Pribek

Brother Jack has been side-swiped by issues in the real world and an irritating inability to access the ‘net. This is his sister stepping in just so you, his regular readers, don’t wind up wandering out onto the highway without some entertaining guidance. I’m hardly the writer my brother is, but let’s see how I can do with our latest news.

We have a 44th president. That in of itself is newsworthy all on its own, but the historical significance is that the color barrier has finally been broken: the United States has a black president (or if you’d like to be politically correct, African-American).

Our dad, aka ‘the old man’, loved history and loved politics. Dad could find a weakness in an argument in less than five minutes when arguing both those loves and this particular election would have been Manna to him.

The other day, I spoke to our youngest brother, Jim, who seems to have inherited Dad’s ability to get right to the heart of a matter. I haven’t such skill and have always been woefully under-equipped in discussing either history or politics. I can run circles around you about the Harry Potter universe, but let’s not go there. Anyway, so Jim called, ecstatic that he’d voted and wanting to make sure I voted. Of course I did. Jim mentioned that he and Jack were talking a couple of days before and Jack had quipped to Jim, “I wonder what the old man would say?”

I wish we had an answer.

I do know that Dad would have loved it. He’d be skewering the wary and unaware left and right with just the right point.

About an hour ago, I lit (I thought) my last Pall Mall and was preparing to knock off for the night.

But….

…my mind is like an old, heavy duty, Norge refrigerator, humming reliably along and the door is cluttered with pictures, out-of-date calendars, children’s artwork, shopping lists and a thousand memos all stuck on there with magnets. Every once in a while, a breeze will come and blow away some of the clutter, exposing another layer of forgotten to-do lists.

The old man was a character. Lived through the great depression, the big war, served in the Navy during Korea. Straight out of the service, he took a job selling Edsel’s and used his G.I. Bill to take flying lessons. He was a salesman to the end but, I don’t think he ever flew a plane more than a couple of times after he got his license.

He was a washout as a student but a voracious reader, read more books than anyone I’ve ever known. Any kind of books, every kind of books. Maybe, because of his lack of formal education, his opinions and analysis of literature were fascinating, untainted by conventional wisdom, raw reactions.

I often asked his for take on different writers.

Steinbeck-”He was pretty good, some of his characters could have used some balls, like the guy in “Winter of Our Discontent”. “Travels With Charley”, that was a good book.”

Hemingway-”He was a good writer. He was better when he wasn’t writing about all that overtly macho crap. He may have been a closet fag. “Old Man And The Sea”, that was a really good book.”

Not long before he died, we were sitting around on a summer night, drinking beer and, there was some show on T.V. that had something about Kerouac. I was surprised, for some reason, when he told me that he really enjoyed “On the Road”.

So, I asked him what he thought about Ferlinghetti, Ginsberg and the beat poets.

“Ahh…I never went much for poetry. So much of it is so cerebral or, seems like just an intellectual pursuit. Charles Bukowski, I like some of his stuff, more for the common man. You know who was really good, though? That longshoreman from San Francisco, Hoffer. I think he was better than all those guys. You should read some of his stuff.”

And tonight, four Pall Mall’s ago, as I was getting ready to hit the hay, it came to me all of the sudden; I never did look into the longshoreman/poet from San Francisco. And, that’s exactly what I typed into the search engine; longshoreman/poet from San Francisco. One thing about the web that I love is, when the mental to-do list catches my glance, I can at least take a first step, right then. Once I’ve taken the first step, I’m more likely to follow through.

Eric Hoffer said…

“Spiritual stagnation ensues when man’s environment becomes unpredictable or when his inner life is made wholly predictable.”

and…

“The compulsion to take ourselves seriously is in inverse proportion to our creative capacity. When the creative flow dries up, all we have left is our importance.”

Sometimes, something will keep you awake a little longer than you intended. Some might say it’s a ghost me, I tend to look at it as a little reminder to follow through.

Troubling news from Sacramento.

Police arrested a 47-year-old man Saturday morning after finding about 300 dead cats stuffed into freezers in his house.

Police Sgt. Jim Hose said Vondueren interfered with officers who attempted to enter his home on the 4700 block of 19th Street about 8:30 a.m.

Once inside the home, Hose said officers found three freezers crammed with hundreds of dead cats. Hose said the house was littered with cat feces.

Hose said animal control was looking into citing Vondueren on additional charges.

So, what do you suppose a guy plans to do with all those frozen cats?

Newcomers may want to take a look at this post “Most Peculiar Mama (Don’t Eat Your Cat)”.

Click here for the official “Don’t Eat Your Cat” coffee mug, bumper sticker and other quality items.