Tag: #Sports

River, Keep on Flowing

-River, Keep on Flowing-

I look out over the valley

From atop this tall, tall Pine

And I can see the river flowing

Over this land of mine.

There, on the bank of the river,

Sits a love that I once knew,

Her hair aglow in the sunlight,

Her eyes lost in sky of blue.

River, keep on flowing

River, flow for me

River, ease my heartaches,

And take my misery.

*

Where does she go at twilight?

The love that I once knew…

Does she go in search of tomorrow

In the arms of someone new?

*

River, keep on flowing

Over forgotten ground,

River, keep on flowing

Let my peace be found.

River, keep on flowing

River, flow for me

River, take my heartaches

Relieve my misery.

 

A slow (old-time country) tempo song by:

 Billy Ray Chitwood – April 23, 2019

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Chance Meeting at the Mall

Chance Meeting at the Mall

It began when I saw her in the upper-level of the Brighton Mall. She placed her paper bag of purchases on the floor next to her cushioned seat. Avoiding her was not an option as the sitting area was in my path to the escalator.

Of course, you would know, she was beautiful as she sat and shook her head to resettle her long lovely raven curls. She was dressed in lovely colors of Ivory and Lavender, a dress sheer and clinging – like, my eyes at that moment.

My mind did its calculations…do I just stop, sit in the chair next to her, begin a conversation. What do I say as an opener? Her left hand was gloved so, married or not, I was ‘flying in the blind’. It was one of those fateful moments in life where one must decide to act or not to act, with the haunting of the latter lingering forever in the mind… I decided to act.

I sat in the chair next to her. There were other chairs in the grouping, but other shoppers were passing, chatting, and I wanted to be close so as not having to increase the decibel level of my voice.

Please, allow me to pause and explain…

First, my name is Lawrence Wallenby, just, Larry, will do, and I’m a trim six-footer who stays in shape by jogging and exercising – which once, in starting out, was a chore, but, now, something I look forward to. I’m told by some of my staff at the Agency that I bear the looks of actor Matthew McConaughey. That’s good, I think, because I like his acting.

I am not a ‘stalker’ who frequents shopping malls for women to meet and harass. I am a responsible male person who owns his own small advertising enterprise, growing by leaps and bounds, I might add. I am a man who some months ago lost his wife to a drunk driver in a head-on collision. Both were killed, and I had my days, weeks, and months to damn the fiddlers of fate who perform these acts so people can grieve and crawl into themselves and become inoperably viable. So, time did not, would not heal the wound of losing Diana, but, at least, it would have the courtesy to allow the ‘devastation’ period to pass – to the point of having needs to fulfill.

May I apologize if this preceding acknowledgement is not enough a prelude to what I’m about to narrate for you. Suffice, Diana is still in a precious vault of my heart, but I’ve come to realize that life does indeed go on and old needs come rushing back in need of fulfilling.

The handsome lady with the raven hair, soft blue eyes, and most luscious lips glanced up at me with an awkward, almost, smile, and then went quickly back to a piece of paper on her lap – presumably, a ‘shopping list’.

“Holiday shopping can be a real ‘bear’, don’t you think?” Without giving her a chance to answer, I pressed forward. “Of course, you do. You’re sitting here, resting, so, obviously, shopping ergo is a ‘bear’ or your choice of animal. I know you are wondering who the ‘nut’ is sitting next to you, and I implore you not to get up and leave with my muttering hanging in the air. Really, I’m not so great at this, but I do honestly and sincerely believe you are the most beautiful lady I’ve seen in my lifetime. Is it okay that we might meet? Please.”

“Wow, you should take a breath between syllables. You’ll pass out, I’m thinking. Sure, why not? We’re in a public arena here, people passing by, and you don’t seem to be carrying weapons of any kind. So, sure, let’s ‘meet’. I’m Diana Bixley.”

“No, no, you can’t be… I mean, your first name – pick another first name!”

“I’m sorry. Now, you’re confusing me. I thought your little rushed ‘pick-up’ line was cute, but…are you some kind of nut?”

“Oh, no, no. I’m so sorry to blunder like this. Your first name, Diana, is a beautiful name, and you should keep it. Of course, she should and will keep it, you idiot. Again, sorry, but I lost my wife to a drunk driver about a year ago, and her name was Diana.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. I’ve gone through the periods of loss and find that I still wish to go on, but I’ve been with no one for that period of time and very likely don’t know how to act properly. May I start again? My name is Larry Wallenby, and, when I saw you, my heart did little ‘flip-flops’ and I had to meet you. Please, is that okay? I mean, that I had to meet you?”

