White clouds in the yard

Light rain -- another gray morning except for the glorious peony by the stone steps. Blossoms as big as cabbages, too heavy to stand up. The enchantress bows near the end of her run. We strolled through fields all wet with rain and back along the lane again. Early summer and this old world is indeed young again. I listen to the jays and crows argue over elbow room in their piney home. Birds of a feather.

Just like humans. Finding fault with those who most resemble us.

Cholly and Rose go by in her Chrysler Sebring, surrounded by debt. Their heads are barely above water. But they are waving, not drowning. Cholly says, “We made our share of mistakes, buyin when we shoulda sold and sellin when we shoulda bought. How were we supposed to know? But we got our health and at least one of us still has a job. We don’t need a lot to live on, we’ll make it. Others around here I don’t know. How you doin?”

“Been networking some in the city. We had our big book industry convention last weekend. Lots of folks looking for jobs. But I’m lucky -- I’ve got a consulting gig to keep me in the game. And so many friends. I’ll be fine. Right now, the garden and the writing are keeping me busy. When everyone’s confused, sometimes it’s best to hunker down for a while. It’s easier to get a toehold on the future if you know where things stand.”

“You got that right -- and ‘confused’ is the right word for it. You don’t know what to do except keep on keeping on.”

Rose is softly singing along with the car radio. Under the boardwalk we’ll be havin some fun. “We gotta go. The car needs some work and we don’t know if the dealer is gonna be around much longer. I’m just thankful the government is backing these warranties. First time I’ve thanked the feds for anything. Take care of yourself and good luck.”

I remember when Quist said, “It’s the little guy who gets hosed when times get tough. You hear these big-shots with million dollar salaries blame the unions for everything. Bah! -- they’re pigs. The unions made it possible for the little guy to live well. Sure, then they got corrupted, just like all human institutions, even the Church. But these companies didn’t fail because of the workers on the line. They did it to themselves.”

Maybe the technology is just played out. The chariot. The ox-cart. The stagecoach. The horseless carriage. The effin smart car. You call that progress? I thought to myself, hell I used to own a Fiat. It didn’t go too far but it had creamy leather seats. Here I am standin with nothin but rubber heels. Hey, poot, beauty like that can’t last, can it?