Would you recognize my writing?

I started a piece of fiction with something like what you will see just below this.

“Dear Lady SQ,

Would you recognize my writing in the wild? If you stumbled across it in the wild, with no byline or attribution would you know my words?

If we passed each other in a dark room would you recognize my movement and form? If you bumped into me in the dead of night would you recognize my scent and touch. Would your lips recognize mine?”

Periodically I play around with it along with a half dozen other fragments of fiction I floating around the wild and woolly internet.

Thought a bit about it because a colleague told me they can always tell when I have been involved in something.

Kind of made me laugh because the description was so far removed from reality I had trouble believing they have listened to me speak.

But I still took a moment consider if their reality had more truth in it and if maybe that is how I present. Still didn’t ring true, but things happen.

Fan The Flames

My eldest was involved in something in which I felt like he was terribly mistreated. It brought out a significant degree of anger in me but I didn’t tell him that.

He was upset by it but he handled things exceptionally well and I saw no reason to share the true extent of my thoughts.

Wasn’t going to make a difference and I am proud of how he handled it. Couldn’t have done any better than he did but come close and I’ll whisper a partial confession.

“I tore a phone book in half and cursed for a solid three minutes without repeating a word.”

Happened in the garage, all by my lonesome. Those yellow pages are out of date and I was going to recycle them anyway.

Mostly took the edge off and I am pretty good about it now, but I tend to remember those who did us wrong that way so there is no surprise here.

It is unlikely there will be any further engagement between the dolts and my eldest so this should be nothing more than a story that will fade over time.

But I did drive by the bridge the trolls hide under and prepared lasers to shoot out of my eyes to go along with the fire I was prepared to breathe but didn’t have occasion to light those fireworks.

I am ok with that.

Thought a little bit about them during the Colleyville moment and how certain I am they haven’t the foggiest idea about our people. And though they never said anything that made me think they are part of that, they have made me wonder about other questionable ideas.

They have earned the karmic retribution that is most assuredly coming their way and that is far worse than anything my words could do.

On The Line

Got Lana Del Rey’s Cruel World playing for the third time now because it reminds me of something or someone and I am not sure what.

Can’t decide if I heard this as part of a soundtrack for a movie or television show but I suppose I could Google it.

Think I figured out tonight that my Great-Great Grandma Raizel and I share the same birthday, but can’t ask her. We were born a 104 years apart and she died 30 some years before I was born.

I have seen a few of her pictures and that of my Great-Great Grandfather and know a few stories. Been piecing a few more together and composing a better idea of who they were, but there are so many questions.

And when you have an imagination like mine it is easy to begin to fill in the blanks and to almost hear dialogue, to hear conversation between them and others.

Wonder if they ever considered that one day I might exist and/or how much further the line would go on for.

*****

“Abba, we need you. Got a job for you.”

I walked out of my home office, Bose headphones raised just off of my ears, sweatshirt and track pants on, smiled and waited for my daughter to fill in the blank.

“There is a dead rat onto of the barbecue. Your job is to remove it.”

“Probably died because of the cold. Not a bad idea to climb on the grill, too bad it hasn’t been used in a few weeks.  No heat at all.”

“Abba, just get rid of it. And don’t bring it inside and try to chase me or anyone else.”

I gave her one of my favorite Cheshire cat grins.

“Dad, you would totally do that.”

“Maybe, you could avoid it by one of you three handling it.”

“That’s your job.”

“Oh, look who speaks in unison. Move over, hunter-gatherer guy doing what comes naturally.”

Grabbed a couple of bags to wrap it up and walked out into the about 40 degree weather and took care of business. Got yelled at for trying to take a sip of my coffee before washing my hands.

Rolled my eyes because I didn’t touch it and then asked the kids if they remember hearing about the time I stepped into the shower and found a rat there.

“I was naked and he jumped up at me. I yelled get back foul beastie, the mohel has already visited me.”

No one appreciated it as much as I did, but I was ok with that. Wonder if the aforementioned great-great grandparents had rats in their shtetl.

Probably.

My grandather, their grandson told me that his dad had worked as a trapper in Canada for a while. Maybe he had learned some of those skills from his father.

A hundred years later I am not a trapper and haven’t a ton of training in it but I have spent more than a few nights sleeping on dirt underneath the stars.

And once upon a time I worked at a job where my title was Tripper and I was responsible for taking kids on their overnights.

Thirty some years later there are a bunch of Clevelanders, Canadians and Californians who might have a few stories from those days. Some include kayaks, bears and campfires among other things.

Would You Recognize My Writing?

I made a point to dominate and control the conversation because the other person needed to not only hear me but understand the point I was making.

Drove it home like a hammer striking a nail over and over until I felt like John Henry would be jealous of how effectively I could swing it.

Takes some doing to get me to feel the need to engage but if it has to be done there is no point in hesitating even though it is stupid to have to get to that place.

Followed up with an email because I needed it documented so that when they try to wriggle out of it I can forward it to them and other interested parties.

The forum for those words is entirely different than this one and I work on maintaining a different voice there but I wonder if it is truly different.

I wonder if it is distinct or if you would recognize my writing if it didn’t come with my signature.