Water Skiing, Not

My brother Bill was very skilled at water skiing. He could stay up for a long, long time. He once stayed up, skiing in the deep channel between Apache Lake Dam and nearly to Canyon Lake. That is a 14 mile stretch. With the boat, that was nearly 1/2 hour of steady skiing. From time to time we would travel to Puerto Penasco near Rocky Point in Mexico. This little community lies on the eastern shore of the Gulf of California. Bill was water skiing in the Gulf and was getting a little tired. He had thought about dropping into the water and end the ride. There is nothing to change your mind about quitting skiing than the appearance of a single fin through the water. Sharks tend to be solitary swimmers and the appearance of a single fin was exciting. Bill continued to ski then the appearance of numerous fins marked that location as safe. Dolphins are not solitary, but swim in groups. The appearance of several fins screamed "SAFE" to my brother. Dolphins, not only were a safe bet, but will chase off sharks. Into the water Bill went.

I have graduated.

I know, this is a little delayed, but I passed my last requirement to my degree, Associates Degree in Accounting. This is great news. I am announcing this a little late, and I hope you will forgive me. I have graduated, but I do not have my diploma, yet. You see, I have to make an appointment with a counselor, so they can double check to see if I have indeed fulfilled the requirements. Besides The Powers That Be charge $15.00 for that piece of paper. It is as if my tuition does not count for anything. Sigh It is what it is.

Procrastination

I sit at the kitchen table, attempting to study because I want to pass my course - Writing 101, and I have a lot of reading to complete. A long time, 44 years, has elapsed since my last high school English class. I enjoy reading. Patricia Cornwell, Anne McCaffrey, and J. K. Rowling each have a pull on my attention when there is something of importance to do. Even reading the classics like Jane Austin, Shakespeare and Charles Dickens will wave at me as I pass by. I have many books set aside to read, but now I have little time. My current book reading is Harry Potter. I pick up that book and read, instead of studying. In high school, I thought I wanted to read Frankenstein by Mary Shelly. I checked the book from the library; I even read a few pages. I renewed that book over 10 times and carried the book to home and back to school. I finally realized that Frankenstein’s monster was never to become a part of who I am. I did love T.H White’s, Once and Future King, a spell binding story of King Arthur. It was made into the Broadway play and Hollywood movie “Camelot.” I have L’ Mort d’ Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory to read on my Kindle. I am enchanted by the Knights of the Round Table, the ladies in waiting and the situations, and, of course, the lives of King Arthur, Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, an epic love triangle amongst the royals. I did not have a difficult time in reading that particular book and I want to read it again. Will I stop what I am doing to read that book? Probably not. Back to the subject of school. Verbs, adverbs, nouns, pronouns. Adjectives, preposition, conjunctives, not to mention interrogatives. I have a question: gerund, is that something used in a salad? I was confused in high school and my grades, though passing, showed a lack of concentration and ample confusion. Was my confusion due to my lack of interest and lack of applying myself to the task at hand? I believe my confusion was more like bringing a horse to water and trying to make it drink. I was in class but I was not thirsty enough to drink in the knowledge offered for free. Now it is different. I am paying for this class and my success or failure depends on me, alone. In a flash, I find myself up and rinsing dishes for the dishwasher. I find a counter which suddenly needs to be cleaned. Objects here and there that need to be placed in their respective, rightful places. I find myself in a spare room used for storage. I begin to pick and poke through the detritus in that space. I consider the tossing of a box and face reality. I pull myself away from the storage space and begin reading again. I make a few notes and read some short stories. The plus is the stories are short. I look at the syllabus again, and read another story. I find myself distracted, again. There is a basket of laundry in the spare room. I pull the basket out and see if anything can be resurrected. Yes. I have recently started a new job and I will need clothing. Some have some issues but I believe I can put things to right and increase my wearable wardrobe. My mind wanders outside of the house. I have some repairs to do, but they have all waited patiently for some time. I cannot afford to have them call out to me and distract me from this goal. Procrastination: the act of delaying. According to the on line Free Dictionary by Farlex, it is: To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness. Funny, I don’t feel particularly lazy. The same posting is using the definition To postpone or delay needlessly, in the second verb. Procrastination: the state of mind where we put off until later, what we should be doing now. Procrastinate. I look up the word in another source. The word procrastinate (just before procreation and after proconsul) in my dictionary. I can relate to that word. Why else would it take so long to take the courses for essentially a 2 year degree. Lord Chesterfield is quoted “Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.” I am always able to put off until tomorrow. The laundry begins to mock me, begging me to stop studying. I ignore the laundry as it has waited this long, another day or two will not make a difference. I am determined to finish this class, and will continue to follow the syllabus. That does not guarantee that I will not do a repair or two outside, in the meantime. Maimon, Elaine P, Peritz, Janice H., Yancey, Kathleen Blake. The Writer’s Resource, fourth edition. New York, NY. McGraw Hill. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary, Home and Office Edition. Merriam-Webster, Incorporated, Publishers; Springfield, Massachusetts Copyright 1995 The Free Dictionary http://www.thefreedictionary.com/procrastination 1/30/14 Brainy Quote http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/l/lordcheste163891.html 1/30/14

