Tag: Conversational

“Hey hey hey, close the dvd case,” Leslie said.

“I did,” Sean said as he yanked the case away from his sister, “Don’t tell me what to do or I’m telling dad.”

“You didn’t do it right.  I don’t want you to ruin Mom’s DVD.”

“I’m not going to! Why don’t you just work on losing the 12 lbs that you gained after leaving fat camp!”

“Oh Sean, I just want to box your ears,” she said as she started to pout.

“Box my ears, you really scare me Les. Shut up or I’m telling your boyfriend that you wear falsies.”

“I don’t, you just need to stop looking at me that way,” Leslie said as she flipped her blonde hair out her face.  “I’m still a virgin.”

“Yeah, and Osama Bin Laden is still hiding in a cave in Afghanastan.”

“He is Sean, Jeremy told me that his brother’s best friend told him that we never buried Bin laden but we buried an imposter that you could only tell the difference by looking at the mole on his ass.”

“Leslie, there are times that I wonder why mom had to hook up with her gym teacher.”

“I look like Dad and you know it.”

“If Dad’s IQ was 170 points lower. The only think that makes you look like him is your mouth and anyone could have lips like yours with enough botox.”

“Whatever, jerk.”

As he watched his sister walk away in her pink pants and white blouse Sean realized that Leslie did look like their father but he would never admit it to her.  It was too much fun messing with her and making her think that she was her late mother’s gym instructor.

He looked at the DVD case that had broken spine from the time opening and closing the various times.  Thank goodness his father had a backup copy of the video because his sister and the entire family would just look and stare for hours at her.

She had long flowing brown hair that almost came to the middle of her back , a small petite nose that almost looked out of place on her round, full face with the blue eyes that would search deep into your soul.  That was her before the chemotherapy reduced her to a bald headed, sunken eyed, well monster.

Sean never looked past the first 2 ½ hours of the DVD.  He would prefer to remember his last football game with her there, cheering him on from the ambulance. The four touchdown catches he made meant nothing.  The only memory he had from the game was when he ran over to the ambulance and handed his mother the game ball.

“You take it Sean, you’re the hero,” Sean’s eyes watered as he could remember the moment, even tasting grass in his mouth.

“But I want you to have it mom, don’t you understand?”

Sean’s eyes misted up as the team took a knee in front of his mother.

“We won this game for you,” they said in unison.

“You won it for yourselves. Each one of you has made mistakes and has paid for them.  Listen to your parents; love them even when you don’t think they deserve it.  For if your heart is in the right place and your love is eternal, you will always,” she started to cough and took a whiff from the oxygen. “win.”

She fell back onto the stretcher and the medics wheeled her away.

Every boy had a patch on their uniform for Sean’s mom.

It wasn’t her initials. That would have made her furious.

“No one person is above a team Sean,” she yelled the day he skipped practice because he didn’t feel well.

He ran bleachers, not for the coach, not for his dad (who was the assistant coach).

But for his mother, who taught him better.

As for those patches, each one of them had one word on them.

Mom.

Happy Mothers Day.

“In life you have 2 options. Either you can live in a world others have created for you. Or you can create the world that others live in,” Jeff told his best friend Allister the other evening.

“Oh really,” Allister said with a plan to dis-ravel his well thought out plan.

“Don’t you understand the pressures of this world is so tough, the expectations that we all have on each other and on ourselves is so great that if we don’t hit the goals that we are given we are labeled a loser,” Jeff continued with a gleam in his eye.

“But don’t you agree that with reality handing everyone expectations of mediocrity that we allow ourselves to be trapped in a cube of our own making.  We don’t have winners or losers when growing up anymore. We don’t let kids have to earn anything. Everything is given to them, everyone gets to run the bases and nobody is ever out. That isn’t how the real world works Jeff.”

“Allister, you are a very cynical man,” Jeff said as he started to drink his Whisky and Coke, “continue.”

“We let everyone have a trophy, we let out kids have whatever they want, the television has 500 channels and there still isn’t anything on the damn thing. We’ve gone from being a society of producers, proud of the things that would last, to a society of locusts, producing what we need to survive that moment. We’ve transformed from a country of deep thinkers to barely thinkers.”

“So, what’s the solution?”

“An EMP, remove technology and we force our kids to talk to us,” Allister said with with a smile on his face.

“Like that’s going to happen.  If we create the world that OTHERS live in, we make the choices. If you don’t like handing out trophies to the kids who couldn’t tie their shoes without a diagram and a YOUTUBE video, then don’t,” Jeff said starting to pace around the room.

“What about the pinheads that force us to live in their world? You can’t tell me that your boss Dawn lives in a perfect world. She barely gets out of bed on time and smells like cheese,” Allister countered.

“It’s a matter of mind over matter. I don’t mind because she doesn’t matter.  I live in a world where if I want to sit with others drinking, carousing and causing trouble and having fun, I can. If, however, I want to spend my time at the bar eating my steak while the world carries on without me I can,” Jeff said as he puts his weathered hands on Allister’s shoulder.

“But others force their ideas upon you.”

“Only if they let me Allister. There are some days that I just go, grab some food and watch people. I’m not forcing my world upon anyone, I let them come into my bubble only if I want them to.”

“Sounds completely looney to me Jeff.”

“Look Allister, my world is filled with continents, water, land, arguing alliances and countries just like yours.  My world has blue skies and gray days, baseball, popcorn, and Cracker Jack,” Jeff started when Allister interrupted him with “as does mine.”

“But my world, I look toward to not the cleaning of the ball park afterwords, I don’t look to the parking and the traffic.”

“You look toward the game,” Allister says quietly.

“And it doesn’t matter if I am a Lord or a peasant, all that matters is that I experience everything that is around me, taking in each sunset, each sound, everything that is around me, trying not to miss a moment.  For if I miss that magic moment, it will never be there ever again. It was never about the game, it was never about the party, it was never about those moments that everyone holds so dear to them.  It was the look on your face when you first met your wife.  It was the look on your face when she came down the aisle at your wedding. It was even the sadness when you lost your son.  The moments that we have can either be hidden or shared, rejoiced or cursed,” Jeff said as he saw a solitary tear come down Allister’s right cheek which was immediately brushed and cleaned away.

“In life you have 2 options. Either you can live in a world others have created for you. Or you can create the world that others live in. Which do you choose Allister?”

“I choose to have another drink.”

Which do you choose?