This blog started out as a collection of cab stories. I'd read Hack and said to myself, I've got so many more stories, and better stories.............
I told myself that when I started actually writing the book, I'd go back through the posts, and one by one take them down, as they went into the pages of the book. Otherwise, I wasn't going to go back and read my own writing. Lately, I did a little reading of my own writing, and it's evolved. I now see why people don't write in certain ways. You don't say, "Ah, yeah................ Ah, am, er.... and so forth", before you begin to speak like you would if you were actually speaking. Readers won't tolerate it. They just put the book down, or click into the next website, or what ever they do. When I started this blog, I put that stuff in on purpose because it's how I'd actually tell the story if you were in my cab listening. I, the reader would put the book down too.
Perhaps my writing has improved.
There are a few reasons for reading those old posts. How many of you keep a diary? Do you ever read that diary? How much value is there in reading your own diary?
I came across a letter that I'd written to my daughter. I've written dozens of letters to my daughter, and only ever mailed 2 perhaps. Last time I saw her, she was 5. All the stuff I'd write to her is on real paper, so to get it here I'd have to transcribe it. Last time I talked to her, she told me I'd have to do some really off the wall things if I ever wanted to talk to her again. Some time later, my mother told me she'd had second thoughts, but what she'd said to me was sufficiently off the wall that I said to myself, I should be afraid of somebody with that much hate in them.
How did I come to be talking to her? I had hunted her up on the internet, I sent an email to someone who was probably her. Bingo, it was her. I'd sent an email to one, Lisa Sherrill Schumaker of the Tuscon, Arizona area, employee of the State of Arizona. Over the years, she'd kept in contact with grandma, and my sister, but not me. I was this monster or something, and everyone was to hide her from me. Something she probably never realized was how off the wall my relationship with my mother was. Her total image of me was the one painted by my mother, her mother, and her mother's family. Great portrait.
Back in the early '70's her mother figured out that it was much more profitable to not have a husband. She had a live in boyfriend who paid 1/2 her rent, and a female room mate who paid 1/2 the rent on the house, and she went to my mother and grand parents frequently with her hand out asking for more money to tide her over until next months child support check came. I'm sure she never hit on her own family. In spite of the fact that her father was a salaried consultant to a major automaker, and a tenured professor at the University of Michigan, and a staff officer in the US Air Force, he never had any money. Just like her. She asked my dad once, and he asked what she was willing to give him for it. For ever more, she'd claim that my dad had propositioned her.
So do you ever read your own diary? Huh?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A dangerous Ground Hog Day
I've seen cold, and I've seen snow, but..............
Last night was the first time I've ever laid in bed and said to myself, if the electricity goes out, I'm in a lot of trouble. I thought of the flashlight, and said to myself, "The truck will start, and the tank is full." The last time I really remember something like this was when I moved here in January of 1979. I lived in a huge old converted frat house on Lake Mendota, south shore. I can remember watching those waves of snow sweeping up against the house off the lake. It wasn't scary then. It never occurred to me that the heat or electric could fail. Where I'm at as I write, the heat is electric, so if the electric failed, well, the dog and I would be in a lot of trouble.
The national news, (NATIONAL, not local, NATIONAL), mentioned 7 cars out on an Illinois interstate highway, about an hour from here, stranded for over 12 hours. They say a snowmobile club is trying to rescue those people from their cars. Before I moved here, I'd seen blizzards before, but they were pretty warm compared to here. Heavy wet snow. This snow is really cold, and blows good. Snow that blows good, creates drifts, and it doesn't take a drift over the top of your house to put you in a lot of trouble. A drift across the highway that's 12" deep is enough to trap the car in front of you, then your, then....... A truck sliding off the highway can drop an electric pole that will kill the power for 1,000's of people. And, as if it wasn't bad enough, they say that tonight the low will be around -10, which is around -23 centigrade.
