Category: Stories

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Too bad Too be true

You’ve heard the expressions ” so bad it’s good,” and the like? Well my first boss as a practicing anthropologist was so bad that he created a drive in me to be really good at my job.

It all began after I’d received the phone call that I’d gotten the job. I was to start the first working day after the New Year in 1981. But first Mr. Joseph’s ( not the real name) wouold like to see you tomorrow. Well tomorrow turned out to be Christmas Eve. It wasn’t so much an interview, a welcome to our organization talk, or a tour of where I’d be working. It was a grilling, abuse session and tirade that I was a lousy choice for the job. He was going to keep a close eye on me!

Ok, I didn’t expect a pageant thrown in my honor, or a rave session on how my many talents would excel at the job. But not a vicious bout of recriminations from a person I’d never met, nor done anything to. Later at dinner with my friend, we pored over the meeting for any hints that might reveal the source of his anger. We finally settled on the selection committee not having chosen his favored candidate. Later in the discussion, we turned over any hopes that I might save my chestnuts from burning in this particular fire. But I couldn’t find one.

Joltin’ Joe

So after the first of the year, I began. I stayed at that job for seven and a half years. For most of that time, I was threatened, abused, and hated by the person my staff and I called ” Joltin’ Joe.”

Joltin’ Joe didn’t mean to, and he probably would have had a fit if he knew, but he brought out the best efforts in me. My efforts on behalf of the local communities I served continue to be among my most prized achievements.

How did I round this bit out? Well, I received an offer from a prestigious organization. They wanted me to work for them as a consultant at a significant increase in salary. I had also heard via the grapevine that Joe was hatching another in his succession of plots to fire me. I waited until I knew he was out to lunch. Then I arrived at his office after he left. I went to his office and left my letter of resignation on his desk. Then I walked the mile or so to mine. When I arrived, the phone was already ringing. It was a colleague from the main office who told me that Joltin’ Joe was screaming, yelling, and throwing things in his office. What had I done?

Make good from bad if you can. You’ll be doing well while doing good. And you just might get some chuckles at the end!

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One Liner Wednesday – 12/17/2025

“Well, if crime fighters fight crime and firefighters fight fire, what do freedom fighters fight?” ~ George Carlin

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Prognosticator?

Daily writing prompt
Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?
View all responses

I would suggest that you avoid leaping to conclusions. Squinting into the tea leaves and ominously proclaiming that this was going to be a banner year is a dangerous activity.

I’m kind of ahead of the curve here, and not about to spoil the deal by building envy…yeah…there’s no Maserati in the garage, hell, there isn’t even a garage! But last night I sat on the chest by the woodstove looking into the fire. The dog was snoozing on the hearth, my sweetie was in the rocking chair, and the two cats were purring up a storm. It was a kind of mural of family contentment.

Sunday, the Tribe will gather to decorate the little tree, tell outrageous stories, watch Christmas oldies that they loved when they were little, and generally have a good time.

Expectations

I’ve had Christmases that were more spare. It was just me and my cat, the Grey Menace. It was a catnip mouse for him and a snifter of the cheapest brandy for me. We were in a little house by the railroad tracks, and thankful that the heat was working. It taught me not to get involved with building too elaborate expectations based on fantasy—no courtships based on cheap TV shows or movie scripts.

Is your life today what you pictured a year ago? That’s the wrong question. Playing games with the future is playing against the house in a casino. I had a friend who loved to forecast his wealth trends…” If this continues, I’ll have the Maserati and the garage in two years.” Well, he never did. But all that prognostication kept him from enjoying the very wonderful life he did have.

The reality just never matched up to the overblown expectations, plans, and fantasies.

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breaking up is hard to do

I had horrible taste in women, and the older she got, the less sure she was about anything to do with men. It was an explosive mixture that was certain to result in a hot chemistry for about two weeks and an explosive rupture soon after. I was accused of toying with her emotions. I blamed her for the positive test for a nasty infection on her wandering ways.

The explosion happened at Paul’s party, and it spiced up a ho-hum evening with people taking bets, sides, and comparing it to other spicy breakups. Our host made the mistake of getting in the middle. I don’t remember who shoved who first, but we both lashed out at the interference.

We made a hasty exit, wound up at her place, and what can I say? It’s true, make up sex is incredible.

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Fugitive craft

Sensei was fond of describing the arts of the sword as “fugitive.” By that, he meant that if not practiced, the accuracy of the skill would decline. And anytime work picked up and I missed practice or classes for a while, I found out exactly how right he was. A cut would be too low, too high, or not inside the targeted zone. The answer would be only practice and continuous application.

More recently, I’ve been playing the guitar again, and I realized that it, too, is a fugitive art. Strength in the hands is not like the old days, and accuracy in chording needs work. And so on.

Practice Makes…

As of last week, I’ve started up in the shop again after only a brief pause. But having seen the results of a layoff in other areas, I determined to spend time on projects I haven’t had need to do for a while. I’ve mostly been doing boat portrait work. Not a lot of work has come in for lettering, chip carving, or general relief work, so in January, those are the areas I’ll start working on in addition to the portrait work.

