Tag: #IAN1

‘The Library of Life’

The Library of Life

So often I’m inside myself, searching for the reason I am here on this great orb, so I write my blogs, my books, usually from some aspect of life that beguiles me, terrifies me, or gives me joy. Within the words and phrases of those blogs and books are at times subtle glimpses of universal truths. Wrapping my arms around those subtleties does not bring me the comprehension to understand, but, that they are there, that in writing them, give me some hope that my words in some small way speak to the lives of us all, give meaning to the daily wanderings of our minds, the tedious chores, the chaos, and the wonderment of it all. In all of this I sense a purpose for my living, and there is a literary ‘Saint’ among us who says it so much better than ever I could.

Please ponder these few words from Susan Orlean’s 2018 best seller, The Library Book, rich with some of the most lovely words and phrases a writer can put on paper. Just a few words of ‘back story’, and I shall give you the section from her book that perhaps says it all for me…

That is part of this simple ‘back story’…. My lovely daughter-in-law, Cindy Ruecker, sent Susan Orlean to Julie Anne and me, well, not literally, of course, but her book mentioned above. Our dear Cindy mentioned that, in her reading of The Library Book she thought of me…she at one time years ago typed for me part of a manuscript I had written. When I interrupted her with a question, she quickly told me while she was typing in world speed-breaking time to, ‘hush, I’m reading this as I type and I want to see what is going to happen next’. Cindy is the fastest typist I’ve ever seen type among the secretaries I’ve had and/or anyone in a typing pool – along, of course, with my own wife who is also very swift with her dancing fingers.

At that time, I was so pleased that Cindy ‘hushed me’ because her words resonated with me, giving me some hope for success that my writing might bring. Cindy is part of a ‘Reading Group’ that meets and discusses the book they’ve chosen to read on a given week. This is my way of saying, when Cindy likes a book, is really into it, then I’m comforted that maybe my work has validity. It means so very much to me.

So, that’s the simple ‘back story’, and I shall forever be grateful to Cindy for sending my wife and me The Library Book by Susan Orlean, the Simon & Schuster best-selling author of, The Orchid Thief. It’s an honor for me to recommend Susan Orlean to anyone reading these humble words of mine. Her words flow from the pages with wonderful clarity and meaning.

Now, on to the one page of all the three hundred plus pages in Susan’s book that held me captive, and, with some ‘old man tears’. I think you will love these words and Susan’s book as much as I… Good reading.

The Library Book

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Best wishes to all.

Billy Ray Chitwood – April 18, 2019

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Come, Stray Along

Come, Stray Along

-An Old Man Ranting-

It won’t be a long stray…my mind won’t allow it, and that is good news for those who might not enjoy the straying. Yet, here shall I stray.

I watch Fox News. Oops, I’ve already lost a few of you, I’m sure, but on I go, straying.

I watch Fox News because I wish to hear undiluted words and phrases that present a fairly accurate report of what is happening in the world around me. It’s been years that I gave up on the various network prime time newscasts.

If you wish your news reported without any filters, simply provable facts, then, I would recommend Fox News.

Oh, there are ‘Opinion Shows’ on Fox News that have a conservative cast, but I don’t find indictments of people (close) or mis-truths on this channel (but can be harsh), at least none that my Appalachian brain has been able to discern. If there is a careless negative and/or positive claim that proves incorrect, it is quickly and honestly so claimed.

So, why the ‘stray’?

My ‘Stray’ is written here because I care for my country, fear for my country, and wish only the very best for my country, my kids, my grandkids, and great grandkids.

Am I pure? Am I without a past layered with some mishandling of my life? Of course, I am not. I’ve made plenty personal mistakes, and, in younger years, I was not attentive to politics and the news in general – my head was filled with romantic mush and tomfoolery.

When I left college and the classroom I came to my conservative way of thinking. What do I mean by ‘my conservative way of thinking’? I mean by that phrase that I’ve come to know my country through not only local, national, but, as well, through international lenses. I’ve visited many countries. I’ve lived for a few years in Mexico, so, at least, to some extent, I have a voice that has some validity with which to convey my feelings.

I’ve watched presidents come/go, watched career politicians running our government, and I’ve had my heroes and my villains. My political feelings are just that, feelings, not political theories and/or policy stances, and those feelings are all steeped in one great document, the ‘Constitution of the United States of America’. Can I recite for you that document? No way. Can I ‘run on and on’ about a particular article or an amendment of that grand and aged document? Some, maybe, but, no, I really cannot. However, I do know for sure that our forefathers fought, died, went through their own kind of hell to forge that great document. Ergo, for all their early hard-fought efforts, I love the country they left me and mine. History tells their story in our red, white, striped flag, blue stars, and grand songs.

There is another fact that I know to be true: we are the country which the world envies, and, if that envy is not overtly shown to all of us, you can believe it is respected. I’m sure even China and Russia respect us. Our government leaders will make mistakes, do make mistakes, have made mistakes, but, when the chips go down on the table, our patriots are ready to play.

Today, our country seems to be walking an historical tightrope, democrats unhappy in our choice for a president, entrenched in their hatred for our Commander-in-Chief, taking their fight to unseat him to the very negative edge of decency and democratic fairness.