The news people have been making a big deal out of the 'thunder' snow. I heard the thunder last night, and it didn't worry me that much, but perhaps it should have. Another way to wipe out an electric pole and kill 1000's of peoples power is a lightning strike on a power pole. Where there's thunder, there's lightning.
They say that in Indiana the electricity is out in places and they don't expect to restore it for days. They also say there is an inch of ice on some highways. I've been through Indiana in a truck during a storm like that, it requires very careful driving. The biggest problem in a storm like that is you can't get off the highway. Imagine pulling down the exit ramp and the only place you can go is back up the on ramp. And the on ramp looks kind of sketchy, but you can't park in the middle of the highway, so back up onto the interstate you go. Indiana is a lot warmer than here, so they'll get warm air and rain that will burn it off.
In Egypt there are riots with soldiers trying hard to not kill people. The news just announced a molotov being thrown from the roof of a building into a crowd of people. The result of the unrest in Egypt is a 10% overnight increase in the price of gasoline. So in this neck of the woods, gas is around $3.20/gal, and diesel is around $3.40. That means that driving a truck around is getting pretty expensive, figure a dollar a mile for where ever you're going, round trip. Wow, a trip to Seattle, just for fuel, is around $2,000.............. Wow............
Oh, yeah, the ground hog. Since he's under snow, he's unlikely to see a shadow. So, why should he be scared of it, and go back inside. If I was the ground hog, I'd be digging a tunnel through the snow looking for some frozen greenery to eat. So, I'm guessing, the ground hog prediction will be early spring.
Last night was the first time I've ever laid in bed and said to myself, if the electricity goes out, I'm in a lot of trouble. I thought of the flashlight, and said to myself, "The truck will start, and the tank is full." The last time I really remember something like this was when I moved here in January of 1979. I lived in a huge old converted frat house on Lake Mendota, south shore. I can remember watching those waves of snow sweeping up against the house off the lake. It wasn't scary then. It never occurred to me that the heat or electric could fail. Where I'm at as I write, the heat is electric, so if the electric failed, well, the dog and I would be in a lot of trouble.
The national news, (NATIONAL, not local, NATIONAL), mentioned 7 cars out on an Illinois interstate highway, about an hour from here, stranded for over 12 hours. They say a snowmobile club is trying to rescue those people from their cars. Before I moved here, I'd seen blizzards before, but they were pretty warm compared to here. Heavy wet snow. This snow is really cold, and blows good. Snow that blows good, creates drifts, and it doesn't take a drift over the top of your house to put you in a lot of trouble. A drift across the highway that's 12" deep is enough to trap the car in front of you, then your, then....... A truck sliding off the highway can drop an electric pole that will kill the power for 1,000's of people. And, as if it wasn't bad enough, they say that tonight the low will be around -10, which is around -23 centigrade.
The news people have been making a big deal out of the 'thunder' snow. I heard the thunder last night, and it didn't worry me that much, but perhaps it should have. Another way to wipe out an electric pole and kill 1000's of peoples power is a lightning strike on a power pole. Where there's thunder, there's lightning.
They say that in Indiana the electricity is out in places and they don't expect to restore it for days. They also say there is an inch of ice on some highways. I've been through Indiana in a truck during a storm like that, it requires very careful driving. The biggest problem in a storm like that is you can't get off the highway. Imagine pulling down the exit ramp and the only place you can go is back up the on ramp. And the on ramp looks kind of sketchy, but you can't park in the middle of the highway, so back up onto the interstate you go. Indiana is a lot warmer than here, so they'll get warm air and rain that will burn it off.
In Egypt there are riots with soldiers trying hard to not kill people. The news just announced a molotov being thrown from the roof of a building into a crowd of people. The result of the unrest in Egypt is a 10% overnight increase in the price of gasoline. So in this neck of the woods, gas is around $3.20/gal, and diesel is around $3.40. That means that driving a truck around is getting pretty expensive, figure a dollar a mile for where ever you're going, round trip. Wow, a trip to Seattle, just for fuel, is around $2,000.............. Wow............
