Category Archives: Little Stories

The Joy of Knowing Buddy

Buddha and I were having a beer. Actually he ordered a hard cider. Before he invited me out to the bar, I had always thought Buddha didn’t partake. Come to think of it I never pictured him doing much more than sit on his ass with a big grin on his face. After a few ciders, I clued into the cause of his happiness.

We lived in the same neighborhood. We first met at Max and Cherry’s Laundromat and Gift Shoppe. We were folding clothes at adjacent tables. He was buttoning up a Hawaiian shirt when a long sigh left his mouth. I looked at him and he caught my eye. He smiled and nodded toward the shirt. Just remembering, he said. Have you been?

Maui, I replied. I swam with a sea turtle.

Buddha chuckled. They sure do stick their necks out when they want something.

When he first introduced himself, I misunderstood and thought he said, Buddy.

Hi Buddy,” I said, shaking his chubby hand. My name is Mark.

He mumbled something I couldn’t make out, but before I could ask him to say it again, Cherry appeared. She was behind my new friend and could barely touch her fingers as her arms wrapped around his belly.

It’s so good to see you, she said.

She extended her hand toward me. Hi, I’m Cherry.

I shook her hand but in the process brushed my fingers against Buddy’s belly. I remember thinking it was simultaneously as hard as a turtle shell and as soft as a cumulus cloud.

I am Mark, I said. Continue reading The Joy of Knowing Buddy

Zombie-like at Wally World

I walked around Wal-Mart the other day. From one end to the other. I bought stuff and almost bought other stuff.

I asked a staff person where something was. She pointed. “Over there past the George Foremans, next to the computer stuff.”

Perhaps I looked dazed. She added, “Yeh I know. No matter where you are, what you want is somewhere else.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I chuckled.

I looked at my options, compared prices and finally placed my selection in the cart. I wove my way to the long bank of check out lanes, hearing “Welcome to Wal-Mart” in the distance.

I waited in line zombie-like, said “no-thank you” to the cashier who asked me a question that I really didn’t hear. I slipped my credit card in the money-taker contraption and walked off into the dusk, once again having no idea where I parked my car. But I saved three bucks, and when I finally found my car, I had to just sit there for a few minutes, the engine humming.

Then I drove home and didn’t realize until I walked through the door, I didn’t get what I went there for.

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth IS Dot Com

I have always been curious.

When someone tells you to put your money where your mouth is, just how much money should one put there?

I mean, you don’t want look cheap and noncommittal, but shove too much cash in there and you’ll be accused of grandstanding or ridiculed for paying too much for walking the talk, which is really what putting your money where you mouth means, and vice versa of course.

I wish there were a website to help me.

I did look upputyourmoneywhereyourmouthiscom.com but there is nothing there, but I checked at GoDaddy. Someone actually owns that domain.

I wonder if the fact they haven’t done anything with it says something about their character. Or if they are just waiting for the day they actually can express the right denomination for integrity.

Sometimesijustliketospeculateaboutstupidstuff.com

Anti-Terrorist Terrorism

I know a few people who, sadly, hate Muslims because some Muslims have committed crimes, terrorism, and are guilty of racism and intolerance for others. Of course I find such racism disgusting and in itself intolerable. The same logic should hold, shouldn’t it, that Christians are terrorists, as our Jews, for the hateful things some of them have done to humankind.

I made the mistake of trying to talk sense to one person who is dead set against taking in Syrian refugees because they will destroy Canada, harm our “Christian values,” and take over “our” country.

Again, I made the mistake of asking if they understood then how their Christian fore-fathers and fore-mothers were guilty of trying to decimate Aboriginal culture and spirituality. I asked if they felt remorse for our government (which represents all of us) stealing Aboriginal children from their homes and locking them up in residential schools and subjecting them to beatings, rape, and torture.

The look I received was one of disgust. “I am tired of hearing about how the Indians have it so bad. They get free education, don’t they? It’s time they got over all of this. It was a long time ago.”

If these are Christian values, which I realize they are not, but if this is what some people “do” with their Christian values, I suggest we give them as much free education as is necessary to end their racism and hatred.

The reality is that some human beings are terrorists. Hatred comes in all colours and from all religions, but thankfully from very few.

But when we cast one race, or believers in a religion, as terrorists because a few among them commit atrocities, then we who have such opinions afflict our own version of terror on the majority of humanity who are good people.