“Relax, Larry, I’m happy to meet you, and I’m sorry about your wife.”

She offered her hand which I swiftly but softly clutched for some two or three seconds before releasing.

“Are you encumbered?” Too fast, too fast, you dummy.

“I beg your pardon.”

“I’m sorry, again, Diana, but I’m such a ‘Klutz’ at this. Are you married, going steady with anyone?”

“You’re fast, Larry, but I suppose that comes from your loss and grief period. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but, no, I’m not married, not going steady with anyone.”

My heart-beat got faster. Now, don’t screw this up, Larry. Take a shot, but slow down the process. You got the answer you wanted. There’s a chance, so don’t screw it up.

“Do you have children, Diana?”

“No, I’m not too big on kids. They annoy me, mostly. I’m sure I did my annoyance bit as a kid. You have kids, Larry?”

“No, no kids. No animals of any kind, although I love Golden Retrievers. You like animals?”

“Not so much. Better than kids, but the ‘clean-up’ and routines would drive me nuts. Your business keep you busy, Larry?”

“As much as I allow it to keep me busy. I’ve got some good people working at the ad agency that keep the load off me. What do you do, Diana?”

“I’m an actress and model, Larry. I’ve done nothing memorable in film that you would remember seeing. Most of my action is in modeling and ‘specialty films’.”

“You enjoy what you do, Diana?”

“Very much so, Larry. You?”

“Yeah. I was drawn to advertising at a young age for some reason, likely because my Dad had a ‘Billboard’ business. I was fascinated enough by it to take all the courses relative to advertising while in the university environment. The business has been good for me. The people who work with me free me up to pursue other interests, like traveling to exotic places. Do you travel a lot in your business, Diana?”

“Too much, actually. I don’t like airport waits and all the security crap one has to go through anymore… I notice you have no packages, Larry. Are you not shopping? Did you just come to the mall to meet me?”

“Well, while that’s a nice thought, I did plan to pick up some items for my sister and my staff, but now it’s not so important. I can put it off ‘til another day. That is, if I can talk you into cocktails and dinner.”

“That sounds wonderful, Larry. And, what would your plans be after our dinner?”

Hey, she’s playing right into my hand. How can I get so lucky? Hell, I’ll lay it out for her.

“Well, to be honest, Diana, I thought we could go to my place, have nightcaps, listen to some romantic music, turn the lights down low, and see where it all would lead us.”

“Larry, you scoundrel! You do work fast. However, I’m afraid I would spoil your plans.”

“I doubt that, Diana. You’re so beautiful, and I’m sure we would get along just fine.”

Oh, she’s getting up, reaching for her shopping bags.

“Thank you, Larry, for the dinner and romance offer, but I will pass and just say, ‘nice meeting you’.”

“But, Diana, I thought…”

“You thought, what, Larry?”

“I thought we were bonding nicely…”

“By bonding, you mean you thought I would jump in the sack with you, correct?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I thought we were heading toward something really romantic and beautiful.”

“Really?” She stood and for a moment hovered over me.

I stood and faced her.

“Was it something I said, Diana?”

“No, it was something I did not say, Larry…”

“And, what was it you did not say, Diana?”

“Well, if I say it, no longer will it be not said, Larry.”

She started to walk away.

“Diana, please, tell me what was not said.”

She looked back at me, and, with a slight raise of brow and grin, said, “I like to go to bed with women, Larry…nice meeting you.

Damn, it ended where it started!

Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood – January 21, 2019

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Family Love

17904346_10212604998622427_8835160309080360115_n (1)   e15241296_10210589180546815_7619236045342556019_n (1)                               Billy Ray and Julie Anne

Family Love

Upon the laptops across the globe, authors take to their keyboards to peck out their stories, opening their hearts and their very souls to seek some arcane knowledge of their own existence. It is a two-way street, I believe, this writing business. Authors surely wish to entertain their readers. Authors are also writing in many ways to find themselves in their narratives. At least, this one is…

Take me, for example, I put my life under many of the microscopes of readers almost daily in search for the essence of the man behind his words. On the surface of those words I believe it easy to discover some superficial nomenclature to describe myself – a man who ate some emotional soup in childhood and has spent a lifetime in search of himself, that essence, the reality of his soul. Of course, I can immediately acknowledge in all my lucid candor that the simple ‘nomenclature’ I’ve discovered at best can only scratch the surface of who I am, what and where I’ve been. The ultimate truth lies out there in the void of the ‘dark veil’!

