They Walk Amongst Us

 

Boot up and view these weirdo’s and whackos and hero’s and Patriots whose stories the news highlights to shock, intrigue, titillate us and wonder where did they come from.

As you bow you head in prayer at the house of whatever faith you subscribe to, take a peek around the congregation.

These are the same people you see at the Tummy Temple. They are the same folks who assemble every week in worship in hope of a better life or out of tradition. The faces look familiar but many of the names are vacant. They attend the same restaurants that you take you family to. They work in the same office building or job site that you do, but they are still strangers.

There’s Frank. Speak to him in Bible class but know nothing about him or his family. There is no familiarity of education, occupation or assimilation. A short conversation on the day’s events and a handshake are enough to get through another week without any other sharing of personal information.

I think her name is Nancy. She always sits in the same pew and always carries a white Bible. I’ve heard she is a nurse but know nothing more. Someone said she is a single mother?

Those four guys always sit together. They kid each other like a locker-room until the organ starts playing. When they do not attend, they are out in the woods dressed in camo with high fives at their slaughter killing animals while they innocently eat unaware of the firepower endangering them.

George lives in the neighborhood. He buys a new car every year. Have no idea what his occupation is, but he gets his lawn mower by a service every Tuesday. Seems like a regular guy but is carrying the weight of impregnating his neighbor’s daughter.

Sarah works the soup kitchen. Somebody has to feed the poor and she is rewarded with the feeling of doing good in this world. At night she is a pole dancer at the gentlemen’s club.

Timmy sings in the choir. He seems bored with the whole process, but it is requirement of following the adult instructions. He is a good student and participates in sports, but is more interested in dance. He’ll take his own life with his father’s gun.

Kelly has her own coffee shop. I buy a coffee and doughnut from her every morning. She hires girls who have had questionable upbringings. Her boyfriend picks her up in a Chevy Camaro muscle car with a confederate battle flag painted on the hood and playing Dixie on the horn.

Ronnie carries a gun. He has strict political opinions based on whatever he believes. Don’t mess with Ronnie.

Bonnie works at the local bakery. Always friendly to the customers while covered in white powder. She lives with her father who abuses her every night.

Tony works the frozen food section at the Tummy Temple. He is reserved but dedicated to his task. He has been missing after ICE came through.

Hillary is as pleasant as she can be. Obviously limited, she attends her formatted duties with questionable conversation response. She jogs in my neighborhood.

Mister Bondawill is on a walker. Retired from a profitable insurance agency, his only outing is to venture into the Tummy Temple on Sunday afternoons in hopes of seeing survivors to have a brief conversation over a grocery cart. He was knocked down in the parking lot by a driver on their phone.

Sally seemed outgoing and comfortable with everyone. Personable but not elite, she fit in every occasion. Attractive, but not beautiful she always had a fine-looking man on her arm. You can guess what happened to her.

Bobby was the school bully. Somewhere along the way he converted to being spiritual. He heads the Bible class and sometimes sings in the choir. He wears his mother’s underwear under his robes. He was shot in an alumni party.

These are the folks you see at the neighborhood diner. They attend the same plays and sporting events and festivals. Their kids go to the same schools and they remember the words to the songs learned in their teen years. They are accepted due to the cut of their jib and the car they drive. Other than that, they are still strangers. Fewer show up every year and there are no replacements.

While you scan the disasters of the day, you see a name that looks familiar. Is that?

They walk amongst us.

Work, without pay

 

With the current governmental shutdown, essential workers must still work without pay. Others are on furlough, a mandatory unpaid leave of absence yet still employed. A third group lay-offs or fired as a reduction-in-force are no longer on the payroll. There is talk of shuffling around other appropriations to pay the military.

The guys and gals who caused all this mess are still getting paid 6-figure salaries.

As I recall, work was to extend labor or product or service with the expectation of monetary compensation. Taking out the trash and cleaning your room maybe work for an allowance. Cutting the neighbor’s grass with a manual push mower may get you some sawbucks. Some find bartering equal rewards but doesn’t pay the rent.

When asked if I could produce some art for free because it is just drawing a picture, I’d say, “Then let your cousin do it.” When a club owner asked a band to play the weekend without taking any dollars out of the till, the exposure doesn’t pay the gas to travel, place to stay and food to eat.

Whether you feel your salary is equal to the amount of talent or effort you put in, how long can you go without? If you are an essential worker, how hard will you work without pay? How long will it take for a paycheck to show up after the shutdown is over? Will the grocer understand that you will gladly pay them next Tuesday for a hamburger today? Will your landlord be so empathetic to not have the funds to pay the property tax or water or electricity? The federal contractors who do everything from cleaning the bathrooms to providing ammunition to the armed services do when their department is shutdown? The coffee shop loses customers, the dry cleaner closes and no one is hiring.

What do tell the kids when there are no toys under the tree? Don’t need to string the lights when the power is cut off. There will be no traveling to grandma because you can’t afford the gas. Don’t expect a turkey on the table.

Back in the day, there were apprentices or interns who learned the trade without pay, before being qualified to be hired. Volunteers work for free for a variety of reasons, but somewhere, someone is the bread winner who pays the bills.

Sooner or later, the government will open up and turn on the lights and go back to doing bureaucratic stuff with whoever is left and the congress will appropriate more raises and the public will pay their taxes and all will be right with the world.

Until next time.

The Brotherhood of the White Beards

 

Yesterday, or so it seems, there was a gathering of gentlemen on an autumn day in the sunshine to converse as friends near and far. Some names are more familiar and some faces have changed but this congregation of white beards were civil due to laughter and adult beverages.

Some go back to the last century and others are links to occasional meetings. As these are all men beyond their prime, they speak of manly topics while dipping into the hummus.

As elderly do, we start with the topics that are not threatening or challenging. There are no competitions other than stand up and walk to the loo, but the sunshine kept them semi-warm in the forest.

Being manly men, they spoke of their latest purchases of mobile machines and FYI renovations for the next generations. Mild music waffled through the air of soft songs not requiring dancing. There was no talk of politics or religion or even grandchildren (though I find that rare with online comments and grandmothers). No comments were made about fashion, except for those who wore shorts on this chilly afternoon. There was no talk of previous or contemporary relationships. A few gaps were filled in with pointed questions but nothing demanding a confrontation.

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon among geezers of the Brotherhood of the White Beards.

Now the season is here for the weather to force everyone into shelter and decorate and accommodate for immediate family and friends. Gifts are bestowed and celebrations are had through the dark holidays with good food and cheer by the warm fires of memories made or remembered.

The Brotherhood of White Beards may never recure without any record of it ever happening. The names of the attendees will go unmentioned. No property or person was harmed as I could tell. The accommodations and transportation were paid in full and there was very little waste for the proprietor.

The decorations will fill the neighborhood with light and celebration while I will creep back into the woods to awake the warmth of spring and coming of the dawn.