Memorials and the Day

I had a morning meditation today, you know, Jesus and Buddha and one-page-a-day and that kind of thing. But at sunrise I decided, this time, to read Who in the Hell is Tom Jones? Out of a book of poems by Charles Bukowski. It made me laugh out loud and I think that is a fine beginning to any day. I can’t reprint it here because

- it’s copyrighted
- it has a lot of really bad words in it.

If you have been around the block of life a couple times you will instantly understand it, and if you haven’t you will run to your church waving your bible in the air and say prayers for me. Either one is fine. And you can look it up yourself in LOVE IS A DOG FROM HELL. If you are not afraid.

Years ago when I worked for the Police Department I used to walk up a trail through the woods behind the Police Academy and come out in a little clearing where there was a cemetery that all the unidentified people were buried in. Potter’s Field. It was a nice place to eat lunch because few people even knew it was there. And I would say Hi to all the spirits of the old guys who fell dead out of boxcars on trains from Toledo. Known only to God, and like that.

My friend and I went there a couple days ago for Memorial Day because we thought it was the right thing to do. All those people had a life or half of one or a really bad one, but it’s my job to give tribute to the fact that they lived here and not to judge. It’s officially called Westmont Cemetery and is surrounded by Monday Prison, the Police Academy and the Sewage Treatment Plant. Which says something about it’s importance. And the Police too probably. But I think the cemetery was there first. I still think it’s a nice place to be buried. And there are woodpeckers and red-winged blackbirds.

I thought about Dad a lot on Memorial Day and I’m glad he made it home from the wars so I could get to know him. He was a fine guy and a fine Dad!

Speaking of Memorial Day, I got a flyer for my high school class’ 48th reunion and a full third if not half of my classmates are dead. One got murdered in 1967 and I don’t know about the rest. Holy Toledo and RIP! Now I am going to scrub my kitchen with steel wool and sulfuric acid to make sure there are no typhoid germs laying around. And I am not going to the party.

I am getting ready to pay the remainder of my money to the IRS, Compunet Labs and a dermatologist. The usual bills are already paid and I will still have some dollahs that them folks don’t know about that I am gong to spend on play. Ta!