It’s too easy to describe foundational work as a rote technical performance. Correctly used, they are conditioners of our physical techniques. In chip carving, for instance, they help us develop precise cutting techniques – delivering a needed cut at an exact angle. It’s a skill that is as useful in cutting a rosette as it is in detailing a sail on a portrait of a schooner. And it’s only achievable through practice. It’s not something that you can will into existence by acts of persistent imagination.

Another bit of this is that sometimes the basics expand our horizons. I was never keen on chip carving until I was marking time over my government layoff during Clinton’s “Reinvention of Government “(so-called!). My stress levels were through the roof. I made a small carving kit of some slip-resistant padding, two chip carving knives, and some small pieces of wood. It all fit into a cedar cigar box. I could take this anywhere ( well, other than an airport) and spend a lunch hour creating some small piece of chip carving. It considerably relieved my stress and taught me things about carving I had never known. It entirely changed how I carved letters.

On the Other Hand…

Artists who lay off art and musicians who spend time away from music sometimes admit to a refreshed interest. After all, what we do is not just mechanical – it’s not like changing a tire on a car. The mechanics are crucial, but the attitude we bring to the work is what makes it live. In that way, a period of laying can be time well spent when you begin again refreshed and with a bit of a new perspective.

If only we could learn to balance the two opposing effects.

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Local

eagle weathervane

Last summer, the planets aligned, and my wife had vacation time all in a clump rather than spread out. It was especially favorable that My work schedule decreased at the same time. That rare event occurred, and we had time off together.

Having other responsibilities and a non-abundant supply of cash, we decided on a host of day trips throughout our region. And that’s how we made a succession of wonderful day trips in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Southern Maine to visit cities that we had mostly passed en route to other places.

One small city surprised me. We sat in a restaurant for lunch, and the bulb went off. I recognized the street scene from sometime in the sixties. There’d been a coffeehouse there, and a short interlude years ago. Pleasant memories flowed.

In Manchester, New Hampshire, we were captivated by Cat Alley and the Cat Alley coffee shop and gift shop. Visit if you can, if only to see the Cat Alley paintings in the alley.

Colorful mural welcoming visitors to Cat Alley, featuring a cartoon cat and playful text on a brick wall.
A colorful mural featuring playful text that says 'THE PURRfect TIMING IS... MEOW' with illustrations of cats and whimsical designs, painted on a brick wall.
Colorful mural featuring a cat in a black dress striking a pose, with abstract shapes and other whimsical characters in the background.
Colorful mural of cats on a brick wall featuring a playful green cat and a stylized blue and yellow cat design.
A colorful mural depicting a blue cat lying on its back surrounded by fish illustrations on a brick wall.
A colorful mural depicting various cats and whimsical scenes, including a cat with a crown and other artistic representations on a brick wall.
A colorful mural depicting cats around a campfire, playing musical instruments, set against a brick wall.

It’s common to plan a vacation around distant places. And build expectant images of what you will find when you arrive. In our case, we were time and money-limited, but had rewarding experiences within two hours of home. Of course, the most important thing was that we were together, which, with divergent schedules, is too rare an event.

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A beautiful memory…

Truth be told I was not as wild as my reputation made out…no, not at all.And all those nasty things they said about me? Well they were just jealous.

Well, the above is pretty much true. With a guitar, backpack, and an attitude, I’d swing into a pretty milk and toast establishment like a rockstar. I wasn’t one, didn’t want to be one, and in fact, I was often just searching for refuge. But there I was, singing those dirty and wild songs, not just in town, but way out of town. I’d not only been to the big city, but I was from the big city. Not to put too big a shine on it, I bedazzled some. Well, things happened. Then I left. Hopefully leaving a, well, beautiful memory? At least I thought so…

You know you can find almost anyone on a search engine today. Thankfully, no one ever looked me up. No, not that! not “Hi Daddy!” – Jeeeze, you have a hyperactive imagination! I was careful.

But you know those words from one of Warren’s songs’:

Some days I feel like my shadow′s casting me

Some days the sun don’t shine

Sometimes I wonder what tomorrow′s gonna bring

When I think about my dirty life and times

One day I came to a fork in the road

Folks, I just couldn’t go where I was told

Now they’ll hunt me down and hang me for my crimes

If I tell about my dirty life and times

Zevon died for our sins.

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Retread

Daily writing prompt
Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.
View all responses

Last year, one of my winter-time prescriptions for the winter blahs was to pick up the guitar again and begin playing. It’s been a struggle to restart something that was once like breathing. There was a time when I practiced for a minimum of an hour each day. I am nowhere near that level at this point, but at least I no longer feel guilty about passing where my guitar, Charlie, is hung. Things have progressed, and I no longer think that I should practice in a closet because it’s so bad.

