Good Morning Vertebrates,
This week will be spatial - I will be using my tiny bit of the interwebrosia to work on my writing skills. You will be helping me in a remote, cosmic way, and I thank you in advance. This week I will focus on the 3 min story, a short story that can be read in 3 min or less. Here goes Monday’s assignment...
Not Just Playing Possum.
We had a saying when I was a scoutmaster of my son’s Boy Scout troop. "If we could find a way to make a fire in the middle of a lake our job would be done." That would be enough to entertain the boys for a whole weekend. The men would only relax while the water and flame took care of the rest.
Entertain is the key word. The boys would be entertained because they still had imaginations. They weren’t the only ones with imaginations however, seems I did too, an imagination that on one particular trip, easily ran away. After a long summers day on the lake everyone was dog tired when it was time to turn in. As I drifted off to sleep I heard, from across the lake, the sound of a party. An all night party - an all night party with a steel drum band playing Reggae music - Reggae music well into then night.
Just when it seemed they had finished partying . . . Ah, the sound of quiet . . . They would crank it back up again - the island rhythm taking over once more. This went on all night long; I didn’t sleep a wink. I even went as far as getting up and walking around the lake to find the source of this invisible party. No one was up, anywhere. It was quiet, all quiet.
Then the music started back up again, this time seemingly from the area of our campsite. But there was no one to be seen. I gave up looking and begrudgingly went back to sleep. I went to sleep to the sounds of a ghost steel drum band playing Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up.” - "Little Darlin...Stir It Up"
The next morning, in the clearness of the light of day, I found my band. Asleep in the trash can, no more than thirty feet from my tent, was a pair of possums. My steel drum band. My steel drum band that had managed to climb into the trash cans looking for a midnight snack. They had climbed in, but not out. When they tried to free themselves from their state park jail cell the sounds of their little clawed feet on the side of the old metal can sounded exactly like steel drums, steel drums that played well into the night. You can see why my ears got the best of me.
"So this is your Reggae band that kept you up all night Mr King?” One of the smarter boys in our group said to me. I said - “Yes it is... looks like they’re sleeping now though. They must be wore out from all that playing last night.” He looked at me and smiled - “No, Mr. King there not sleeping - they're just playing possum now, instead of steel drums.”
Things aren’t always what they seem, and this is a good thing. If we could tell all there is to know about our environment from only one source there would be no need for exploration, No need to walk around the lake. No need for imagination. Pretty dull huh? Life playing possum.
just say yes!
meet Andy Ward King, a professional musician and artist until a diagnosis of parkinons dsease at age 49 forced him into an early retirement., he now uses his music, his art along with the whimsical world he has created in this blog as therapy to ( as he puts it ) outsmart his brain and make the daily battles with parkinson’s a little bit easier, to give him that all important reason to get up on the morning, to make his life worth living. Andy has learned how to say NO to gving up \ NO to depression and apathy \ NO to following willingly the road of decline that stretches before him. he learned that to say no to all of these things all one has to do is say yes. Andy has learned to just say YES to life/\\