What I can be certain of is what I label, ‘my orbital truth’. It is a truth I’ve dodged most of my life as a wanderlust, what many would call a ‘romantic’ or a ‘lotus-eater’, a man hungry for the fruits that can be found in the nether world of women and song, in and out of love, playing the role of dismayed man sorry for himself, or the role of a poet and soothsayer – ‘hey, look at me, am I not a good and solid actor in this not-so-great B-level  Movie’?

My children, two of whom I present to you above, love me for some obscure reason for I was absent for days, weeks, months, and years of their lives – sitting likely in a motel room writing about them on cheap stationery, how I missed them, how much I loved them, only to es-cape the motel room for more women and song. They are wise enough to know all of this and most of them are now closely-knit families with lovely children of their own.

My daughter, Shelley Jean (top picture), her handsome husband, Greg, are shown above, below them, my son, Scott and his lovely wife, Carla. Another son, Brandon, is a PhD in Literature, a professor living in Minnesota, unmarried at last report. There is a school teacher daughter and two engineers in the mix – Chemical and Electronic. All have wonderful children of their own… As a sad footnote: One of my sons, Steven Ray, was lost to us because of his life on the dark menacing streets of Las Vegas in drug dealing and use. If one might presume I could have made a difference in his life had I been there more, you would be presuming correctly… I carry that ignoble deed to the black void mentioned earlier.

With this righteous candor, I can say in honesty that all of the other children now have families and a good life. Shelley and Greg rejoice in their God and their blended family. Scott and Carla, having lived productive business lives, spend most their time in a Utah mountain retreat. The engineers and teacher whom I love come to me via Julie Anne, my most generous and loving wife of some thirty-five years. They are all family-oriented and have clearer truths for living than their father.

So, why have I shared all of my children, myself and wife with you, my compatriots on the writing circuit and some few reading fans? Surely, you did not need to read this, to hear it, as it were. No, of course not! It is all for me, this long missive of contrition. I’ve made you, the readers, my altar of remorse!

 It seemed necessary for me to share the larger truths of my life. Somehow, with the allocation comes ablution, some semblance of playing straight without falsely presenting myself. I served honorably in the United States Navy, have a loving and cherished wife, and felt the simple need to share the beauty that now pervades my life…the children, their families, their devotion to their own families and their charitable aid to others.

In pondering my life’s rather rascally environments at times I’m reminded of how truly lucky I am to have so very much love in my life.

That’s really comforting here in ‘Twilight’, where I plan to live until age 105 and write many more novels…

Surely hope those novels get read… 

No groveling, please, BR! 😀

Billy Ray Chitwood – September 1, 2018

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Remembering Arnold Palmer – ‘The King’

 

2016-PGA-Arnold-Palmer-Invitational-Free-Golf-PicksRemembering Arnold Palmer -The ‘King’

This is the first day of the rest of your life!

Actually, quite a phrase if you really parse it…regarding what the words convey.

Okay, it’s 5:30 in the AM. I’m up early, chomping on the proverbial bit, with something to say, and, just not sure what’s going to roll out here.

You see, when I can’t sleep, I lie in bed and think, along with other trifling habits – like, finding a comfort zone for Arthur and me…you know Arthur, he’s the ‘itis’ in my bane of existence. Arthur’s been with me since I was a relatively young man, taking me through some painful gout attacks, joint swelling, just plain pain and misery.

However, I don’t wish to make this 5:30 AM post about Arthritis, and, I feel fine – joint-wise! So, you ask, what am I going to ramble about? Well, first of all, it’s not very nice of me to be you, to put words in your mouth and show my latent and presumptuous nature.

My! My! The ramble is off and running…

May I remind you? WRITE, if you are a writer…people, particularly, avid readers, will read anything. So, just get on a ‘kick’ to ramble. You’ll be surprised what you’ve written when you’re all finished and reading over the Pulitzer words.

Actually, someone I revered died recently, and it was my good fortune to spend some time with him – which encompassed all of three meetings and two days. You all know him, and, I hope, love him…well, if you are a golfer, you love him.