Ethics

I did it. I re-enrolled in college in a push to finalize my Associate's Degree in Accounting. I was 6 credits away from finishing, with two writing courses. In the interim, another class has been added. I have taken Legal Environment in Business, which also had ethics in the program. Now there is Ethics in the Workplace. I enrolled in Ethics in the Workplace for summer classes and as an online course. This course is shortened in time but with all the content of a semester within the 5 weeks of coursework. I chose online because I eliminate the 1-1/2 drive if I drove into town. I can use that time to study, instead. This is interesting in that the classmates run the gambit. The young people who on believe the Professor is passive-aggressive. Really? There is another student who currently is in Sweden, and is taking the course because it is online, and she can continue her studies even though she is home. She is very bright and her English is flawless, unlike mine. Most of the students have to take this course for their degree, but it is unknown if they will ever be in a position of power, and can do something about any ethics problems they may encounter. Me? I, too am not in power, but I know ethical behavior. I have always strived to be an ethical person. To be fair in my opinions and my actions. To not lie, cheat and steal. I will distance myself from unethical people if I can. Otherwise, I will smile and nod, smile and nod.

Missing the summertime of old.

I am pondering the things I no longer take the time to enjoy. As I get older, there are new things to do or try. I recently tried a zip line. That was an experience. Speeding down the line nearly the length of a football field. I pitied the fellows at the end of my ride. They had a lot to handle, with me whipping all over the place. But it was an awesome experience. The things I miss from childhood summers, are a little less daring. The smell of a new mown lawn. Walking barefoot in the water filled irrigation ditch. The trips to the lake, water skiing, picnic on the beach. Sun suits, peeling skin, apple cider vinegar, skinned knees, calamine lotion, rubber thongs (sandals, not underwear). Dilly bars and lemonade. Watching for Sputnik and other satellites, watching for comets in the evening. Rocketry and the carbide can. New shoes, back to school, permanent wave, new books and a new school schedule. I asked my brother what he missed. He immediately replied: Climbing to the tree fort and listening to the crystal radio he made. Listening to KTKT radio station, which at the time was rock 'n roll. Frank Kalil, the DJ who owned a camel. What do you miss?

Another shark story...

Again, the scene takes place in the Gulf of California. My brother, Bill was with us, too. We had been fishing for some time, and Bill, Mom and I were bored. Dad still trying to catch a grouper. Bill water skis, and if fairly decent at the sport, so we had the 75 foot ski rope and skis with us. My Mom barely swam; the best she did most of the time was the dog paddle. We took the time off from fishing, Because of the tides in the Gulf, a swimmer could quickly become separated from the boat and could not swim fast enough to swim back to the boat. As a precaution, we threw out the ski rope. The idea was that it would be better to swim next to the rope, and be close enough to grab the rope and then be attached to the boat. Mom and Bill took to the water. I stood lookout to watch for shark. Sharks usually swim alone. Dolphin swim in groups called pods. Several fins is a good thing. A single fin is a bad thing. I observed my Mom at the end of the ski rope and Bill was swimming about half way between the boat and our Mom. Then I saw it. A single fin. I yelled "SHARK" then turned to get the ladder out and in place on the transom of the boat. Bill, a college aged, somewhat athletic person, was nearly to the boat, as would be expected with Mom's limited ability to swim. Then as he set his hands on either side of the ladder, a hand reached up, over his shoulder and grabbed him off of the ladder. I helped Mom us and into the boat, then helped Bill in. I then turned to Mom and told her: "You aren't supposed to panic." She was aghast that she did what she did. I wish I would have seen it. I bet I would have seen her walk on water. And Mom always liked Bill best.