Where I live, in my heart and mind, I see the actions of this man we call on to make our country great again – in the sense that we could have done better in the previous eight years, maybe, back farther – as a man who can shock us with his words, maybe, even, embarrass us, but also a dedicated man who has already taken us to record market growth, created millions of new jobs in many sectors of our economy, brought back manufacturing, rid all business, large and small of tedious government regulations, taken employment figures to all-time ‘high wages’ for the minorities in our nation, kept his promise to defeat ISIS, got us out of the ill-fated Iranian Nuclear Deal, and stopped apologizing for America to the nations of the world.

Our president, Donald Trump, is no Saint, has a businessman’s approach to solving some of our problems, does tweet and speak daily in some harsh tones, does not pretend to be anyone but who he is, does truly care for our country, and wants to give back to a nation that has given him so much.

So, I can dismiss easily the fact that this man we call President is in any shade like the people who have preceded him, but he is for sure getting the job done.

No big surprise, my chips are all in for our President Donald Trump.

One last thing before I decide whether or not to post this and forever be hated.

President Trump’s number one concern is for America to be safe and secure, hence his wish to build a great wall on our southern border to minimize the illegal entry into our country of millions of people. Many of these illegal aliens in our country have been deported time and again, have murdered, raped, robbed, and some of our cities and states have offered illegals sanctuary…this is perhaps the most difficult subject to understand. We do not have a country if we do not have borders. To have open borders is to destroy our cherished country and our constitution.

I simply do not get it! How can we not come together to get this country on its true path? How can we ignore the guiding pages of our U. S. Constitution? If enough of us do not like this president, 2020 is just around the corner…we can vote him out.

Our country is not perfect by any stretch, but it’s the democracy that all nations respect for its freedom and liberty.

Oh, what the hell! While I’m at it, how can we have people in our halls of congress that wish to destroy us with their socialistic B/S, young moronic kids who believe in their minds we have trillions of dollars to solve all of our climate and social problems?

Has anyone visited Venezuela lately?

Come on, America! Wake up! This is our home! This is our country! Freedom lives here! Liberty lives here! For a while longer, the old coot writing these fiery words lives here!

Let go the hatred!

Billy Ray Chitwood – April 9, 2019

 

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Come, Stray Along

Come, Stray Along

-An Old Man’s Ranting-

It won’t be a long stray…my mind won’t allow it, and that is good news for those who might not enjoy the straying. Yet, here shall I stray.

I watch Fox News. Oops, I’ve already lost a few of you, I’m sure, but on I go, straying.

I watch Fox News because I wish to hear undiluted words and phrases that present a fairly accurate report of what is happening in the world around me. It’s been years since I gave up on the various network prime time newscasts.

If you wish your news reported without any filters, simply provable facts, then, I would recommend Fox News.

Oh, there are ‘Opinion Shows’ on Fox News that have a conservative cast, but I don’t find indictments of people (close, at times) or mis-truths on this channel (but can be harsh), at least none that my Appalachian brain has been able to discern. If there is a careless negative and/or positive claim that proves incorrect, it is quickly and honestly so claimed.

So, why the ‘stray’?

My ‘Stray’ is written here because I care for my country, fear for my country, and wish only the very best for my country, my kids, my grandkids, and great grandkids.

Am I pure? Am I without a past layered with some mishandling of my life? Of course, I am not. I’ve made plenty personal mistakes, and, in younger years, I was not attentive to politics and the news in general – I loved John Kennedy’s ‘Camelot Years’, and my head was filled with romantic mush and tomfoolery.

When I left college and the classroom I came to my conservative way of thinking. What do I mean by ‘my conservative way of thinking’? I mean by that phrase that I’ve come to know my country through not only local, national, but, as well, through international lenses. I’ve visited many countries. I’ve lived for a few years in Mexico, so, at least, to some extent, I have a voice that has some validity with which to convey my feelings.

I’ve watched presidents come/go, watched many career politicians running our government, and I’ve had my heroes and my villains. My political feelings are just that, feelings, not political theories and/or policy stances, and those feelings are all steeped in one great document, the ‘Constitution of the United States of America’. Can I recite for you that document? No way. Can I ‘run on and on’ about a particular article or an amendment of that grand and aged document? Some, maybe, but, no, I really cannot. However, I do know for sure that our forefathers fought, died, went through their own kind of hell to forge that great document. Ergo, for all their early hard-fought efforts, I love the country they left me and mine. History tells their story in our red, white, striped flag, blue stars, and grand songs. Is it just me, or, are our schools still teaching American History, our wars, our sacrifices of so many of our young people on the beaches and the fields across the pond? Are we losing sight of our grand past by tearing down statues conveying historic meanings? Yes, I’m begging the questions!

There is fact that I know to be true: we are the country which the world envies, and, if that envy is not overtly shown to all of us, you can believe it is respected. I’m sure even China and Russia respect us. Our government leaders will make mistakes, do make mistakes, have made mistakes, but, when the chips go down on the table, our patriots are ready to play.

Today, our country seems to be walking an historical tightrope. Democrats are so unhappy in our choice for a president, They control the House of Representatives but are so entrenched in their hatred for our Commander-in-Chief, taking their fight to unseat him to the very negative edge of decency and democratic fairness. I’m not big on writing blog posts that deal with politics. It is so divisive and ugly. 