Oh, yeah, the ground hog. Since he's under snow, he's unlikely to see a shadow. So, why should he be scared of it, and go back inside. If I was the ground hog, I'd be digging a tunnel through the snow looking for some frozen greenery to eat. So, I'm guessing, the ground hog prediction will be early spring.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
One of my first lessons
That first fall, back in 1988, I drove Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. I started as early as I got it together to show up, and I had to park it at 10 am.
There was a regular ride that went out of De Forest at around 5 am. They'd read it off, and take bids like normal, then say, the same guy was up, every day.
I tried hanging in the north, I tried hanging by the end of the airport runway. Not even close. What was going on?
They'd lied to me when they hired me, and when I was trained. They told me that sitting on time calls wasn't allowed. Sitting on a time call, what's that? Joe Blow has a regular ride at so and so a time, and it's a big money ride. So, you go and wait for it. 1/2 hour, 45 minutes, what ever it takes, as long as it's worth it. It's done in all cab environments, dispatching or no dispatching.
It was my first serious exposure to the lying and cheating that is the norm in the business. Eventually, I was there when Mader showed up one morning. Nobody was happy about it. But it stopped being his personal shift starter. 3 days a week, it became my shift starter, most of the time. How early did I have to go there? About an hour early. Coffee and the Wall Street Journal became the start of 3 shifts a week.
There was a regular ride that went out of De Forest at around 5 am. They'd read it off, and take bids like normal, then say, the same guy was up, every day.
I tried hanging in the north, I tried hanging by the end of the airport runway. Not even close. What was going on?
They'd lied to me when they hired me, and when I was trained. They told me that sitting on time calls wasn't allowed. Sitting on a time call, what's that? Joe Blow has a regular ride at so and so a time, and it's a big money ride. So, you go and wait for it. 1/2 hour, 45 minutes, what ever it takes, as long as it's worth it. It's done in all cab environments, dispatching or no dispatching.
It was my first serious exposure to the lying and cheating that is the norm in the business. Eventually, I was there when Mader showed up one morning. Nobody was happy about it. But it stopped being his personal shift starter. 3 days a week, it became my shift starter, most of the time. How early did I have to go there? About an hour early. Coffee and the Wall Street Journal became the start of 3 shifts a week.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
parlay card
When I started driving, I saw something I'd never seen before. Parlay cards. Perhaps I'd led a sheltered life.
They had them in the office. I don't recall any drivers being interested in them, only the dispatchers and non management office people. I don't recall when they faded out of the picture, it was many years ago.
I mentioned them to a friend, and he smiled broadly. Then came the story of a 7 team parlay he almost made, 6 of his teams won. He'd prefaced his comments by saying he'd never been interested in gambling. I guess it's not gambling when it's a couple of bucks, kind of like a state lottery ticket.
Only, I know a plain working stiff who buy's at least $60/weeks worth of scratch off tickets. Sometimes more. Sure he wins a few, but I'm sure he has a net loss of $2,000/year, minimum. That's actually a lot of money. At least as much as the sales tax he pays.
What I wonder is, which one of them was running the parlay cards? And, when he finally couldn't pay for it, what happened to the guy who screwed the whole deal up? And, did the parlay cards simply move over to the bar (that goes un named) where they all play pool tournaments a couple of evenings a week.
Hmmmm, would that fellow allow them to be run out of his bar.............. I'm pretty sure I know how he'd handle it, he'd tell the first person he saw selling them, it was the last time he was going to see one, or the last time he'd see that guy, which ever came first. He'd accept that they were being passed there, but passed not seen.
They had them in the office. I don't recall any drivers being interested in them, only the dispatchers and non management office people. I don't recall when they faded out of the picture, it was many years ago.
I mentioned them to a friend, and he smiled broadly. Then came the story of a 7 team parlay he almost made, 6 of his teams won. He'd prefaced his comments by saying he'd never been interested in gambling. I guess it's not gambling when it's a couple of bucks, kind of like a state lottery ticket.