A Cat Named Fresca

I had a cat named Fresca that would not talk to be let out. If I were asleep, he would stare at me. Quite disconcerting to awaken and look up on the bookcase headboard, and here would be this white cat, looking down and staring at me. One morning I thought to test him and see how far he would go. I just rolled over onto my side and ignored his silent request. He jumped down and proceeded to stare at me, face to face. I rolled over on the other side. He jumped over me and again stared at me. I continued to ignore him. He then reached out with his paw and gently touched my cheek. I continued to ignore him. He then gently unsheathed his claws. I'M UP, I'M UP. I could almost hear him say, "About time."

Fresca was white. He would go out and he found "girlfriends." He had two different girls which he brought home to meet the parents, as it were. Both of these girlfriends were pure white, like him. He would come to the door to be let in, and the girls would tentatively come in and he would show them around the house. Then they laid down on the edge of the living room carpet and watch TV. Each girlfriend was always slightly nervous, and after watching for a few minutes would jump up, and they wanted out. He never brought other girls to the house, to meet the folks.

Then there was shadow. She was a stray, wild Russian Blue. Very pretty, medium gray without ticking or tabby marks. One color and no white marks. If cats could fall in love, then the relationship they had was love. Wherever they went, they were side by side. You could almost see them holding hands. That was how she was named Shadow. It was like she were the shadow of his white body.

Fresca also had another proclivity. I would catch gophers on the property. Gopher holes are bad for horses, and every now and then we would get them in the field. I would trap the gopher and give the dead rodent to Fresca. One day he came to the house. He meow'ed and trotted away. He stopped and look over his shoulder. (What's wrong Lassie. Timmy fell into the well?) It was clear he wanted me to follow him. I traipsed down into the field. He showed me fresh gopher digs. I went back to the house and got the traps and the shovel. I set the traps and left. He stayed. After some time, he came back up and did the "follow me" signal. I went down and there was a dead gopher in the trap. Now you may say this was a fluke, but he did this several times. I even got smart, and picked up the traps on the first "follow me."

One day, Dad came home and told me that Fresca was dead. He had found him in the middle of the street a quarter of a mile from our house. He had stopped and picked up the body and had the cat in the bed of his truck. I went out and opened the eyelid to look at the green eyes I knew so well. I told Dad that that cat was not Fresca. The iris of the eye was different. I felt sure that Fresca was just out catting, and even though he was missing a couple of days, he would be back soon. Dad said I was in denial, and he would bury the cat. He did not bury the cat deep enough, because dogs dug him up. I deepened the hole and reburied the cat. Two days after Dad had found Fresca dead in the street, here comes Fresca, thin and hungry. Was there any wonder there were so many white cats in the neighborhood?

Fresca came into our house with a lie, on a Friday. Dad was against bringing pets into the house. Mom came home from work, with a white kitten. She said the kitten was standing on the corner near our house, looking all confused. Mom stopped and picked up the kitten, who was quite warm despite the storm brewing. She drove him the few hundred feet to the house. She explained to Dad that here it was Friday night, Monday was a holiday (Christmas), so she would take him to the humane society on Tuesday. It only took until after dinner, that Fresca was seen, curled up in Dad's lap, with him gently petting him. He was home. The truth was that a woman at work had a Siamese cat and she had a litter of kittens. One was white. Since Siamese kittens are born white and get color as they get older, my mom took the white kitten. Of course he did not color up, because at weening, Siamese have most of their color.

Fresca, sadly, was hit by a car and killed. I think he was about nine years old. I was getting ready to go horseback riding and had called him (how many cats would come when called?) and apparently, he heard me, but did not hear the car. Who ever hit him, stopped and lifted his body to the curb, and out of traffic. I went riding and found him. I was so sad. I buried him.