However, where I live, in my heart and mind, I’ve watched the actions of this man we called on to make our country great again – with a solid sense that we could have done better in the previous eight years, maybe, back farther. President Donald Trump is a man who can shock us with his words, maybe, even, embarrass us, but he is also a dedicated man striving to fulfill his campaign promises. He has already taken us to record market growth, created millions of new jobs in many sectors of our economy, brought back manufacturing, rid all business, large and small of tedious government regulations, reduced unemployment down to 4%. He has taken  employment figures to all-time ‘high wages’ for the minorities in our nation, kept his promise to defeat ISIS (‘defeat’, he said, and, maybe, but more likely, not totally). He did severly damage ISIS! Hegot us out of the ill-fated Iranian Nuclear Deal, and stopped apologizing for America to the nations of the world. President Trump is brash, but it’s way past time to shed our hatred of this man and think about our country…if we haven’t noticed, it’s going too far to the left of center.

President Donald Trump is no Saint, has a businessman’s approach to solving some of our problems, does tweet and speak daily in some harsh tones, admittedly not so eloquently as some presidents in the past, but he does not pretend to be anyone but who he is, and I’m convinced he truly cares for our country, and wants to give back to a nation that has given him so much. That rises for me far above displeasure – or, hatred.

So, I can dismiss easily the fact that this man we call President is in any shade like the people who have preceded him, but he is for sure getting the job done.

No big surprise, my chips are all in for our President Donald Trump.

One last thing before I decide whether or not to post this and forever be hated.

President Trump’s number one concern is for America to be safe and secure, hence his wish to build a great wall on our southern border to minimize the illegal entry into our country of millions of people. Many of these illegal aliens in our country have been deported time and again, have murdered, raped, robbed, and some of our cities and states have offered illegals sanctuary. Immigration in our country is out of control. This is perhaps the most difficult subject to understand. We do not have a country if we do not have borders. To have open borders is to destroy our cherished country, our constitution, and our way of life.

I simply do not get it! How can we not come together to get this country on its true path? How can we ignore the guiding pages of our U. S. Constitution? If enough of us do not like this president, 2020 is just around the corner…we can vote him out.

Our country is not perfect by any stretch, but it’s the democracy that all nations respect for its freedom and liberty.

Oh, what the hell! While I’m at it, how can we have people in our halls of congress that wish to destroy us with their socialistic B/S, young moronic kids who believe in their minds we have trillions of dollars to solve all of our climate and social problems, lecturing to us on principles of Economy? The ‘House of Representatives’ is  allowing their hatred for our duly elected president and their desire to maintain their ‘Power’ by systematically letting hundreds of thousands illegal immigrants to come into our country. The argument doesn’t wash that ‘we are a country of immigrants’! Of course, we are but the vast majority came the way of my ancestors, the legal way, and assimilation took place with these people, learning English along with our rights and privileges. 

Yes, there is a grave emergency in our beloved country! The emergency has at its root hatred, and, friends, it is viral! 

The ‘House’ is not doing their job. They’re mired in continuing a ‘Special’ probe that has gone on for over two years, stalling, manufacturing untruths when they should be handling the immigration issue, providing funding for a ‘Wall’, doing a virtual re-haul of our entire ‘Immigration Laws’. Instead, they’re endeavoring to pass a law that does away with the ‘Electoral College’ – allowing in essence a few states to dictate who our ‘Commander-in-Chief’ will be! What craziness is this? It is an engaged craziness by groups of people attempting a ‘power grab’ of our Constitution and our country.

Yes, there are Crazy times in the United States of America, but we can recover with intelligent, active, and positive participation in our most cherished Democratic ideals. 

Has anyone visited Venezuela lately?

Come on, America! Wake up! This is our home! This is our country! Freedom lives here! Liberty lives here! For a while longer, the old coot writing these fiery words lives here!

Let us let go the hatred!

Billy Ray Chitwood – April 9, 2019

 

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Ode to Lamentation

Ode to Lamentation

 

What is it makes us yearn?

Lonely in peculiar ways?

Is it only hearts of Romantics

That connect to life’s gauzy haze?

 

What of a past we must give up?

Nights in love’s joyous cloud?

Is it so simple to pass and merely

Become one with the crowd?

 

What mocks us most in life?

The mistakes we made in our pace?

The glory that might have been?

Or the wrinkles upon our face?

 

Does dimension lie beyond this orb?

Does Heaven or Hell Await?

Tis written, ‘ours not to know’?

Doth then we yield to fate?

*

©Billy Ray Chitwood – April 6, 2019

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Can You Hear Me?

“Can You Hear Me?”

Pre-dawn, rain storm, and fear gripped me like thousands of little fire ants crawling over my naked body, stinging as they hurriedly moved helter-skelter across my skin.

My forefingers rubbed irritated eyes as the darkness moved on the wall in front of me like angry waves lapping on a stormy coast, grotesque shapes of all sizes in staccato persistence…but it was those deep and growling whispers that tore at my sanity. What was this madness of movement and dulled sound?

For some unearthly reason, an aberrant thought came to my frenetic mind… a distorted and disoriented man with gaping mouth standing silently on a walking bridge screaming without sound. Was there madness occupying my mind and body in these dark hours?

