From in to out of a day


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Inside of a day.

Soup on the stove bubbling.

The fire warm, outside air cold a good combination. IU on the TV. Well until the first half ended. After that it was another game, a game where I didn’t care who won or lost. The boys were upstairs doing the Dr. Who thing – meshed in the mythos of a television show that stretches back 50 years.

Friday wasn’t a good day. Everywhere reminders that what had happened 50 years ago was still real. I saw my father cry that day it is the only memory I have of November 22, 1963. Barb remembers more but she was 3 years older than me so was 5 rather than the 2 nearly 3 that I was. To be honest I remember the death of Bobby Kennedy much more. The train slowly making its way across the country. It is a scar like 11/22/1983 and 9/11/2001 as well as the loss of Apollo 1, Challenger and other space disasters. Those days come with sadness attached to them, waking you in the morning with a sense of dread and slowly filling the day with that dread.

Soup still bubbling and Dr. Who done now. We head out for a walk. Dylan loves this part of the day he has been ready for the walk since noon and it is now 4 pm. Barb heads out for Thanksgiving feast shopping and the boys and I begin the walk around the neighborhood. The boys are silent on the topic of the show Dr. Who and instead we converse on the concepts of why walks.

Soup still bubbling on the stove, now that gorgeous deep purple of Cuban Black Bean soup. The smell fills the house and wipes away the memories of the day before. Cornbread baking in the oven adds its gentle flavor to the air and then we eat.

Outside of a day.

.doc

Scott Andersen

IASA Fellow

It was a hard decision…


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“It is” she said.

For a moment we  both looked around the store. There were other people there, but they appeared not to have heard either the question or the answer.

“Your sure.” I asked my voice breaking at the end.

“Yes,” she answered. “Its on sale this week only” she finished and pointed down the aisle, two over from where she was standing “about half way down.” she finished.

I walked to where she had pointed and it was in fact there. A huge red sale sign hanging over the item with a price scrawled in magic marker across the top. It was less than I expected it to be but I still wondered if I should in fact spend the money for it. I had a garage full of items bought with the best intentions and then left in the garage, open and assembled but never used.

Perhaps as my wife suggested a yard sale?

“Like new” signs for items that were in fact new, only removed from their boxes and assembled. New in that they only contained the original mix of gasoline and oil that came direct from the factory, well came with instructions I followed carefully and then putting the item down never using it.

“Did you find it?” A voice called over the store intercom. The other shoppers heard that and looking up and around wondering if the message from above was for them.

“Yes,” I shouted loudly in the direction of the cashier who had helped me with directions.

I resumed the process of deciding.

#because

.doc

Scott Andersen

IASA Fellow