Only, I know a plain working stiff who buy's at least $60/weeks worth of scratch off tickets. Sometimes more. Sure he wins a few, but I'm sure he has a net loss of $2,000/year, minimum. That's actually a lot of money. At least as much as the sales tax he pays.
What I wonder is, which one of them was running the parlay cards? And, when he finally couldn't pay for it, what happened to the guy who screwed the whole deal up? And, did the parlay cards simply move over to the bar (that goes un named) where they all play pool tournaments a couple of evenings a week.
Hmmmm, would that fellow allow them to be run out of his bar.............. I'm pretty sure I know how he'd handle it, he'd tell the first person he saw selling them, it was the last time he was going to see one, or the last time he'd see that guy, which ever came first. He'd accept that they were being passed there, but passed not seen.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Fear and cowardice
Fast Eddie has said that if he was going to get in a bar fight and he was only allowed to bring one friend, he'd want to bring me. It's a joke, of course.
A well trained cop can tell you that some people appear very calm when they're terrified. Most people act normal, and appear terrified. I think this quality of appearing calm is a liability. Most people think you're not afraid, and when it's men, often what's going through their mind is, "Well who do you think you are? Billy Bad-ass?" Then they posture and act as if you are Billy Bad-ass. They usually don't take a shot at you because they know they're not real good, and that makes them more dangerous. They're standing there looking for a cheap shot to take, a preemptive cheap shot, and if they get the chance, they might panic and actually take it.
How do I know all about this? That should be obvious. In case it's not, allow me to share a traffic accident I was in in Oklahoma a few years back.
My log book was so far behind that bringing it up to legal was hopelessly out of the question. Some how, a white Cadillac had gotten in front of my truck, and I was pushing it down US69 sideways, at 65 mph. When I realized it was there, I took my foot off the accelerator and let everything coast to a stop. As I jumped down off the ladder (cab over), the fellow who'd been driving the car was getting out of the passenger door of his caddie. He was visibly shaking. We asked each other at the same moment if we were all right, and both answered that we were.
Imagine that. A car, semi truck collision, that happens at 65 miles per hour, and not only does nobody get hurt, but both vehicles are drivable. Simply amazing! I knew I was going to jail, and when I took my foot off the accelerator, I looked at the dog and told him I was going to jail and he was going to the pound.
When the cops and the TV cameras arrived, they asked me if I wanted to sit in the back of the squad car. That was when that cop knew he was dealing with one of the strange people who look absolutely calm when everything has gone crazy. I calmly told the cop that I was as upset as I ever get, and asked him if he'd let me sit with my dog in the truck. He said, "Ok."
To the cop and all the other people standing around that accident site, the driver of the truck appeared as if nothing had happened. The cop knew better. The cop knew I was as terrified as the guy who'd been in the car. The TV news people were probably more interested in film of the vehicles. Talking to the guy in the car was normal to them, he was visibly terrified. He'd been sitting in a car with the head lamp of a semi truck on the other side of his drivers window, riding down the highway sideways. He was shaking.
I was up in the cab of that truck in an instant. I knew at that point they weren't going to ask for that hopeless logbook, and I wasn't going to jail. It was an unforgettable moment, if ever I had one.
The truth is, I accepted that I was a coward when I was real young, probably in elementary school, but for sure before I finished junior high. Being a coward shaped every life decision I ever made. And make no mistake, children start making life decisions pretty young. Think about it. When did you make your first life decision.
Am I still a coward? Of course. Being a jock in school when I was a teenager might have given me skills, but I probably would have been even better at figure skating. As an adult, people confuse aquired skill with courage.
A well trained cop can tell you that some people appear very calm when they're terrified. Most people act normal, and appear terrified. I think this quality of appearing calm is a liability. Most people think you're not afraid, and when it's men, often what's going through their mind is, "Well who do you think you are? Billy Bad-ass?" Then they posture and act as if you are Billy Bad-ass. They usually don't take a shot at you because they know they're not real good, and that makes them more dangerous. They're standing there looking for a cheap shot to take, a preemptive cheap shot, and if they get the chance, they might panic and actually take it.