My trembling body sought refuge under the bed covers. The ominous whispers were coming audibly low, rhythmic, but I could not make them out. I felt childish in my fear. Why not get up, turn a light on, and see if there was some logical reason for these melodic murmurings? Alone, I could admit to myself that I was too paralyzed with fright to move.

So, I cowed there beneath the covers, the unmuffled bass whispers still there, still melodic but also changing in different modulations.

Time was lost to me as I lay there in my fetus position on the edge of despair. The whispering had somehow merged into a harmonic blend, coming with the merciful daylight.

Tentatively I stretched my body full-length on the king-size bed and slowly pushed back the covers.

My wide eyes scanned the bedroom, saw nothing but the furniture and a splash of sunlight on the western wall. The whispers were now subdued into a musical sound, almost lovely to the ear.

What the hell was going on?

Was a radio on in the apartment?

I rose from the bed, padded to the closet, put on a robe, and walked into the living room. There was nothing out of place or different about any of the rooms in my bachelor pad. I stood looking out the window at the wondrous blue of the sky and chuckled.

But, wait!

The radio was not on, yet still I heard the whispering musical sounds. I was at a loss to explain it.

After a fast breakfast, I called my doctor, gave him a brief recap of my early AM experience, set a mid-day emergency appointment at 11:30 AM.

*

Soon after my long-time doctor ran auditory tests, he came into the examination room and stood stoically in front of me with a put-on capricious look. We were also friends and golf buddies, so I knew the man very well.

“Okay, Doc, the dramatic pose is good but are you going to let me in on it?”

“Just funning you, buddy. Sorry, but I had to confirm my suspicion. You, Frankie, my friend, have MES.”

Again, he just stood and smiled.

“Well, what the hell is MES, Doc? Must not be too serious, or, you’re a masochist, making me beg for answers.”

MES is an acronym for ‘Musical Ear Syndrome’ – that’s what you have. It’s a rare medical anomaly. You have your very own music system built into your brain.”

“Well, is it a temporary thing? Is it something I have to live with?”

“We know of no treatment for Musical Ear Syndrome at this time. It’s a relatively new phenomenon that only a few people acquire. It’s akin to Tinnitus. I’m afraid it’s something you have to live with, good buddy.”

“It scared me, Doctor Ben, really, truly, scared the hell out of me. The sound started out loud and low like a threatening voice until it finally settled into a slow melodic monotone.”

“It’s likely music you’ve heard over the years playing back for you.”

“Can other people hear this MES music?”

“No, just you, Frankie. You’re one of the select few.”

“Well, ‘bully’ for that, but it’s going to be annoying, Doc.”

“Yes, I suppose it can be in the beginning. You’ll get accustomed to it. It should level off sooner than later. At some point you may need hearing aids, and they will help with the MES.”

“Hearing aids? Damn, I’m not that old, Doc. Hell, you’re the old man here, Ben. What? Three years older than I, you old coot.”

“I know, but hearing is not restricted to us old folks. Soon, you won’t even know the music is playing. And, hey, the song could be one of your favorites.”

“Very funny, Doc. You get no strokes on any of the next golf holes we play.”

“So, that’s the tune you’re going to play for me?”

“Still funny, Doc, but don’t give up your day job…a lot of comics are out of work.”

Billy Ray Chitwood – April 4, 2019

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The House on Guthrie Place

The House on Guthrie Place

[All Dialogue]

“Hi, Sweetheart. Did you see the house?”

“Yes. It was immaculately beautiful, but I was frightened, Barry!”

“Why were you frightened, Edie?”

“It was the realtor’s eyes, I think, for the most part. They were menacing in their hungry stares, with an almost reddish-glow. It was enough to make me shiver with fear.”

“Where were you in the house? Which room in the house?”

“In the master bedroom. He was showing me how to work the on/off gas switch at the fireplace. It was a beautiful room, an awesome home with a rich and wonderful elegance. He bent down to reach the switch, and I bent over to see the spot and accidently brushed his side. When we stood up I had the strange notion he was going to grab me, and I took a step back toward the entry door to the master bedroom. That was the moment his eyes seemed to penetrate me, eyed me with a bold and scary stare.”

“What did you do then?”

“Well, I wasn’t positive my mind was recording the scene as I felt it so I tried to act normal, whatever that means, you know, I said: ‘Okay, can we see the kitchen and the patio area?’ and hurriedly took leave of the master bedroom.”

“And, did he show you the kitchen and patio area?”

“Yes, and as he opened the patio’s sliding glass-doors, he made body contact with me, and, I believe it was his intent to do so.”

“I rushed toward the hallway that leads to the front entrance and mumbled some silly gibberish, like, ‘Well, thank you for showing me the house. It’s very nice. I’ll bring my husband by to see it’.”

“Is that it, then, you just left? Where was the real estate agent when you left?”

“He followed me outside, acted befuddled, and yelled: ‘Are you alright, Mrs. Branson’?”

“I yelled back, ‘Yes, just running late, thank you’, and he had the last yell, ’you have my card, Mrs. Branson. Call me when you and your husband want to preview the house.’ Then, I zipped away from the curb fast, wanting to put distance between me and Nolan Wentz – just in case he planned on following me.”

“Are you sure in your own mind, Edie, that you’re not over-reacting to this encounter?”