But there is something odd about this process. While I am out of practice, I am not returning as the same player. I’ve especially noticed this in the past few weeks. My right hand technique is different; the sort of picks and strums I use and combine are not the ones I used to use. Also, I’m selecting different pieces to play.

In a clutch, could I echo the old Wes Carson? I don’t think so. Not only is the old playing style gone, but the singing is different, too. In the old days, I made the best of an average set of vocal cords, and made delivery and style make up for a lack of vocal virtuosity. I make no claims for having been a great talent – just enthusiastic.

Part of the issue is that years of inhalers for intermittent asthma did not do wonderful things for my voice. I think with practice, I’ll improve again. But I now sound more like Dave Van Ronk than Wes Carson. The irony of that is that in the old days I struggled to imitate Van Ronk’s throaty growl, and now it’s easy. However, a clearer baritone is more evasive.

I’ve discussed all this with Charlie. Yes, I do discuss things musical with my guitar. We’ve been together since the very early sixties, hitched all over, played the nightmare circuit, and…well, you get the idea. So, yeah, while the conversations are one-way, they are frequently productive. Charlie is a guitar, and his whole gig is providing resonance. so it works out.

How do I feel about this developing difference? Happy. There’s a Muhammad Ali quote that runs: “A man who views the world the same at 50 as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.” I think that applies to old Folkies as well, who are rediscovering their music.

Wait a minute, I hear a thrum from Charlie. What’s that? ” When are we going to go looking for a gig?” Ahh, I haven’t thought that far. “Yeah, well, comebacks are hell, man!”

So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Onward!

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Simple

eagle weathervane

My job was reduced from full-time to part-time in May. Well, you might say, “At seventy-nine, you were still working full time? You were still working at all?” Yes, quite happily as a matter of fact. My job running a small access television organization is not onerous, not normally stressful, and I am appreciated by the Board of the corporation I work for.

Business as usual was interrupted, however, by changing cable habits – cord-cutting. At least where I am, revenues for cable access organizations are tied solely to a percentage of the revenues from traditional cable boxes. People “cut the cord” for streaming services and revenue drops. I think in some states the state governments have made other funding arrangements, but not in mine. So, when revenue went down with no prospects for going up, funding for my position was cut.

The outshot of this was much more time on my hands. Whoppeee! Youy might say. But I’ve struggled to use the time profitably. Days are vacant that I was used to filling up with shooting video, editing, working on servers and such. I floundered. Business was not as usual, and instead of being productive in my other persuits like my garden, or carving I actually became less.

At last, I’ve begun to grapple with time management. It’s a simple tool that I used to use in my consulting days. It’s just a simple checklist that I can check off with checks and notes as I complete tasks.

Sometimes it’s true the simple things work.

K.I.S.S , Keep It Simple, Stupid!

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The Sword

On the wall of our bedroom hangs a sword rack with several wooden Japanese practice swords and a very actual and quite sharp Japanese Tanto, a short sword. Below this is a certificate proclaiming me to be a San Dan (third-degree black belt) in Iaido. Iaido is a Japanese sword art. I earned that degree after about ten years of study, slowly progressing in degrees, and on March 15th, 2015, I earned it.

Arthritis is a thing to miss

Arthritis has made some of the Kata ( practice exercises) difficult or impossible for me. But those are mostly the antique postures that would have been effective in pre-modern Japan. Why are such Kata still included in the course of study? Partially because of tradition, but also because of the lessons they contain of strategy, tactics, and the lessons of fluid mobility under challenging circumstances. One is not always defending or attacking from an ideal position. Despite the handicap that arthritis has imposed, I still practice kata as a way of reinforcing training, but also to retain and extend mobility. With arthritis, you can’t just let the condition progress without opposition; too soon, you’ll be a statue.

The Way of Martial Arts

Many people misconstrue training in martial arts with aggressive acts. Having studied Judo in my youth, and Kenjutsu, and Iaido in maturity, I can attest that true martial artists are among the most polite and courteous people you can meet. The aggressive, habitual braggarts are the result of broken traditions and training regimes without an underlying philosophy.

To many westerners, the concept of philosophy in martial traditions seems a contradiction. But it’s not. Training in martial arts puts much power in the hands of the practitioner, and with power comes potential abuse. Philosophy and traditional practices contain and channel ability.

Now, as I’ve said, most martial artists of my acquaintance are the most polite individuals I have known. But here is a little story from my years of training in Judo as a youth.

A senior Sensei (high-ranking teacher) was visiting the dojo that I belonged to. After a practice session, we offered to take Sensei out to dinner. On the way, we were standing at a corner waiting for traffic to stop when a group of young men started harassing an older woman. Harassing turned to shoving, and Sensei turned to the youth and politely asked them to stop—they continued. Sensei then politely asked them ot stop again. They turned and decided that the short, elderly Japanese man was a good target and attacked him. About thirty seconds later, we all proceeded on our way, leaving the young thugs to sort themselves out and pick themselves up off the ground. Sensei had used only enough force and technique to disable them as a threat.