Hugo Fun Fact 666: Clowns that don’t smile. Toilets that don’t flush at Open Houses. My children hovering over me when I awake from a nap. Uncorking a radiator cap from an overheating car. A rattle coming from an unknown source on a hike. Looking over the side of a tall bridge. A malfunctioning ATM card at the Grocery Store. Loosing line of sight of my youngest at the mall during the Holiday season. Not knowing where my phone is the morning after I’ve had too much wine. A near empty gas can on a long stretch of highway in Central CA late at night. Finding an odd bump on my person. Closed door meetings in the office. Earthquake weather. Clowns that smile.
What Dreams May Come
My mother never asked my sisters and I if we wanted to come to the United States. This land was thrust upon us and yet we love it. We learned its language, we merged our norms into its culture, we are raising families and we naturalized.
Our story is not unique…I would venture to say it
At Drop Off
“Got it” his yelp trailed off as the passenger side door closed shut behind him. I sat there a moment watching him walk away and thinking that my own father would not have let me get away with that flip of a good-bye.
My parents were different though and each morning at drop off or each night at bedtime we had to tell our parents we loved them whether we felt like it or not. I recall countless times when I kissed my dad on the forehead before going to bed while seething inside about his latest trespass I had perceived. I recoiled when my mother demanded that I give her a good-bye hug the morning after she had told me she wasn’t going to pay for brand name sneakers. I didn’t care for those moments. Now here I was, limp in my seat questioning whether I should demand the “I love you too” I feel I have earned. The light honk behind snapped me out my pity party and I drove away from the Middle School.
A cup of freshly brewed coffee waited for me at home…it would certainly perk my spirits.
In the Darkness
All the lights flicked off last night at 10:43 pm.
The darkness that followed was eerie and gave me a peek of my home as I’ve never seen it before. Typically when the day is done and I get to bed I walk about confidently in the blackness taking cues from the remaining spots of light. There’s the nightlight in one of the bedrooms, the cool trail of blue light from our router, the green clock the stove gives off, or the red glowing buttons of the power-strips about. All of those were snuffed out last evening leaving the innards of our home engulfed in near crepuscule. Then a moment ago as I went to check on my unknowing kiddos I looked out the front windows and the familiar silhouette of my foothills to the north greeted my eyes. The envious moon could not let the absence of light have its way and it focused its attention to us below. It brought a bright smile to my face…right here in the dark.
Sunshine
I’m not one to try to cover things up and they say there’s nothing hidden under the sun but I feel that I try to shed light on anything of importance today it will eclipsed by the news from the sky. Guess I’ll just go have me a Moon over my Hammy or maybe eggs sunny side up.
Coach Eubanks
A throng of smelly kids sat cloistered on the floor of a gymnasium with most wearing sad-coloured sweatpants. They and I waited for minutes until the moment from an office a tall and handsome man emerged from an office. Coach Eubanks was the tallest man I’d encountered and in a neighbourhood of nearly all brown-folk his much darker skin made him even more impressive. He had a walk too that’s hard to describe but implied that he owned all the space around and that included that which we shared with him.
In the shortest time we learned he was a no none sense trainer and he respected basketball and the lessons he told us the sport would teach us if we were bright enough to pay attention. The man had no patient for slackers and we learned fast not to test him. About the third practice he caught on to me that several of the boys had trouble with lay-ups and I was the worst of the bunch.
Fed up with our attempts he stopped practice cold and gathered us all. Coach them asked us if we loved pie. Puzzled some answered yes. I hesitated (I don’t like sweets). He snapped at me and tersely asked me again and fearing wrath I answered in the affirmative. Satisfied he told us in a hushed dramatic tone to close our eyes and imagine an apple pie sitting on the window sill of a house. He told us all about the crusts color, the aroma it wafted in the air and how delicate of a pastry it was. Then he made us all turn our right palms up in the air and imagine him placing the warm apple-dessert flatly on it and implored us not to drop it. All 14 of us boys ran about laps about the gym with pretend pies in the air. The next day the present pies were replaced by basketballs as we ran laps. The day after that we started to make approaches towards the basket and hopping at the end as if we had to skip over a pretend obstacle. Finally on the fourth day we started making baskets again and interestingly enough our accuracy had much improved. Even I had much improved.
I had forgotten about the pies until yesterday while shooting hoops with my own sweaty-kid who inherited my awkward gene.
Thanks Coach Eubanks!
Ancient Tech
While on a walkabout the kids found an olde antique shop in San Dimas. There they came about an ancient device with some odd dial for sale. They pawed at it with wonder for a minute before I stepped in. I told them a land-before-time tale of phones without screens.
They stood there in wonderment of them simpler times.
Money Talk
I knew what they were doing when they went into their bedrooms. My sister’s guessed but didn’t catch on until much later.
I didn’t listen in but I awaited with baited breath and watched for minutes on end for the moment they were done and the door knob began to move. My parents always discussed money matters behind closed doors. If the van broke down, if all three kids needed school clothes, if the dog was ill, if dad wanted to buy a 6-Disc CD changer, if a holiday bonus check was light, if the rent was being increased or if my dad lost his wallet again…my parents would retreat into a closed session in their bedroom to deliberate.
Sometimes loudly.
All I could do was wait to hear their answer to the problem which usually would mean taking something fun away from my kid-sisters and I. My wife and I manage money different and there are very few secrets when it comes to funds at Casa Torres. I wonder then what the Ramblers think on the occasion when our bedroom door is closed.
Giving Thanks
Chickens fed, wife dropped off at work, dishes in the washer…all before 7 am.
That was my rushed morning as I pulled up groggy to the gas station on the corner of Route 66 and Mountain at 7:05 am.
My thoughts were on the day’s itinerary as I opened the door to my car and almost immediately I caught a glimpse of a man at the pump next to mine. I noticed him, took in his wears, glanced at his steely glare and wanted to say something. Something stopped me and I proceeded into the station to get some java and order gasoline.
He was still there as I began to make my way back to the car and with a sip of coffee in my belly I resolved to address him. I caught him by surprise and in the middle of him wiping the back window of his black sedan.
I squared up to him, met his gaze, wished him a good morning and thanked him for Service. The soldier in him didn’t miss a beat and almost immediately said “thank you for your support.”
With that our moment was over but I’d like to think that others before me have shown him appreciation and that’s why he knew just what to say and how to say it.
A Cherub came Home
A cherub came home.
He was plump and a little wrinkly as I carried him past the threshold.
For some time his cheeks so pinchable, arms squishable and when he laughed his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.
Fast forward a decade just after I picked him up at the airport from his first summer trip. His 5’1″ frame strutted into his home and shocked his mom for a moment. He’s now taller than some adults. Traded the wrinkles for long lean legs and arms.
His sweetness remains.
He has not but one care.
The cherub is gone and
morphing to debonair.