Now, look, because you’re NOT a golfer, you will still love this short story, although the dynamics may be missing (no murders, no rapes, no romance, no thriller, no thunderous moments of peril and excitement, and so forth!).

I’m into parentheses this early morning! Here’s another: (Writing is important to me, and it MUST be my attempt to show this early morning, if you just release your mind and let it roll, you might be surprised what you come up with…and, later, you can always edit and polish it to your fancy – which I WILL NOT do with this bit of SOfC!)

Also, part of the job of a writer is to keep people waiting for some ‘punch lines’, that is, like, I was going to tell you about this chance meeting with one of my golf idols…

Now, you can also irritate the reader with the ‘stall moves’, so I’m going to hurry along here.

Some years ago, I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, the ‘Valley of the Sun’, one of the golf capitols of the world, and I was fortunate to belong to the Arizona Country Club. In those days, the PGA ‘Phoenix Open Golf Tournament’ was played on alternate years at the Phoenix Country Club and the Arizona Country Club. This particular year, the ‘Open’ was held at the ACC.

So, it’s a beautiful sunny day (what else could it be?), blue skies, and lots of ‘Birdie Putts’ which golfers know about. Some friends of mine, a buddy and a couple of airline ‘Stews’ were out on the course watching the golfers. One of the ladies wanted to see Arnold Palmer…she thought he was a handsome dude and the sport’s ‘King’. We didn’t see Arnie on the holes we walked, and I boasted: “Hey, we’ll go back to the clubhouse, have a few drinks, maybe we get lucky and meet ‘The King’.

The Clubhouse is crowded. I manage to get us a cluster of comfy chairs together, and we sat, drank, and, because the ladies with us were pretty, we had a pro golfer or two join us from time to time – good golfers, just not the ‘Poster Man’ and/or stature of Arnold Palmer!

At some point, because I was a businessman at the time, I excuse myself, go the bar and use the phone to call my office for messages. As I ended my phone business I turned to return to my group, and (drum-beat roll!), there, standing in front of me, was Arnie and a trio of guys chatting.

I boldly go up to the group, put my hand on Arnie’s shoulder, and, say: “Sorry, Arnie, to interrupt, but, I’m Bill Chitwood, and, if you have time, I have some gents and ladies who would love to meet you.”

Arnie smiled, looked at me kindly in the eyes, and asked: “Where are you sitting, Bill?”

WOW! I mean, WOW! Arnie called me, ‘Bill’! Yeah, yeah, I know, that’s my name, but it was my golf idol speaking it.

I turned and pointed to where our group was sitting, and Arnie says: “I’ll be over in a couple of minutes, Bill.”

WOW! Again! I just pulled off a ‘coup’ with my hero. I was bursting with pride as I went back to join my group. Rather nonchalantly, I announced: “Arnie will be joining us in a few minutes!” Eyes widened, and the ladies became a bit nervous. The anticipation was keen, and I could hardly contain myself.

We sat and drank for a few minutes when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and, my heart jumped to my throat. There was the ‘handsome dude’, Arnie Palmer, smiling and grabbing my hand again as I stood and introduced my people. Arnie sat, ordered, if memory serves, a Vodka Tonic, and we sat, drank, and visited for the entire afternoon. Arnie kept us enrapt with his answers to our questions and stories of his ventures, and I shall never forget his kindness and fellowship that day.

Arnold Palmer was/is the ‘real deal’! How do you measure a person’s worth by golf statistics and hero-worship? This man was all, and, MORE, than were the publicity pieces written about him. I’ve followed and loved this man my entire life. I can personally speak to his humility and his warmth. He was, and, is a role-model Supreme!

The morning after our long afternoon gathering, I took my son, Steve, to the club for the Saturday round of the Phoenix Open. We wormed our way through the crowd to where Arnie was putting on the practice green.

Arnie looked up and saw Steve and me, smiled, came over to the roped-off area and asked: “Is this your son, Bill?”

WOW! Arnie remembered my name!

We chatted there at the putting green for some minutes…minutes I shall never forget!

There is no doubt in my mind that meeting Arnold Palmer was a singular event in my life… I would not trade that event for anything in the world!

The ‘King of Golf’ – Arnold Palmer’: I love this man!

Okay, the ‘Ramble’ is over!

Now, WRITE! If you really are a writer!

Here’s something to get you started:

‘The World is my oyster! Where did that come from’?

– BR Chitwood – March 30, 2018 –

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