June looked up and asked me what I had to say and I said “freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose” and then I walked away intent on never turning around if I didn’t hear come back.
No one calls me Bobby, let alone McGee but if they did maybe they’d sing a song about Me and Bobby McGee.
So pour yourself a soda, pop open a beer or whatever your favorite beverage is and maybe I’ll share a story or two.
Maybe I’ll tell you about who got divorced and remarried and who thinks about it but hasn’t done it cuz he/she hasn’t been properly motivated.
But don’t ask me to do it if you are playing Joan Baez singing Let It Be cuz you’ll make my ears bleed and even worse, you’ll make Mother Mary angry.
June looks up at me and asks what I said, “I said hello June.”
I watch her eyes narrow and she says she knows that isn’t what I said.
“You can choose to use your ears or your mouth here. Or you can choose another option, assuming you really think you know what I said. Just say please.”
I flash her a smile that she recognizes as mischievous and an invitation for trouble so she stays silent.”
The calendar for the upcoming week provides incentive to find an industrial size vat of something like Everclear or perhaps open a vein and use medical equipment to speed the impact and effect.
Damn if I can’t see the look on dad’s face and or hear the echo of his disapproval of my desire so I suppose I’ll go a different direction.
Not that it matters because he is not hear to demand an accounting of my actions and if he were I would likely refuse.
“Don’t ask for advice when you are going to do whatever the hell you want anyway.”
He is right, sometimes I ask knowing I have already decided upon a particular course of action.
Somewhere in the mix of memories I hear Aunt Shirley telling me about she intentionally angered my grandfather and had to lock herself in the closet when he lost it.
Grandpa was a teenager when this happened and his version of the story was slightly different from his older sister’s, but they were close enough for me to relate.
I remember being repeatedly provoked by middle sister and taking a swing that put my fist through the door.
Wasn’t one of my greatest hits, that probably would be a different time in which I put most of my arm through an object.
The upside of doing so was I so impressed by my 20 year-old self I was no longer irritated. The downside is there are no rewards or wisdom gained by such actions.
It reminds me of recent moments in the gym where I have rediscovered my ability to throw around heavy amounts of iron.
Sometimes I smile thinking in some ways I am as strong as I have ever been and then reality hits and I recall there are no awards for such strength, not that I have been lifting for that purpose.
Later I stand in front of the mirror inspecting the almost middle age man I see there and remember the reward is the feeling I get and that I was built to take the blows.
If I had my druthers I’d take the car in the picture and go for a long ride. I’d go looking for America and write a story about the adventures I had/have.
Been putting some of those items in various spaces and places cuz one has to memorialize certain moments.
But given the calendar I have decided to hold off on the drive and instead have spent a few minutes sharpening my sword and oiling my armor.
Got some battles to fight my way through and situations that require more of a mailed fist than a friendly smile.
Not my first choice, but if you have to smash your way through so that you can engage in a friendlier conversation that is what you do.
There is always time to raise steel and to set it aside as well. We’ll see how it all plays out cuz you know freedom is just another word…