“Well, not completely, no, and I would hate myself for the thoughts I had in that lovely house if I’m over-reacting… Call it whatever you will, Barry, but I felt my skin crawl with a ‘danger alert’, I’m convinced of that. His eyes were the ‘danger alert’, along with the touching in the master bedroom and at the patio sliding doors. With all of that, Barry, I loved the house, and you would, too. I know you would. We’ve been looking for exactly this house. I know you would love it. Are you thinking I’m embellishing all of this?”

“No, I don’t think that at all…just running the event in my mind. This could be very important, but it’s surely not enough to alert the police. Let me see his business card.”

“I put it in my purse… here, here it is.”

“Hmm, his name is Nolan Wentz…sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t know him. I’ve seen the name somewhere, likely in my travels.”

“What are you doing? Are you calling him?”

“Yes. I want to see the house, number one, because I want to get us out of this high-rise apartment, and, I want to check out this guy.”

“Are you sure, Barry? I do love the house, but do I have to go with you? I don’t want to see that guy again.”

 “Yes, I want you along, just in case we’re both of a mind to buy the place. I told you six months ago when we met and fell in love we would buy our dream house, and I intend to keep my word. The money is not an issue, and, if this is the house of your dreams and mine, we will buy it… shh, the phone is ringing.”

“Is Mr. Wentz in, please?”

“May I say who’s calling?”

“Barry Branson…he had a showing with my wife earlier and I would like to see the house.”

“Thank you, sir. Just a moment, please.”

“This is Nolan, how can I help you, Mr. Branson?”

“Hi, Nolan, call me, Barry, please. You showed my wife a house on Guthrie Place. She likes it very much so we would like to preview it again. When can you be available to show the house?”

“My time is easy, Barry. I can be at the Guthrie Place estate this afternoon or tomorrow afternoon. I have appointments in the morning.”

“Good. We’re easy, too, so can we meet at 3:00 PM this afternoon at the Guthrie Place residence?”

“I’ll be happy to meet you there at 3:00 PM, Barry. Your wife, I believe, has the gate code for Guthrie Place?”

“Yes, she has it, Nolan, so we’ll see you there at 3:00 PM. Good-bye.”

“Okay, Edie, you heard, we’re set for 3:00 PM. I know you’re nervous about seeing the guy, but I’ll be with you. Hey, it just could be our dream home.”

*

“The area is fantastic, Edie, so much greenery, flowers, trees, and the waterfall at the gate is a great selling point. The homes are all custom-built and so lovely.”

“Wait until you see the home, Barry. It’s fantastic. I just hope I’m wrong about Nolan Wentz.”

“Me, too, sweetheart. Hell, I feel at home already…”

“Okay, this is it, Barry, there, where the two tall palm trees stand. The Homeowners Association allows curb parking for possible buyers of property. Just park here.”

“Hey, I like our new house number, 711 Guthrie Drive. That’s a great number on the green felt of a Las Vegas casino crap table. Sounds somehow ‘right’ just saying it. I know, I know. We have a dual-purpose here. ‘Scope out Nolan Wentz and like the house’.

“Ah, the birds are tweeting, welcoming us to our new home, Edie…love the flagstone walkway treatment and drive-way. Hmm, I see Mr. Wentz at the front door waiting for us. Good-looking dude. How nice, big smile and all. Hope you’re wrong about the man, Edie.”

“Hi, folks, come on in. Welcome to your new home…sorry if I’m being presumptuous, Mr. and Mrs. Branson. Just trying for levity. How are you, Mrs. Branson? You left so fast earlier today, you had me worried.”

“Just running late to meet Barry for lunch.”

“Well, why don’t I put away my sales pitch and you two make the rounds inside and out. I’ll be right here in the parlor if you need to ask questions about anything, anything at all…”

“What lovely furnishings! Edie never mentioned…”

“Oh, she didn’t know, but all the furniture stays. It’s ‘turn-key’ and that includes all the kitchen goodies, china, silverware, plates, the whole enchilada, as they say… An unfortunate divorce and neither one wants to come near the house again. Crazy, huh? You, Barry, I’m betting, will fall in love with the exercise room and large steam shower – it will seat at least six people, that is, if there’s a need for that many…but, you two go ahead and make yourselves at home. Each residence in Guthrie Place sets on one-half acre and most of the homes have pools and spas, out-door kitchens, and very lovely landscaping…yell if you need a question answered…”

“Nolan’s a good-looking guy, Edie. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would come onto a client…not that I think you were mis-representing anything…just saying.”

“You know, I agree, Barry. It all had to be just me! Gawd! It’s like I’m previewing this beautiful residence for the first time. I just love it…”

*

“Nolan, we…oops, sorry, didn’t see the cell phone…”

“I’m off now… So, what do you think of 711 Guthrie Place?”

“We think you need to get our offer written up and to the sellers ASAP. We want a fast closing, and it’s a cash deal.”

“Oh, be quiet, my heart. It’s thumping wildly. Are you talking a full-price offer?”

“Yes, no, haggling! Everything stays as it is – all things we see here stays here. Understood?”

“Understood, for sure. That is exactly the way the sellers wanted it…sorry if my handshake is a bit moist, Barry and Edie. This is quite a day for me. You just put me in the sales-leader position at the agency. Thank you so very much. I will require a fairly high sum down. Is that a problem?”

