for this deficiency, my mother would be the first witness called to the stand. Countless times my chin rested in her hand while she said those five words all boys hate: “Let me see your eyes!”

Teacher after teacher could give valid testimony against me. But the prosecution’s star witness would be the woman who’s suffered with my malady for the longest – my poor wife. When I zone out, she constantly gives me the look that lets me know she’s onto me. Rarely does she patronize me with the five-word command, but she has ways of making sure I’m listening. Some are gentle, some are not.

When we found out I had hearing loss in both ears, I immediately pegged it as the culprit. Truth be known, it’s not. If I were brutally honest, I would admit that I hear some things and choose to keep my head down. Unknowing, unhearing, un-responsible for whatever I’m being told. I know, it’s not healthy and not good. But don’t act all holier than thou, men. As if your sense of smell suddenly abandons you whenever you hand your baby back to your wife and didn’t happen to notice their full diaper.

So there has always been an irritation. The onset of the Digital Video Recorder has grown it to a plague. In my television viewing, no longer am I required to pay attention to anything. I can give the TV a cursory glance and if I want to go back, I can hit the magical button that pushes time backwards fifteen seconds to fill in the blanks. It is amazing! It is brilliant! It is revolutionary…but not for relationships.

Because of the DVR, I don’t listen to anyone when they begin talking to me anymore. It’s not my fault, my brain has been conditioned that the first fifteen seconds of anything don’t matter because I have a magic button. “Honey, can you get the large pot from the cabinet, fill it with water, and put it on to boil,” becomes the simple phrase, “to boil,” which means absolutely nothing, thereby absolving me of any responsibility to help in the kitchen.

This is excellent news for me, but not for my wife. You see, she doesn’t have the receiver that takes the signal from the magic button – nor does she want one. She will repeat herself, but seems to be very annoyed when forced, at which point I naturally point to my ears and claim hearing loss. After twenty-one years, she knows that game well and wins it more often than not. Defeated, I put on water to boil and wish I could learn to pay attention.

Fortunately for our marriage, I don’t watch much TV. But when I do, I hold the magic button in my hand and am invigorated! And the cycle begins anew.