Aug. 03, 2002 - 22:43 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Guilty As Charged

I read Joan's inspiring words today that she posted to a yahoogroup. "How do you know you're a writer through and through, and there's just no escaping it ? With every event no matter how sh*tty, your first thought is 'Well, at least its something to write about."

So what did I do ? It wasn't sh*tty, well maybe a little at the time, but funny at the end, however I slipped in a clause to her remark tonight that said I can go retroactive.

Quite few years ago when I was some younger and a lot dumber and working fifteen miles away from home, it was April in Florida and warm, my birthday of course. Now, the stage is set and all but lit.

Heather had decided that this kid (me) would come home to his birthday party right after work. I even took a clean shirt and pants with me to change into. After work I oozed out to our car and set course for home. Nice breeze coming in the window and having a pleasant time in sight, the motor decided it needed gasoline and refused to make another rev.

Aaaargh ! . . . looked out and saw I was halfway home, just a little closer to work than home. I grabbed the gas can out of the back, stood beside the road hoping for a ride. Hoped for awhile and then started walking to a gas station nearest my work.

The road, usually busy was empty and stayed so. By then my collar was scorched by the steam coming off my temper. Filled the gas can and set out to walk back to the car. A co-worker friend of mine pulled into the station to gas up and by twisting my arm and giving me the third degree -- rubber hose and all got my silly story. He said, "I'm going to Tampa and will drop you off at your car. I'll stay until I hear your motor running and like a 'herd of turtles' (Spoonerized) I'll take off." He did and I did when the tank had gas and the motor began to hum I moved on.

I am late to my own birthday party, sweaty, dusty and tired from my 7 mile walk and frustrated to the very gills. I was ready to relate my sad saga when I got to the party, hadn't practised the words yet but knew the gist of it.

Entered into a house full of friends who were having a good time without me, to be approached by a distraught Heather, her words ? Despite my shopworn appearance she said, "Where the heck have you been ?" I was about to say, "I'm not sure, but I thinking of going back there," but having a quick think I said in a weary voice, "I ran out of gas, got any punch ?"

The party was fun and I was happy and my thirst quenched, surrounded by my family and friends. Ice cream and cake after a few presents were opened. The party wound down, folks departed. Later we put the kids to bed and sat watching TV. I looked over at Heather and asked, "Why did you tell me that I had enough gas to make it to and from work ?"

The rest of that story is anticlimax and boring, no blood or tears were shed. If I had been writing a paper diary back then, the pages would probably have burned. But it did make a good story at gatherings later.

So, at least it is, "Something to write about," retroactively, an event which happened a generation or two ago. You say I am cheating ? Not really, well maybe, don't claim to be a writer, a diarist maybe yes. Hee hee hee

Guilty As Charged . . . . . . . . . .

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