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Oh, no! Not another high school reunion!

I’ve been called to action by Fate and Folly.

High school classmate Bertha got me on the phone the other day and uttered those hypnotic words, “Would you come to the Class Reunion and tell some of your stories…you know, the funny things that happened in our years at Tuscaloosa High School?”

Yikes!

My emotions are mixed, to say the least. On the one hand, I’m flattered that at last I’m being invited to relate tales about growing up…in front of the very people who were there while I was growing up! They might not want to hear what I have to say.

On the other hand, I am torn between telling the naked truth, thus risking rejection or disapproval (sounds like high school itself, doesn’t it?), or carefully editing my anecdotes to focus on the funny and the poignant. Another way of saying this is, I can shoot first and run for the exit, or I can regale the crowd with the best and most entertaining memories and forget about trying to prove anything.

At my age, most petty anger is now spent, most resentments dismissed, all squabbles a thing of the misty past.

There are two ways to tell the truth, in writing or in storytelling. 1. You can be flat-out honest—thus, tactless and insensitive. Or 2. You can skip forward to the best and most positive notations on childhood—thus, engaging and nostalgic.

You can tell the truth either way…brutally or entertainingly.

The fact that I always choose the non-hurtful approach to the truth is simply an indication that I am painfully aware the world is filled with people who snark away and batter the reader/listener with the negative side of everything—which accomplishes nothing but resentment. I’ve had enough of that. Nowadays I merely wish to share my experiences with people who will in turn feel relaxed enough to compare notes about their similar journeys.

Does this make any sense?

Well, I’ll pull a few stories from my endless memoirs and hope that I extract a few laughs from the crowd, while perhaps making them squirm a bit, too.

The big event is this Saturday night in Tuscaloosa.

I’ll let you know how it turns out

© Jim Reed 2014 A.D.

jim@jimreedbooks.com

http://www.jimreedbooks.com

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• SmackDabandInextricablyintheMiddleofSomewhere.mp3

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Smack Dab and Inextricably in the Middle of Somewhere

Let us ponder for a moment the word inextricably.

Yeah, inextricably—one of those words that is most effective only if used sparingly and at exactly the right moment.

Inextricably.

Born into the world and borne through life as a book nerd, I can’t help now and then using words that make certain people uncomfortable. Down here in the South, when a word like inextricably pops out of my mouth, some folks raise their eyebrows and slowly back away. If I’m really wrapped up in what I’m expounding about, I may not notice this till later. And even if I don’t notice it at all, sometimes the wary listener will make an offhand comment like, “Well, I’m not a big reader, but I guess if I knew what some of those words mean that you’re using, I could figure it out.”

Oops! Didn’t mean to be off-putting. It’s just that nerdiness seems to be inborn, so inborn that I don’t even notice that I’m speaking in tongues to random people, without meaning to.

As a writer, my goal is to communicate clearly and with precision, but now and then inextricably creeps in and becomes a speed-bump to anybody’s understanding of what I’m trying to get across.

So, next time you hear me use one of those multisyllabic words that don’t seem to fit within your comfort zone, just catch my eye, tilt your head slightly, raise your eyebrows and say, “Say what?”

Maybe I’ll take a deep breath, tone it down a little, and get back to regular, clear talk.

After all, I’m not inextricably bound to that word

© Jim Reed 2014 A.D.

jim@jimreedbooks.com

http://www.jimreedbooks.com

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http://redclaydiary.com/mp3/HangerManagement.mp3

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HANGER MANAGEMENT 

I’m gathering trash from around the house, attempting to be a good guy by removing all detritus before Trash Day arrives tomorrow. You know, Trash Day—the day the earth-rumbling truck swooshes by and efficient city workers expertly pick up all our leavings and disappear into the sunrise, with only upturned garbage containers remaining as evidence of their existence.

As I go from room to room, I am amazed at all the un-reusable stuff we toss. But when I arrive at Liz’s dressing room I am confronted with a white plastic pail, from which protrudes a mangled mass of clothes hangers ready for expulsion.

This is the day after one of Liz’s annual Spring Rearranging Days, times when she goes through her vast accumulation of clothing and accessories and becomes the Lone Rearranger, dedicated to purging the undesirables and organizing the keepables.

Today it’s the orphaned coat hangers. Tomorrow it will be the newly-assessed shoes—I’ll glance into the same room and see an orgy of intertwined footware of every description piled and ready for triage. It’s an awesome sight.

But for right this minute, it’s the coat hangers, which are impossible to pack into trash bags, since their hooks tear into the plastic, their shoulders bulge out and break the sides. And they desperately cling to one another in powerful protest. It’s a wrestling and muttering match you really don’t want to be around to see and hear.

I put this kind of thing off for days, but eventually the hangers will have to go, lest Liz proclaims that it is them or me.

I become the Great Peacemaker, my sworn fidelity to the Lone Rearranger unshakable.

As I dispose of the wired critters, I hide a couple for their utilitarian purposes—as tools to use in unlocking car doors, unclogging sinks, retrieving stuff from under the sofa, reaching high for things…and so on.

They are safely hidden till Liz finds them next Spring and resumes the expulsion ritual.

But for now, during this one moment of satisfaction, I am the Great Peacemaker, the resident expert on both Domestic Harmony and Hanger Management

© Jim Reed 2014 A.D.

jim@jimreedbooks.com

http://www.jimreedbooks.com

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http://redclaydiary.com/mp3/thelongtimeshiftfilled.mp3

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The long-time shift filled with big-faced grins 

My McDonald’s order completed via raspy speaker and dancing screen, I proceed (in an orderly manner) to wend my way via automobile to the “pay” window.

Directing customers one by one is an elderly man sitting outside in the cold rain, plastic clothing barely protecting him from the damp chill.

He has a big smile on his face.

Nothing to do while I’m awaiting my turn, but to engage him.

I roll down the window and say something like, “This is the perfect day for not coming to work.” His smile gets bigger and he shouts out in a husky voice, “No, man, this is great. I like working outdoors. This is a good job!”

He means it, I can tell. And his demeanor and comment make me grin all over. The rest of the morning isn’t so bad.

Then, last night, Liz and I are leaving the house to dine with friends. Across the street, a middle-aged pizza delivery man is pulling to the curb and gathering his goodies to bring to a neighbor’s house.

Since I’m home from work for the evening, I wonder how he feels about this repetitive job.

I sing out, “I guess it feels like a long time till midnight right now.” He immediately gets my meaning and breaks out in a full-face smile. “Oh, this is no problem at all. I really like this work…you know I’ve been doing it for fourteen years!”

I reflect back his smile and congratulate him. He pauses a moment to engage.

“I think maybe you’ve delivered to my house,” I say.

He says, “You mean that one?” pointing to the yellow 1906 home with white picket fence.

“Yep, that’s us,” I reply.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve delivered to y’all plenty of times,” he boasts proudly.

Now I recognize him and realize he’s right.

“Well, we really appreciate you…and we’ll see you at our house next time!”

He waves a pleasant wave and proceeds with his mission.

And I decide to reduce my bickering about what a hard day I’ve had, next time I arrive home.

Hey, look, it’s really raining outside today—did you notice?

And do you notice how beautiful it is?

This will be a good day to come alive

© Jim Reed 2014 A.D.

jim@jimreedbooks.com

http://www.jimreedbooks.com

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