"Okay. Everybody choose up sides!"
R.B. yelled,
And all the big, athletic kids huddled 'round him.
No matter what the game,
Those of us who weren't as strong or fast,
Or cool,
Would be trounced
And then denounced.
Roundly.
He was always outside,
R.B. was.
It was, for him, a better place to be.
He was the leader of the neighborhood pack;
And nice enough,
But only if it suited him.
A compliment sent his way meant
He smiled
And didn't get riled
At you,
At least that day.
He came by it naturally,
R.B. did.
His dad, straight black hair always
Pomaded perfect back, and a smile
Showing white
Would have made the moms all flutter,
Except they knew.
Knew that his wife
Rachel wasn't wailing
For her lost kids,
But, in whispers said,
He beat her.
One July day in Mabry's backyard
I stood.
Basketball in hand I yelled
"Watch me put it in from here, R.B.!"
"All the money in the world
Says you won't, pipsqueak!
All the money in the world!"
From back by the apple tree
It arced from half-a-court away,
Never touched the rusted orange rim
Nailed to the house's upper deck,
But whooshed straight through,
Slowed only slightly by the net.
"You owe me, R.B.! All the money in
The world!"
Stomping off, he sneered over his shoulder.
"No deal! You cheated, loser!"
The next day, when
We chose up sides,
All the kids had heard from him that
I had.
Somehow.
And they believed him:
So that on this day, maybe
He'd choose them.
Perhaps it was just another attack of
My asthma.
It often flared with basketball's
Stutter-step, lying-with-your-body movements.
Or, less likely, a sort of
Wisdom.
Either way
I sat out the games that day
Breathless
At the mystery of
Childhood's strange
Politics.
"Well, here's another fine mess you've
gotten us into!"
Quick!
You'd better take over
the controls! No, not those to the right!
Use the ones below by
clicking on the images.
"This is an outrage! Who's responsible for cooking up this mess?"
"Dunno, but my guess would be the guy over there on the right.
Why not click on him and find out what he thinks this mess is about?
This Just In Here are the latest additions to this ever-expanding-but-altogether-fine mess!
OUR "FLOG" A "blog" in which we, redundantly, enter the fray and further beat to death some poor steed others may have already reductio ad absurded to the point where nary a quark remains. WARNING:
ALSO CONTAINS ABSURD NONSENSE. You're welcome.
"To Everything There Is A Season" is a four-panel wall quilt by fibre artist Ree Nancarrow. It hangs in the Bassett Army Hospital Chapel, Ft.Wainwright, in Fairbanks, Alaska.www.reenancarrow.com
SEASONINGS REFLECTIONS ON THE CHRISTIAN YEAR, SATIRICAL AND OTHERWISE
SO MANY BOOKS Within this collection, we hope
you'll find some that appeal.
PHOTOGRAPHY A Way To Enjoy The Sacred In The Ordinary
"All nature sings,
And 'round me rings,
The music of the spheres."
