Surfing the Nut House

It was my sisters idea to drive to the nut house. She said I would like it. It would remind me of my childhood. I had recently suffered an emotional trauma and ran from any potential conflict. I steadied myself and agreed to go. We got in my sisters comfortable car and drove West. The Earth turns toward us and I make believe that the car is stationary and the Earth is rushing under our wheels. I rest my head against the passenger window and again mentally run through my failures. I did, I didn't, I couldn't. They did, they didn't, they wouldn't. I watched the fence posts rush past me at a regular interval. I poured the bitterness out of my head and concentrated on my breathing. My heartbeat slowed to the rhythm of the passing fence posts. They looked like the blips on an EKG.


The car slowed to a stop at an intersection. Beside us was a roadside memorial decorated with flowers and crosses. A little boy in a baseball uniform turned to me as the car was pulling away. He raised a popsicle in the air and with a grin stuck out his popsicle red tongue. I closed my eyes. I could taste that sweet red juice as it ran down my chin. I remembered how Mom use to make those for us. I wondered why the little boy was at the memorial. Why did it seem important. I make believe I can feel the Earth flying through space. It's the feeling of reaching the highest point on a playground swing and just as you start falling backward you are weightless. I feel it in my stomach and down my spine. I hold, I hold it as long as I can.


I hear the crunch of gravel as we pull into the nut house. The lot is full with many visitors. I exit the car slowly and appraise the building. It's old and rough cut, barn red and ramshackle. The handpainted sign over the entrance says Somis Nut House. There is something about it that makes me smile. There is a warm energy that surrounds this space. We walk inside and it's quiet like a church. There are roughcut beams overhead and bolted together racks filled with nuts and candies, many that I remember from childhood. Abba-Zaba's and Bazooka Bubble Gum, Chick O Sticks! I drift through the racks and my childhood memories, one overlapping the other. I remember the little girl I liked in school and my friends at the public pool. I remember my dog as I see a curved red tail wagging behind a counter. I feel small hands hugging my leg, gentle as a ghost but it's only my imaginings. My sister calls me over to show me a found treasure, something we both laugh about. A little girl walks past with her face tilted to mine. She is maybe 5 and has the most astonished reaction when I say Hello. She squeals with delight and clasps her hands to her face, then runs between the racks. I turn to my sister to see her reaction but her view was elsewhere. She asks if I like this place but I know she is really asking if I feel its calm and its warmth. I nod yes. I add this feeling to that of the swing. The warmth and the letting go. I empty myself of lifes constricting vibrations and hold the feeling. I wrap my arms around it and press it to my chest and feel it enter me and fill me. I'm warm and falling into calm.


I open my eyes and see the little girl. She holds a soft glow. A dog trots up to her and and sits to her left always keeping his eyes on mine. His eyes hold a question and a reward for its answer. The little girl lifts his floppy ear and whispers, "Yes, he can see us." I immediately know this dog, he was my dog and until this moment I didn't know how much I'd missed him. Tears spring from my eyes as I bend to pet him. The little girl puts her hand on my arm for comfort and says, "Only joy." At her touch I know she is my Grandmother, my loving Grandmother as I have never know her. She says, "Look, we are here." I see all those I had lost, all as children, laughing and teasing. The earth tilts under my feet and I feel a rushing in my head. She points to a mirror and I see myself as a little boy in a baseball uniform, the same little boy I saw from the car. But I'm still alive I think, and the little girl says, "Yes, you are alive, we are all alive in the All." I see a little boy and girl and know them to be my parents. They stand apart until the little girl approaches the boy. She punches him in shoulder and all their divisions evaporate with giggles. They hold each others hands and run off laughing. The little girl that is my Grandmother reaches out and gently holds my face.


We fly out into space and I see the all of the Milky Way. It's gigantic arms slowly spin as it travels through space. I feel my arms open wide. We feel the orbit of our Earth and feel its rotation. She shows me the little boy that I was in my baseball uniform spinning in the outfield with no worry for the ball. I was, and am, and will be that boy, I promise.



June 17th 2014

I wrote a song.

Got my haircut yesterday. Oye!

Looks like a porcupine.

Stock market is killing me. Oye!

Feels like a porcupine.

Life is a banquet, Oye!

Tastes like a porcupine.

A little story.

a man with one short leg walks in circles,

he can crawl in a straight line,

so he crawls to a new place to circle.

It’s good to have choices. 

Record Store of Memories

Drove down to the new Rasputin Record Store across the street

from Sun Valley Mall. I haven’t been in a record store for a decade.

It was strange and wonderful and I probably won’t do it again. I had

a list of used CD’s I wanted to find.  Red Hot Chili Peppers and Daniel

Lanois, The Boss and Led Zeppelin. I flipped through the racks and adjusted

my stance to let other shufflers pass. The artwork on the sticky CD cases

triggered dusty memories. Dark smoke filled rooms with only the light

from the faceplate of a cheap stereo for illumination. I remembered the

cute ugly pimple faces of childhood friends. I was lost in trauma and wonder

and loss and love. The screaming from the stores sound system pulled

me back into the moment. Hateful painful lyrics, why? Perhaps it’s a lifeline

to pull the shufflers out of their fog of memory.  The one CD I found was

used and not cheap. I placed it back in the rack and opted to buy it in its

pristine digital form from iTunes.