“No, that’s no problem. Give me a figure and I’ll write a check. To whom do I make the check out?”

“Langley Escrow Service…you understand I’m sure the mortgage company must do a search for any liens and so forth. It’s routine to check your bank for the rather high deposit amount. There must be a ‘close of escrow’ as well, so it will all take a few days. Is that a problem for you?”

“No, no problem.”

“Again, thank you so much. I’ll be sending you copies of paperwork as we go through this procedure. Mailing stuff can take a few days, or, if you like, I can drop the paper off to you. Mailing it will take up to a week, maybe longer, with real estate transactions running sometimes a bit slow.”

“Mail is fine. No need for the legwork…”

*

“Why did you make the check so big, Barry?”

“Well, they’re going to get the full amount anyhow… 1.5 million! This way, maybe we get into our new home a bit quicker.”

“True, but half the amount, $750,000? Ah, you know what you’re doing. I love you, big guy. It is such a beautiful house. Hopefully, by the time you get back from your 10-day trip to Cincinnati, all the paperwork will be done, and we’ll move in with just our suit-cases. To be honest, I’ll miss our luxury high-rise condo, but all that room at our new place…so much fun in the anticipation. ”

“If the close comes faster and they want the rest of the money, you write the check. Okay?”

“Sure, if you want me to. God! The pen in my hand will shake, writing a check that big. I love you, Barry, and thank you for our beautiful new home.”

*

“Hey, Edie, I’m home. Edie. You here, Edie? Hmm, she knew when I was getting home. Probably, shopping…”

*

“Yeah, operator, how do I get information? I can’t seem to get it on my phone…”

“Hang on, sir. I’ll connect you to ‘information’.”

“Information…can I help you?”

“Yeah, can you find the number for Langley Escrow Service?”

“Just a moment, sir…”

“How are you spelling that name, sir?”

“Langley…L-A-N-G-L-E-Y, Escrow Service, unless there is no ‘e’ at the end of Langley.”

“Just a moment, sir.”

“Sir, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here…what’s the number?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I find no number for Langley, L-A-N-G-L-E-Y, Escrow Service listed.”

“No, no, there’s got to be a listing for Langley Escrow Service. I just bought a house that went through Langley Escrow Service.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I do not have a listing for that company.”

“You must have. C’mon, check again…”

“Just a moment, sir…”

“Sir?”

“Yes.”

“There is no Langley Escrow Service listed in our city, sir. I’m terribly sorry for your inconvenience.”

“My inconvenience! My inconvenience! That company has my money. You have to have it listed.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Would you like to speak to my on-duty supervisor?”

“Yes. Yes, let me speak to your supervisor. My God, when the phone company can’t help you, what the hell…”

“Hello, Sir, I’m the Supervisor on duty, and I’m so sorry to make you wait. The operator stated the problem, sir, and she told you correctly. We do not have a listing for Langley Escrow Service.”

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

*

“Can I help you, Sir? You look like you could use some help.”

“I need to talk to one of your detectives…

“What’s the problem, Sir?”

“I’ve been swindled out of one million five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Geez. That is a problem… When did this swindle happen?

“Two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks ago, huh?”

“That’s what I said. I didn’t stutter. I’m hurting here! Get me a detective.”

“Hey, don’t get snappy with me, Pal…(hmm, if this guy has just lost one and a half million dollars, I’m Queen Elizabeth without the sex-change…) Hold on a minute, Sir. I’ll get a detective.

©Short Story by Billy Ray Chitwood – March 5, 2019

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Felix and Fred -Putting Up A Fence

(Image by vipul uthaiah)

Felix and Fred

-Putting Up a Fence-

 “C’mon, don’t give me that crapola! You know that I don’t buy into your atheist beliefs. You’re a close-minded ‘know-it-all’.”

“Hey, you started the conversation.”

“How do you get there, ‘me’, starting the conversation?”

“You asked me what I thought about ‘climate change’…”

“And?”

“And, you used the word, God, in your question.”

“I said, ‘For God’s sake’, how can these young progressives be so stupid as to put ‘climate change’ as the number one problem facing the country?”

“Right, and I said, ‘God has nothing to do with it. There is no God. So, you got pissed and called me names.”

“Look, Fred, let’s get something straight here. We’ve had this lively chat before, and I keep telling you, ‘keep the atheist crap to yourself’, but somehow you always get the conversation over into the domain of metaphysics and intellectual inquiry, trying your damndest to charm me with your intellect, to turn me in a direction I’m not about to go… So, once, and for all the ‘next times’, I believe in a higher intelligence, a Deity, a God, not that ‘big bang’ you bring into just about every conversation we have. Now, you’re entitled to believe whatever you wish to believe, but, I say, but, when I make it clear to you where I stand on an issue, don’t keep bringing up your so-called belief of life being ‘nothingness’, that generic man gets only one chance at this thing we call life, implying we who do believe in God are all idiots.”