How do I know all about this? That should be obvious. In case it's not, allow me to share a traffic accident I was in in Oklahoma a few years back.
My log book was so far behind that bringing it up to legal was hopelessly out of the question. Some how, a white Cadillac had gotten in front of my truck, and I was pushing it down US69 sideways, at 65 mph. When I realized it was there, I took my foot off the accelerator and let everything coast to a stop. As I jumped down off the ladder (cab over), the fellow who'd been driving the car was getting out of the passenger door of his caddie. He was visibly shaking. We asked each other at the same moment if we were all right, and both answered that we were.
Imagine that. A car, semi truck collision, that happens at 65 miles per hour, and not only does nobody get hurt, but both vehicles are drivable. Simply amazing! I knew I was going to jail, and when I took my foot off the accelerator, I looked at the dog and told him I was going to jail and he was going to the pound.
When the cops and the TV cameras arrived, they asked me if I wanted to sit in the back of the squad car. That was when that cop knew he was dealing with one of the strange people who look absolutely calm when everything has gone crazy. I calmly told the cop that I was as upset as I ever get, and asked him if he'd let me sit with my dog in the truck. He said, "Ok."
To the cop and all the other people standing around that accident site, the driver of the truck appeared as if nothing had happened. The cop knew better. The cop knew I was as terrified as the guy who'd been in the car. The TV news people were probably more interested in film of the vehicles. Talking to the guy in the car was normal to them, he was visibly terrified. He'd been sitting in a car with the head lamp of a semi truck on the other side of his drivers window, riding down the highway sideways. He was shaking.
I was up in the cab of that truck in an instant. I knew at that point they weren't going to ask for that hopeless logbook, and I wasn't going to jail. It was an unforgettable moment, if ever I had one.
The truth is, I accepted that I was a coward when I was real young, probably in elementary school, but for sure before I finished junior high. Being a coward shaped every life decision I ever made. And make no mistake, children start making life decisions pretty young. Think about it. When did you make your first life decision.
Am I still a coward? Of course. Being a jock in school when I was a teenager might have given me skills, but I probably would have been even better at figure skating. As an adult, people confuse aquired skill with courage.
Ex cons and criminals
We constantly see statistics about prison populations, courts, and crime. How many ex-cons do you know? In my little world, there is only one, he's a guy I only ever met once, and so far I like him.
A guy I don't count, who I've run into many times, is in a county jail for back child support. His son is 27 now. He was unemployed anyway, his living conditions were primitive, and he may well be much more comfortable in that county jail cell. An unemployed dead beat doesn't qualify as a criminal, does he? I mean, if he was a real criminal he'd have money and pay his bills. Right?
A fellow who won't exit my memory, is a kid I didn't meet driving cab. His name was Creston. He helped me move a neighbor of his. Very nice kid. He worked hard. When we finished, I paid him the pay any other man would expect for such a days work.
I ran into his former neighbor in the grocery a few months later, and asked about him. She said he was in the county jail, awaiting trial for some kind of robbery charge. She said, he and some other kids of the same ethnic background had gone out and held up a couple of white college students one night. She said his mom was letting him rot in the county jail awaiting trial.
This woman went on to say that Creston's mother had confiscated the money I'd paid him. His mother was supposedly angry that I'd allowed her son to have money, his own hard earned cash. His mother just happened to be a student at the U at the time too. Her major? Criminal Justice. Her educational track? Pre law.
Well, Creston's mother, did that money spend good at the mall? Did you think, even once, about the future of your son? Or, is it the case that you're guiding his career intentionally?
Just a question.
I'll try to write the post I had in mind tomorrow.
A guy I don't count, who I've run into many times, is in a county jail for back child support. His son is 27 now. He was unemployed anyway, his living conditions were primitive, and he may well be much more comfortable in that county jail cell. An unemployed dead beat doesn't qualify as a criminal, does he? I mean, if he was a real criminal he'd have money and pay his bills. Right?