Bottle Cap Treasures

For several years I’ve been walking around the track at our local park.

It’s a standard quarter mile of level blacktop walkway. The field at its center

is grass and weeds and gopher holes. There are always kids and dogs and old

people sitting or walking, playing catch or kicking a ball. It’s a nice place ringed

by scrub oaks on grassy hillsides. My goal is to walk 12 laps. I listen to music

and sometimes carry a notepad so I can jot down story ideas. It’s easy to lose

count of how many laps I’ve walked so I started picking up a stone that I would

find on each revolution and set the stone on a garbage bin. 1 stone for each

revolution. One day I picked up a bottle cap instead. You don’t see these very

often. It was creased on top and the tines on one edge were pried up from the

opener.  It said Dr. Pepper in bright red flowing script. It looked happy. I used the

bottle cap instead of a rock for that revolution. And when I finished my walk that

day I tossed Dr. Pepper behind the bin.

He was still there the next day so I picked him up and used him again to record my

progress. I started looking for other bottle caps to use as markers and soon started

finding many abandoned objects along the trail. I found a little green Army

Man, rifle to shoulder and looking for an enemy. I found three plastic beads connected

by string. Each square bead had a letter, B   E   C.  Part of a bracelet was my guess. I found

many plastic screw tops from water bottles. I had little interest in these. As time went on

I found more bottle caps and interesting little bits of larger things. I moved my collection

up the hill and behind a large bush. When I would arrive for a walk I would collect a few

of them and use them for markers. I didn’t need 12 of them anymore. I would use only two.

I would set one at the 12 o’clock position on the top of the bin and move the second to

the 1 o’clock position after I finished my first lap. After the second lap I move the marker

from 1 o’clock to 2 o’clock  and on around the imaginary clock face on the

top to the bin for each revolution.

During one of my walks I noticed a little girl with a plastic bag, her Mom also had a bag and

they were walking the trail picking up bits of paper and other debris. There was a soccer
game in the field and a lot of people about. I saw a few more people with their kids picking
up trash. Highly commendable. It also occurred to me that my markers on the bin were a
prime candidate for their endeavor. From across the field I watched a woman walk to the
bin and sweep my two markers into the center opening. I thought this pretty funny and when
I got back to the bin I was able to easily retrieve the markers and set them again on their
proper places. I kept an eye on the bin and a few minutes later a man walked over with his
bag and didn’t sweep them in but picked them up and put them in his bag!  My first thought
was to run over there and ask for them back with of course an explanation. But on second
thought I laughed at myself and thought I would seem to be a crazy person. After a few
more laps I found a plastic stir stick with a strange embossed symbol on it. Quite a prize!
My 12 laps complete I headed for the exit to the park. I stopped to drop my new prize
behind the bush and found that all my treasures were gone.

It was a shock to see the little pile of bits and pieces I’d collected gone. Some I will miss
but I have a new appreciation for the things that are dear to me, large and small.

Mabel's iPhone

Good news on Mabel’s iPhone. After its dunk in the toilet the

phone was rinsed and locked in a bag of rice for a week. (The rice

will absorb all the moisture.)  After three days we gave up and

Mab started shopping for a new iPhone ($750).  After 5 days we

were sure the phone had given up its ghost and Mabel pulled

out her old iPhone and got it activated. After 7 days the phone

showed some very small signs of life. The little Apple logo would

light up and then all would go quiet. On the 8^th day after being

charged, the phone booted to the lock screen. I ran upstairs

and showed Mabel this miracle. Kind of a miracle in reverse since

the phone went in the toilet on Easter Weekend. Mabel unlocked

the phone and everything sprang to the desktop. All the juicy fruit

colored icons were clamoring for attention. Everything looked normal

until Mabel loaded an app with a white background. The screen looked

like a sky with big puffy white clouds. It was really kind of pretty but

the fact was the screen had been compromised.  Mabel was still happy

that the phone functioned normally aside from the art deco patterns

on the screen. She tested the battery life and made calls and sent texts.

Everything worked! And after a few days when next I looked at the phone

the clouds seemed to be slightly smaller. I pulled up the memo app that

looks like lined paper and counted how many lines the clouds crossed.

This was to compare the screen at a later date to see if the clouds really

had diminished. Mabel loved this idea and ran with it. She covered only

the areas on the screen that were cloudy with a variety of characters to

pinpoint the problem. It looked like a spell done with mystic ruins.

The next day Mabel showed me her screen and it was apparent that

the clouds were moving away. Yesterday they were almost gone

and in some small way I will miss them. Now Mabel has just another

normal iPhone.  Tonight I will press it to my nose and hope to smell

a tiny bit of pee.