“Felix, your argument has no credibility, but…”

“Why, you arse-hole, my argument has no credibility? What? The Sun rises and sets. The tides move with the Moon. A baby is born in very precise stages, alive in a woman’s womb, sustained by the miracle of a woman’s bodily make-up, brought into a world where he or she or they can achieve remarkable feats, or, simply live a life, good or bad, until death claims them. Faith gives Life meaning, a purpose, to create, to explore the depths of knowledge, to live in hope of something ‘beyond’ the earthly realm. The mystery of death beguiles and haunts the thinking man in search of his soul’s quest…oh, but, not you. You don’t doubt, you know ‘with avid certainty’ that darkness awaits at the end of our breathing… You know, because I’ve told you before, Fred, we could have perhaps lively and fun conversations about life and death if you could admit to Agnosticism. But, no, not you. You’re really bright, but I wish you had some honest humility. Ah, I’ve had my say. Let’s finish this fence and stop talking for a while, Fred. Okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure, it’s okay with me, but, hell, Felix, we all have beliefs. I’m sorry I make you so angry, but I’m just speaking from my mind, not my heart.”

“That’s cute, Fred, that little ‘transference thing’ you just did, but don’t be using one of ‘our’ words in this conversation.”

‘Our words’, Felix? Oh, and which word is that, my enlightened friend?”

“The word is hell, Fred. Don’t use it, because you’re violating your belief system. Hell when used by atheists must mean that, in their most private moments, they think of Heaven and Hell! How’s that, my egotistical friend? Now, hand me another cinder block for the fence. We’re almost at the end. A few more yards will do it.”

“Are we okay, Felix? I mean, we still friends? I never know when you go on your rants”

“Rants, huh? I guess you’re talking about my superior logic… Yeah, of course, Fred. We’re still friends. Who else would listen to your brain farts? You make me mad with your mind-set, but we’ve been around too many corners to turn around now. We couldn’t find our way back home. You see, my God was feeding me my lines just now. Who was feeding you your lines?”

“The little guy in my brain.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

“We’ve been friends and next-door neighbors for years now, Felix. You figure this fence is a symbol for our disagreements?”

“Hell, no. I just don’t like watching you chase your lovely wife all around the back yard in your birthday suit. That ‘picture’ is not exactly pretty for you, but I’ve fallen in love with your wife.”

“That’s just mean, Felix, even though I’m smiling. That kind of thinking won’t get you to heaven.”

“You’ll never know. Now, hand me the the cinder block, arse-hole.”

Billy Ray Chitwood – March 3, 2019

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Some Thoughts on “Dominique”

There’s a guy in our neighborhood that is ‘dumb’ as squat – whatever the hell that means! At least he is when it comes to the machinations of the internet! Now, don’t get me too far wrong. I’m really fond of the guy. He’s smart, just likely not as smart as he thinks he is, he’s got this genetic structure inside that brain of his that goes a bit haywire at times…

Okay, let me nip this quickly in the bud because this guy is super nice most of the time and does in fact write some great books. It is humble I, says me, the author of this post…

Now, don’t be splitting a gut laughing at me. You know how the blood pressure rises when you’re tormenting your wife and cat – substitute, dog(s) if it’s more fitting to your clan. Hell, I had to start this post some which way, so I decided I might as well soothe my nerves by writing in this sort of ‘free-wheeling’ style. Indeed, writing is my ‘forte’, not only am l one of the very best authors you will ever read, I’m also so focused and locked in when I’m writing, and, today, well, I really needed some ‘existential love’. Hey, that sounds like a really good title for a book. I just might have to write it.

Okay, here’s the itch I’m trying to scratch, the ‘rub’ for the day…well, for the last three days actually! 

I just published a book entitled, Dominique, and it was so much fun to write. AND, I do believe it is one of the best books among my many happy labors – really close to “Mama’s Madness,” “Stranger Abduction,” “Hammer’s Holy Grail,” “The Pickett Factor,” well, yeah, I believe all my eighteen books are darned good, warts and all. With “Dominique,” I played ‘graphic designer’ and did my own book cover, didn’t like it, and, for the past three days have been working my brain overtime changing book covers on that really good novel, Dominique. I’ve gone through three covers in the last three days, and I’m really expecting to hear some angry words from those good folks at Amazon about these ‘cover turnarounds’! But, good news, finally, I did come up with a cover I’m not changing. Funny thing, I liked all three except the first one into which I inserted my good – no, my excellent, prose!

So, although unlikely, some of my followers might find different book covers of Dominique running loose on Amazon – MY BAD! Apparently, like so many of my titles, I’m doing a lousy job in the marketing area, doggone it! I would welcome some sales and some reviews. I’ve got my marketing armor on this evening, just in case, but I just know you’re going to like my books. They are almost dainty and dignified like literary stuff I once read in college – almost, I say, but it surely won’t interfere with your enjoyment…I promise that!

Okay, I’ve had my say!

I hope you like my new cover for “Dominique,” but along with that I hope you buy it and leave book reviews.

No more begging for tonight! 

It’s bedtime here in ‘Twilight’. Between cursing and my wife shaking her head at my madness, I’ve watched bits of news this evening I could have easily done without, but, by my reckoning, this orb we call earth will keep right on orbiting and I’ll keep right on tweeting, retweeting, and, yeah, writing and begging!

Billy Ray Chitwood – February 28, 2019

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writi

 

Broker in the Pit

Broker in the Pit

The darkness is overpowering, consuming me with its lava flow of sheer blackness, denying my mind sanity, sequence of thoughts, and viable options for escaping this suffocating imprisonment.