A fellow who won't exit my memory, is a kid I didn't meet driving cab. His name was Creston. He helped me move a neighbor of his. Very nice kid. He worked hard. When we finished, I paid him the pay any other man would expect for such a days work.
I ran into his former neighbor in the grocery a few months later, and asked about him. She said he was in the county jail, awaiting trial for some kind of robbery charge. She said, he and some other kids of the same ethnic background had gone out and held up a couple of white college students one night. She said his mom was letting him rot in the county jail awaiting trial.
This woman went on to say that Creston's mother had confiscated the money I'd paid him. His mother was supposedly angry that I'd allowed her son to have money, his own hard earned cash. His mother just happened to be a student at the U at the time too. Her major? Criminal Justice. Her educational track? Pre law.
Well, Creston's mother, did that money spend good at the mall? Did you think, even once, about the future of your son? Or, is it the case that you're guiding his career intentionally?
Just a question.
I'll try to write the post I had in mind tomorrow.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Never go to a funeral early
Fast Eddie told me 3:00 pm. I think I showed up around 10 to 3, but wasn't looking at the clock. I was the first cab driver. Only the intimate family had arrived earlier. Funerals are for the living. I shook Doug's sister's hand and told her I was a cab driver. As I write this, I wonder if she'll remember me of the cab drivers. I didn't see any of the others say hello to her . Only Christine asked about the family, and actually she only asked among the drivers if anyone knew which person was Doug's girlfriend. Perhaps Doug's sister will associate me with the drivers. Doesn't matter. I don't care.
Doug was a night driver. It's an odd brotherhood. You'd have to be one to understand.
They had a bunch of photo's, Doug looked like his mom, and his sister looked like his father. Doug in general looked like he came from Rockford. Rockford? Yes, he really did come from Rockford. Back in the '90's I did quite a bit of business in Rockford, and more than a few people in Rockford look a bit like Doug, or should I say Doug looked like them. I'm betting his mom comes from an old, old family. I always thought Doug was a good looking man. His mom was probably a looker when she was young.
It was hard to be alone at the funeral parlor. I got up and walked around a couple of times. When Fast Eddie arrived, it got much easier. I'm thinking a dozen to 15 drivers showed up, and all 4 cab companies were represented.
When Eddie and I sat back down, there was a guy about 4 chairs to my right that I didn't recognize at all. He was one of the day dispatchers from my first weeks driving, and he still dispatches. He's a daytime only person, so I hadn't run into him at work in years and years. When he said something, that voice rang clear as a bell, I knew who it was. He's never gained a pound. He was well dressed, could have passed for a business man. It's odd that a little of his hair is really dark, and the rest is gray. It's still curly, he still has it all, still wears it the same way, but neither he nor his hair look right. That hair was and should be very red in my mind. His comment was that he's glad he still has it. I know exactly what he means.
It took me until about the middle of the service to figure out that the little wooden box up at the front of the room was Doug. His guitar was next to it. In the presentation, they showed photo's of his dog, and said he and his dog were reunited. Hmmm. Dogless............. The depression when you lose a dog you're really close to is bad. Have I ever recovered from the loss of my first dog? Probably not.
They showed photo's of places he loved. Doug and I had the same taste. Perhaps that's why I got along with him. I haven't visited Devil's Lake in years, but when I lived in Baraboo , I went there all the time. I started to say I took my dog there too, but I don't know about that. It's a state park, and I remember climbing those rocks. Would Petie have climbed those rocks with me? Probably not. I do remember the artesian well at the dog park in Baraboo. We went doggin there a lot. It was really had to look at the photo of Doug's dog. Harder than it was to look at his photo. I don't like to think about losing the dog I have now to old age.
Which brings me back to depression. It was the dead of winter, and the middle of the first real serious cold snap. The winter money for a night driver is good, but sometimes you don't see much of the light of day. They say he went home from work, and died. He was only 52. Nobody found him for 3 days. Nobody had any reason to think it was anything other than, he just died. A blood clot in his brain perhaps. A friend who used to be an EMT said he'd picked up a 3 day dead body once or twice. The kind of body you'd just about have to burn. Well, it doesn't matter now. But I wonder.
