Catch Jim’s podcast: 

https://youtu.be/mbAJR4mxwpo

or read the transcript below…

Life, Actually…

THE FIRST AND BEST FRIENDS I EVER HAD

A page from my lifelong Red Clay Diary.

Filled with remembrances that never go away, that stay true and vivid and loyal.

All the way from a Deep South Village childhood to right now…

Monk and Deebie were my imaginary friends when I was a child.

I use the term “imaginary friends” as shorthand so you’ll know approximately what I’m talking about.

The truth is, Monk and Deebie were in no way imaginary. As any adult who ever had such companions will tell you, imaginary friends are very real, very solid, very three-dimensional and quite alive.

If you’ve ever had the privilege of living close to an imaginary friend, you know what I’m talking about. If you have never for a moment enjoyed the presence of an imaginary friend, then I can’t imagine how you got through childhood’s enormous obstacles in one piece.

Monk and Deebie lived with me in a world all their own, a world exactly contiguous to yours and mine.

This is not exactly a parallel universe, because both the universe of Monk and Deebie and the universe of you and me exist simultaneously in the same place. And, yes, two worlds can and do exist in the same location at the same moment, as any child can tell you.

Monk and Deebie were a fully adult couple, a middle-aged husband and wife who lived peacefully and with comfortable dignity in a small home that I could occupy at any time. They often joined my family for meals, and I often joined them in their home for meals and camaraderie.

Being the luckiest child alive, I was granted the most gentle and understanding real-life family you can imagine. My mother and father and sister took my childhood seriously. They never made fun of Monk and Deebie. They accepted me and my only friends. They set places at our little garage apartment kitchen table for this couple they could only see through my eyes.

My family and Monk and Deebie nurtured and supported me. As I said, I was the luckiest child alive.

The great thing about Monk and Deebie was they were exactly my size, even though they were grownups.

Monk always wore a nicely-tailored brown, double-breasted suit and tie and smoked a large cigar. Deebie was neatly attired in a 1940′s Sunday school dress complete with apron for working around their little kitchen.

One day, Monk and Deebie disappeared.

As a child full of energy and imagination and challenges at hand, I did not know they had packed up and moved on to support the next three-year-old shy kid who needed them. Later, I imagined that Monk and Deebie traveled around, helping one kid till things looked safe and stable, then leaving to help another…

Ever since childhood, now and then, I think about Monk and Deebie, my very first personal friends, friends who never let me down, never criticized me. Friends who to this day accept me the way I was and the way I am.

To this day, I am certain that if they ever decide to re-appear and visit me they will still be accepting and loving and as comfortably situated in my heart as they always were in their tiny living room when I was three of age.

I’ve discussed the concept of imaginary friends with adults who had them around when they were kids, and I’ve noticed that their imaginary friends were every bit as important to them as mine were to me. I don’t understand any of this at all. But you know, I’m not sure I want to understand or probe too deeply.

After all, what if Monk and Deebie return and find that I no longer believe in them?

What an embarrassment that would be.

Here’s hoping that you and Monk and Deebie are comfortable having a fine time remembering the good and disenfranchising the bad and just generally having a happy thought intrude itself on your existence once in a while in this real and imaginary life

© Jim Reed 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

TIMEWASTERS LLC

 Tired of snapping alert, suddenly finding you’ve been frittering away precious time?

 Feeling guilty about not completing tasks, just because you zoned out or got distracted by something unproductive?

Timewasters is here to help.

Timewasters…wasting time on your behalf…so that you can do what needs to be done.

File away your guilt and shame. Allow Timewasters to take over the useless activities that get in the way…freeing you up to get on with it.

While you are slaving away, Timewasters will take care of all the unimportant things…like snacking, scrolling, channel-hopping, scratching, obsessing, mulling, whining while texting, gossiping, shaming, belittling, bolstering, tweeting, snapchatting, binging, ordering online products you’ll never use, returning online products you’ll never use…

Engage Timewasters…

So that you can now concentrate on completing the job, cleaning up around here, straightening things, catching up on friends, actually reading a book…while Timewasters is busy doing insignificant things you no longer linger over, like plucking hairs you’ve never noticed till now, watching one sports activity played repeatedly from dozens of angles in both slow motion and real time…comparison-pricing items you’ll never buy, comforting annoying people who take up too much time, face-timing with acquaintances you detest but are afraid to confront, sucking up to superiors who do nothing but brush you off.

Timewasters! We are here for you!

Call us  whenever you grow tired of aimlessness. Whenever you wish to feel worthwhile once more.

Timewasters LLC

Lolling about, just for you

© Jim Reed 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Listen to Jim’s podcast: https://youtu.be/tDWIznQxLFo

or read his transcript below:

PATCHWORK SNUGGLE

There are times that I am four years old. The first time I feel four is the time I actually am four, so many years ago. But there are many other times when I feel four again, times that continue to this day.