What lunacy brought me to this space of horror? (It can occupy my time to explain this vacuity.)

A combination of anomalous events brought me here.

Where is here? When and Why?

The ‘who’ is I, of course, all alone in this dark dungeon of nothingness…my name’s Freddie Cheever.

I’m a jogger. It is my way to stay healthy and trim. Every morsel of food I eat must be assessed for its calorie count and nutritional value. I’m the obsessive jerk people talk about, the guy who takes each aspect of life to its outer limit, weighing on the mind-scale the logical and reasonable factors.

Okay, I had an appointment cancel on me…no reason, just a rude denial of our pre-set meet. I’m a broker, so I’m guessing the lady whose husband just died and left her with all the ‘e-pluribus-unum’ heard rumors about me that were launched by a competitor three years ago. (I’m blessed with fairly good looks and like women – but in very gentleman ways.) Guess one could call me a ‘womanizer’, because, in my opinion, a beautiful woman (in my ‘beholding eyes’) is truly a work of art.

But I digress…

So, I used that aforementioned appointment time with Ms. Snooty to jog. I had no other appointments on my calendar, so I shortened my day, went to my bachelor pad, decked out, drove out in the country to find new terrain for my jogging, found it, parked my Benz, and jogged.

I was into my second mile when I came to a big swath of leaves, and, as I ran through said leaves, I started free-falling downward akimbo and heard above me a slamming sound. Luckily, I landed on my feet – more or less – and badly sprained my left ankle. Whatever the slamming sound it left me in that pitch-blackness that started this narrative. My fall I judged to be some ten feet, but it was the slamming noise that really got my attention, not so much the fall itself.

This was by my reckoning an animal-trap of some kind, and, it was my hope, not a human-trap laid out by some very weird dude or dudes.

Though alone, I was mortified and damned scared. On hands and knees, I crawled the small space, judged the rounded pit’s circumference to be maybe ten feet or more. Its floor was all filled with the falling leaves and likely gave my fall some small advantage. Below the leaves there was just hardness, and all I received from my effort scratching at the surface was a broken finger-nail.

Along the walls of the pit was the same hardness. My guess was that it was either concrete or bitumen. The pit was likely used as a silo of some kind.

That’s when the utter black of the darkness hit me in a mind-chamber that caused me to inwardly flash, like a spasm passed through me.

Did I yell? No, my pit was so serene! Of course, I yelled until my throat pained me to swallow. It seemed that, with that acknowledgement, I was swallowing more often than I could ever remember swallowing.

Okay, I’m there for, guessing here, some three hours. My angst was deep like the hole I was in. I lay on my right-side for a while, then the left-side, on and on.

I did a lot of praying, not that I expected much relief from a Deity I had ignored badly over the years. Still, I prayed, supplicated, pled with tears my eyes seldom used for any reason – well, maybe a really sad movie could bring tears…if I were alone, NOT on a date, NOT in a movie house.

Then, the miracle!

Thought I heard a motor purring above me. Then, no purring of motor. When I felt almost on the verge of ‘flipping out’ a scraping sound came to my ears from above, then a small stretch of sunlight that got bigger and bigger. A gravelly voice came from above – a farmer’s voice, not my Deity’s voice.

“Who’s down there?” the voice sounded almost angry and impatient.

I tried to yell up to my hero, but my voice faltered. Finally, I found a squeaky refrain somewhere in the sore throat and softly sang out, “I’m down here! I fell while jogging.”

“I ought to leave you down there! This is private land, boy!”

I squeaked, “I’m so sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Okay, boy, grab the rope, loop it around your middle and I’ll pull you up.”

Did as I was told, and ‘thank you, my divine Deity. You did hear me after all’.

The farmer became my friend – and my client. Tom Simpson’s his name. I’ll never forget what he said to me when I hobbled with him to my car. He bore most of my weight on that short walk.

Tom said to me: “Freddie Cheever, huh? Well, son I have to tell you, you are one lucky fella! I usually don’t come this route. Just decided the last minute to check out this quarter of land. I saw the leaves all messed up, and they stopped at the silo pit.”

Funny how fate works at times. Maybe I’ll start going to church on Sundays.

For sure, I’m going to be seeing Tom Simpson fairly often…he’s a broker’s dream – big spread of land that feeds a lot of people, plus a dairy that yields lots of milk. That ‘e pluribus unum’ I wrote about just a bit ago? Well, good old Tom’s got enough to fill that darned pit I was in.

Billy Ray Chitwood – February 25, 2019

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Altar of Remembrance

Altar of Remembrance

All things you are to me I now render unto our altar of remembrance…

No long list this of platitudes and love words written idly…

Our love deserves a solemn, sublime space here in the domains of our souls…

Reach gentle fingers to your heart and watch the wispy thoughts of yesterday rise softly before you…

With caressing fingers hold the moments that filled us with memories for the ‘morrow…

Smile with dreamy eyes the awkward delivery of our first kiss…

Ah, the wafting scent of the fragrances we sprayed on our bodies…

And the blushes we could not hide during the early blooming of our love…

The tedious nourishing of those magical moments when our bodies touched in the night…

The balladeers and violins of enchanting moments at our favorite bistros…

So many endearments…and I must leave you now with a misty good-bye…

Billy Ray Chitwood – February, 2019

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