The Lord knows that I hate myself for behaving so violently. Allow me to set up the situation so that you may better understand the previous statement.

After having finished mowing our front yard, I was sweeping up some random clippings. Buddy, our dog, was lying in the shade, on the freshly cut grass.

From our east came a bicyclist riding on the sidewalk. While I saw him, I thought nothing of it as Buddy got up and walked to the edge of our yard to greet the rider.

Without warning, he kicked Buddy in the face, causing the dog to yelp in pain. Seeing me and the broom, he tried to skirt me, thinking I was going to swing it at him, jumping his bicycle from the sidewalk.

However, I never intended to swing at him. Instead, I hiked the broom handle through the spokes of his front wheel.

The sudden stop not only destroyed five of his spokes, but it toppled him face-first to the asphalt, back tire in the air. When he jumped to his feet, his face, hands and elbows, and one knee were rashed up and bleeding.

He came off the ground, ready to fight. I flicked open my lock blade knife and stood my ground which was in my driveway.

Then the shouting commenced once he realized I wasn’t going to back down from his blustering.

“What the fuck, man!” he said. “What did you do that for?”

“You kicked my dog in the face, asswipe,” I answered.

“I didn’t mean, too.”

“Bullshit, liar!”

“Well, I’m gonna call the cops.”

“Do that, prick.”

“You ruined my tire.”

“Be happy I don’t ruin your life.”

He hobbled away, bicycle inoperable, in the direction he was riding and I have yet to hear from the law.

Dearest Sweetheart,

Sorry that it has taken me so long to write, new promotion, new duties. Got the chocolate chip cooks you sent. Delicious. We got our 25th kill a couple of days ago. Command says that we’ve almost got it whipped. The Delta Variant Zed is getting bigger. Larger than that Woolly Mammoth we saw in captivity two years ago.  Will be home on the 20th, in time to fix that gutter again. The kids must be growing like weeds. Kiss them for me, tell them I love them. I love and miss you too.

Your devoted husband,
Francis

Between shows of the Virginia City Camel Races, I found myself sitting in the shade, people-watching, done laissez-faire, without word or action. I was enjoying the warm breeze, one that both heats and cools, when suddenly my mind wandered off without me…

I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
And I walked away from home.
O’ I am a storyteller.

I once was a big old dog.
O’ a big wet-nosed dog
O’ a big wet-nosed dog
And I wandered off to roam
O’ a big wet-nosed dog

I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
And I walked away from home.
O’ I am a storyteller.

I once was little bitty fish.
O’ a bitty little swimmin’ fish
O’ a bitty little swimmin’ fish
And play in a sea of foam
O’ a little bitty fish

I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
O’ I am a storyteller
And I walked away from home.
O’ I am a storyteller.

About 0330 hours, twenty years ago, extremely drunk and feeling hopeless, I walked out into an open field, placed a 40 caliber revolver in my mouth, said a prayer for forgiveness, took a deep breath, let it out, and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

A friend had found me and grabbed the gun, placing the web of her right hand between the hammer and the cylinder. Her husband wrestled the weapon away from me.

I survived.

Many men and women are not so fortunate and succeed, ending their lives because the pain is too much to bear. I am neither proud nor ashamed of having tried, but I also realize that there is life beyond the pain and that while the pain may always exist, suicide is absolute and final.

If you have thoughts of suicide or know someone who is contemplating suicide (including mentioning it in passing,) take the comment as serious and seek help. You can call National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or if you are a military veteran and prefer talking to another veteran, dial the Veterans Crisis Line at 1-800-273-8255 and press 1.

There is no shame in asking for help. I have been there, done that, and I know.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Some guy tried to tell that Jesus would have practiced social distancing. Burst his bubble when I reminded him that Jesus touched lepers.”

Work at times has been hard to find, and travel necessitated to find and make it a reality. That is the way of the world.

It was late because I started late, so I pulled off the side of the road, down a dirt road to the side of a creek. I had only a couple of more hours to travel before I got to the ranch on the other side of Elko.

Hurrying to beat the sunset, I pulled the plastic tarp over the bed of my truck, tossed in the extra blankets and my old military sleeping bag. With little time left before complete darkness, I opened a can of beans and ate until the can was empty.

Stumbling my way down to the creek in the warning light, undid my wild rag, dipped it in the icy water, and wiped the sweat off my face, neck, and underarms. Then returning to my truck, I climbed under the tarp into my sleeping bag and fell asleep to the gentle burbling of the creek.

I awoke from a dream of taking a hot shower, only to find myself still in my sleeping bag and cold.

Laying there, I realized my mistake. I had not thought out my parking arrangement very well and found the cab blocking the newly risen sun from shining on the bed.

It was a struggle to get moving. I opened the bed of the truck and scrambled out, finding myself to be stiff from the hard surface I had slept on and the morning chill.

As fast as I could, hoping to get my heartbeat up and blood flowing, I raced around my truck twice. Then I hoped in it, shoved the key in the ignition, and checked the time that flashed across the radio’s face.

Next, I got out my toothbrush and headed back to the creek’s edge. There I rested on my knees and brushed my teeth.

Tucking my brush in my shirt pocket, I pulled out my wild rag from the night before and dipped it in the water. As I started to wring it out, I heard a large cracking sound come from up the bank of the water from me.

“Bear?” I thought, listening for more sounds.

It was while listening that I saw the heavy mist-like fog curling and floating above the water. It struck me a magical, and I wondered at myself and why I’d hadn’t noticed it before.

My reverie was broken by yet another loud crashing in the trees up from me. I needed to get out of there and back to my truck before that bear discovered me.

It happened as I stood up.

The leader of a herd of wild Mustang stepped down the embankment and into the water. She looked in my direction and continued across the swift-moving waters.

Behind her came several more horses, all of them ignoring my presence and following their leader. I watched in awe as they moved through the water, hooves clickity-clacking on the stones in the brisk water that barely rose to their mid-hocks.

After counting about 50 horses, I finally came to my senses and stepping back to where I’d come, into the copse of trees. Loaded up, I turned my truck around and headed for the ranch and the possibility of work.

“I need someone to help stretch some new wire before the snow sets in,” the ranch foreman said.

I wasn’t listening, and he sensed it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered, “Was thinking about what I’d seen this morning.”

“Do tell,” he instructed, leaning back in his chair.

I did.

He hired me.

My Cousin Elmo says, “One should always knock on the refrigerator door before opening it because there could be a salad dressing.”

It has been a busy few days. I didn’t see home for nearly 19 hours one day, which was when I broke my record for consecutive blog posts, missing that day.

Because of the way my brain works, chemicals and proteins, and such, I was sure that missing a day would mean a certain kind of death. If you are OCD, you understand what I’m saying.

But honestly, I was so exhausted I didn’t even notice it until today. And as strange as it might sound, I feel relieved that it happened, that the pressure I put myself under is released.

The other thing is that you didn’t notice that I missed a day of blogging, or if you did, you said nothing. I discovered at that moment that you didn’t abandon me in my ‘failure.’

Finally, my work schedule is changing, and with it, the knowledge that I have to be more attentive to the job than other non-paying activities includes blogging, podcasting, and so forth.

With all this said, oddly, I am looking forward to that next stressor.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Vaccinate or don’t vaccinate, I don’t care, but take a shower daily!”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I don’t always get sick, but when I do, I get my immune system drunk, so it’ll fight anything.”