When the service was over, I stood and walked away from the cab drivers section. Went straight up to the front of the room, where the little box was, next to his guitar. I placed my hand on the box, about like you'd put your hand on the shoulder of an old friend, and said, "Good bye Doug." Then straight outside. I said good bye to no one. When I was a kid, my grandmother had to spend 45 minutes socializing after church, every time. That was quality time, when I could have been fishing. That's why it's something I never do.
Good bye Doug. You now know, or for an instant knew, the answer to the eternal question. I wish I'd gotten to know you better when the opportunity was available. I will miss that smile.
Doug was a night driver. It's an odd brotherhood. You'd have to be one to understand.
They had a bunch of photo's, Doug looked like his mom, and his sister looked like his father. Doug in general looked like he came from Rockford. Rockford? Yes, he really did come from Rockford. Back in the '90's I did quite a bit of business in Rockford, and more than a few people in Rockford look a bit like Doug, or should I say Doug looked like them. I'm betting his mom comes from an old, old family. I always thought Doug was a good looking man. His mom was probably a looker when she was young.
It was hard to be alone at the funeral parlor. I got up and walked around a couple of times. When Fast Eddie arrived, it got much easier. I'm thinking a dozen to 15 drivers showed up, and all 4 cab companies were represented.
When Eddie and I sat back down, there was a guy about 4 chairs to my right that I didn't recognize at all. He was one of the day dispatchers from my first weeks driving, and he still dispatches. He's a daytime only person, so I hadn't run into him at work in years and years. When he said something, that voice rang clear as a bell, I knew who it was. He's never gained a pound. He was well dressed, could have passed for a business man. It's odd that a little of his hair is really dark, and the rest is gray. It's still curly, he still has it all, still wears it the same way, but neither he nor his hair look right. That hair was and should be very red in my mind. His comment was that he's glad he still has it. I know exactly what he means.
It took me until about the middle of the service to figure out that the little wooden box up at the front of the room was Doug. His guitar was next to it. In the presentation, they showed photo's of his dog, and said he and his dog were reunited. Hmmm. Dogless............. The depression when you lose a dog you're really close to is bad. Have I ever recovered from the loss of my first dog? Probably not.
They showed photo's of places he loved. Doug and I had the same taste. Perhaps that's why I got along with him. I haven't visited Devil's Lake in years, but when I lived in Baraboo , I went there all the time. I started to say I took my dog there too, but I don't know about that. It's a state park, and I remember climbing those rocks. Would Petie have climbed those rocks with me? Probably not. I do remember the artesian well at the dog park in Baraboo. We went doggin there a lot. It was really had to look at the photo of Doug's dog. Harder than it was to look at his photo. I don't like to think about losing the dog I have now to old age.
Which brings me back to depression. It was the dead of winter, and the middle of the first real serious cold snap. The winter money for a night driver is good, but sometimes you don't see much of the light of day. They say he went home from work, and died. He was only 52. Nobody found him for 3 days. Nobody had any reason to think it was anything other than, he just died. A blood clot in his brain perhaps. A friend who used to be an EMT said he'd picked up a 3 day dead body once or twice. The kind of body you'd just about have to burn. Well, it doesn't matter now. But I wonder.
When the service was over, I stood and walked away from the cab drivers section. Went straight up to the front of the room, where the little box was, next to his guitar. I placed my hand on the box, about like you'd put your hand on the shoulder of an old friend, and said, "Good bye Doug." Then straight outside. I said good bye to no one. When I was a kid, my grandmother had to spend 45 minutes socializing after church, every time. That was quality time, when I could have been fishing. That's why it's something I never do.
Good bye Doug. You now know, or for an instant knew, the answer to the eternal question. I wish I'd gotten to know you better when the opportunity was available. I will miss that smile.
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