Sol's Random Stories

Maybe I was twenty-five or so, discouraged, unemployment checks nearly run out. Job hunting all morning, getting nowhere but tired. Disappearing sounded good. It was a narrow, dark tavern on 7th Street, downtown. Two o'clock in the afternoon, working on my second boilermaker, so the rest of the day was certainly blown.  Sitting next to some guy named George, and he was laying it all out for me. The kind of deep and dopey drivel that comes with an alcohol haze. "You see, you got your humans. And, you got your hoomans. Humans are the savers, the hoomans are the destroyers. Now, humans and hoomans, they're not the same, you know, not at all.  Hoomans, they eat their own. They trust no one, not even each other. They hate the good things, and they'll kill anything for any reason or no reason. They'll take everything you have, that's the hoomans. So us humans have to get rid of every single hooman on God's good earth. Or, we don't have a prayer of a chance, r...

The very first one I had was actually plastic, thin, came with a hard rubber ball that stung my palm as I ricochet it staccato style off the apartment building. Glad to have that little glove, ignored the pain.  One day, it happened, the real deal! My father and I went to Sears, and we looked at some quality leather gloves like the Rawlings and Wilson types. My small hand felt lost in a major league glove, I could barely flex it! Well made, not cheap, it was a bit much for my father to spend at the time. But, we got the best one: a Rawlings Roberto Clemente Signature Right Field Glove. Couldn't believe my good luck going home with it on my lap.  Then, the nightly routine - mineral oiled up with a baseball in it under my mattress. Roberto Clemente, great athlete, great human being. Died a hero helping others. And, my best glove ever!

All the world of unknown smells, scents, aromas, and my stubborn dog won't trade noses for a day. Just for one day! I've begged, but it's a hard no for now. Can't blame her, human parts lacking, my human smell range a tiny fraction of hers. Perhaps, I might be careful what I'd wish for. Would it be sensory overload real fast? And, how would I ever be happy again with my limited version?

Everyone knows how yawning is contagious, but it's more true with folks we know. Not so much the guy yawning on a bus with strangers, that's ignored. When there is emotional bond or kinship, humans and our closest cousin chimps frequently share the common reflex. This brings me to an annoying game that I occasionally tease my dog with. For certain, my beloved hound does make me yawn, but it's not true the other way around. So, then I have to kind of pretend that it's mutual.  When she yawns, stretching her jaws and neck so leisurely, I'll then immediately do the same. But, I keep it going, licking my chops, twitching an ear, ducking my head down to my lap after she does. Little haha, right? But, that's when I get The Look. Clearly, the dog is not a bit amused with my crude and juvenile mimicking. Instead, she maintains a serious gaze that asks, "What are you doing, silly dad? Please be human now." My son was far easier to trick as a toddler and child. ...

My dog is also my health advisor. I have her on permanent retainer. She oversees my well-being, and I'm her only client. She's so happy to take care of me, I never need an appointment, and she's never late.  Unless there's a squirrel in the room - which is rare - I always have  100% of my advisor's attention.  Over the years, I've learned things by watching her routines. Like how she is so laser focused on her meal when eating. No multi-tasker, like scrolling the doggie reels or pawing out a text to a pal. No one eye trained to the newest bingy cringy mini-series, or I-40 cruising to Vegas while nibbling her kibble. Focused while eating, zero distractions, it's a good idea for all.  Or how she doesn't even eat and drink water together; Widgie always has her sip later. Rest time is deep and undisturbed. Then, her requisite stretching minute after her nap, another good idea for me.  Our critters normally do what is naturally best, knowledge gained  thru mi...

You didn't know, like everyone didn't know beforehand, how hard it's going to be. How bleak you'll feel at certain times when the universe makes other plans. When your daydreams aren't included. Then, you'll wonder how it all got so goddammit serious, so cutthroat, so unfriendly. It seemed to all happen over one very bad weekend, that fast. In fact, you didn't know anything could be so fast, like the rent. What? Just paid it! Oh, that was last time. But, it was only a few short weeks ago... The slow charade of childhood lulls all into that false space of sweet security, perfect cubbyhole of no big worries, no big deal responsibility. We're gleefully not in charge of ourselves, if we're lucky to have a loving family. But now, everything is a big deal. No one mentions how Alice in Wonderland then has to work like a fool to survive, no lovely fantasy about that. You didn't know, no one mentions it. The future more accurately described would scare yo...

After all, what's in a name? It's just words. Why give it much thought? It will still be defined by its attributes be it a person or a nation, so then a name is just complimentary or a contradiction. Consider our country's given name. Certainly, there were other possibilities. Such as the Common States, except that they're not. Or, the Similar States, but that's never been true. Or, the Federated States, except free people will not be centralized. Or, the Independent States, which of course lacks any mutual support. Apparently, our country's final name describes a more ideal nation as yet unrealized by the errant and unreliable cooperation between the various regions. Nonetheless, we are the imperfectly United States, the grand experiment, still discovering our own liberty.

Review time. Used to bug me. Nowadays, I moonwalk to my review. My attitudes have changed, after two decades of this process. Never had reason to be stressed, but the whole ritual just made me uncomfortable, always too glad when it was over.  It's the typical list of factors, as you can guess. Being evaluated, under the microscope, my work product assessed by group consensus, a dozen mates who I have worked with during my 6am half day shift.  I've had the good luck of great captains and mates, so again, I've had no reason to fret this thing that comes around twice a year. Somewhere along the line it sunk in that the TJ's review is not an event that needs to be amplified, overanalyzed, or dreaded.  If not actually moonwalking, I stroll to my review now with a better perspective, wanting only to keep it all fun for the reviewers, and myself.

I'll say this with certainty: my dog is the silliest dog I know. The other three dogs in our building are far more serious; they act their age.  Not my Miss Silliness. Nearly nine years old now, but we still have to twist and shout with the sweaters. We still have to cross directly in front of folks passing on the sidewalk. We still must lunge   towards everything small and moving like bugs, birds, mice, and of course, those DNA-despised squirrels she gets only in dreams. We'll never ignore the other dogs barking across the busy boulevard, or stay chill defying our Chihuahua roots, or stop sneaking something to chew when we're not looking.  My Miss Silliness, she's never too fond of training lessons, basic commands, or being polite in public. I'm always apologizing for her, and feeling like I'm just lacking the skills to improve her behavior. But, dogs must also think we're pretty silly. Like, collecting and inspecting their poop, looking into their ears, br...