Just a few minutes ago, I was four again. Four, but with decades of life and experience laid on. That means I am having four-year-old thoughts and ancient grown-up thoughts all at the same time. Jumbled together, they make a profound stew.

One of those times:

The early morning of winter is so cold I wish I could snuggle forever beneath quilts and blankets and comforters. The between-time, the moments when wakefulness arises and sleep creeps away to wherever sleep creeps away to…this between time is precious. Part of what makes it precious is that I am learning that it cannot last uninterrupted.

My four-year-old self and my generations-old self wonder about life in the same way, but time and age enable me to express it all using post-childhood words.

Empathy is something encapsulated within me, something only I can feel, that no-one else knows I am feeling. At surprisingly unpredictable times, empathy magically extends itself, spreading kindnesses and kindly behavior. When empathy happens, comfort and goodwill abound. All seems right, all seems in place.

Other times, empathy sullenly hides and refuses to appear on demand, a coward ducking behind barriers of fear and trembling, confusion and disorientation.

Life is a puzzle at best. Life is so good now and then that the future feels possible. During the good periods, I try to get things done. I cling to the idea that things could be like this forever, if only…

But, just to keep me on my toes, uncertainty waits impatiently to find entrance to a less-sure self.

I lie here in my familiar bed beneath familiar covers, in a familiar room. For this instant, all is well.

In another instant, I will hop to it. I will get ready to work and play at the same time. I will brace myself against impending sorrow, open myself up to laughter and camaraderie, look for the good things that come from bad things, anticipate the bad things so that I can make them bearable.

In other words, like any ancient four-year-old, I will make do. I will try to cherish and remember the sweetness that presents itself now and then. I will somehow muddle through the day.

I will look forward to the next snuggle

© Jim Reed 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Catch Jim’s podcast at: https://youtu.be/hVeiYvF8T-Q

or read his original transcript below:

Life, actually…

ADVENTURES IN PHONELAND

IN OLDEN DAYS…this is how we make phone calls:

1. Lift phone from cradle.

2. Dial number.

3. Phone at other end of call rings.

4. If no-one answers, hang up and try again later.

5. If called person answers, conversation begins.

IN TIMES LIKE THESE…this is how we make phone calls:

1. Retrieve palm-sized phone from bag or purse or pocket.

2. Enter some kind of code.

3. Search for number of party about to be called.

4. Punch automated number.

5. After phone rings, listen to recorded message.

6. When beep occurs, leave message.

7. If impatient, text a thumb-animated message.

8. Disconnect and wait.

TODAY, CALL MY BOOKSTORE, USING OLD-TIME METHOD OR CURRENT METHOD…

1. Tapping fingers impatiently, wait for phone to ring three times.

2. Listen to message: “Happy memories from Reed Books and the Museum of Fond Memories. If you’re calling during business hours, this recording means I’m down the hall or on the other line. Please leave a message and I’ll call back. We’re in the shop Tuesdays through Saturdays. Phone and email and internet orders are available, along with curbside store pickup. All charge cards and paypal available, gift cards, too. And we really want to help you. Y’all come!” BEEP.

3. Leave your message. No texting available.

4. Should you not leave a message, I will not know you called, since I live in pre-caller-ID-land.

IN DAYS OF YORE, I NEVER HAVE TO RETRIEVE YOUR MESSAGE, SINCE NO MESSAGE MACHINE EXISTS. I just wait for you to call again.

IN TODAY’S WORLD, I must obtain your recorded message in order to find out what’s what.

1. I dial a ten-digit number

2.  A robotic voice asks me to enter area code and telephone number, then something called a PIN.

3. Voice chastises, “I‘m sorry, the number you entered does not match our records. If you have forgotten your number…”

4. I override rest of message and enter correct PIN thingy. It was nice of the robot to apologize.

5. Robotgirl shouts out, “Welcome to AT&T voice mail. You have one new voice message and no saved voice messages.” (The voice is answering a question I did not ask.)

5. Voice continues, “Main menu. To get your messages press one.”

6. I comply. After a beep, I’m told, “You have one voice message received today at 2 zero 9 pm from number 205-555-5555.” Why do I need to know the time and the number? I just want your message.

7. I listen to your message at last. I make notes.

8. Further robotic instructions: “To repeat, press 4.” Please, don’t repeat. I’m done.

9. I punch “7″ in order to hear that lovely voice again, “Erasing message.” Then, “You have no more messages.” OK, I get it. I have no more messages because I just erased them. Robot is beginning to sound condescending. 

10. I realize I am having an emotional reaction to an emotionless machine. Isolation has gone on too long. I need human contact.

Arrgh!

Did I spell “arrgh” correctly?

Now I’m talking to myself

© Jim Reed 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE