When money grew on trees

Money once grew on trees.  Green bills, legal tender, dangled from the branches.  One simply had to reach up and stretch for them.  Sometimes they just fell, like leaves in late October; one merely had to grab them as they floated in the breeze.

It was a time when use of the phone meant talking to a live person.  When we still manufactured goods for ourselves and most of the world.  When everyone expected quality goods and services, and businesses competed to provide such things.

It was a time when blue collar workers merged into the middle class and could acquire “necessities” and toys that the rest of the world could little imagine.  A time when white collar men worked in jobs where they could stay a lifetime, get annual promotions and a gold watch when they retired.

It was also a time of struggle, of new frontiers and broken barriers.  A time when girls were still told a career in teaching or nursing was their limit, or maybe they could be an executive secretary.  For a while, until they married… the alternative was being a spinster with cats.  A time when blacks only appeared on screen as a maid, an ‘ain’t they got rhythm’ entertainer, or a token outfielder.  A time when most parts of the country had never seen or spoken with Hispanics or Asians.  A time when much of the globe’s diversity was something we only vaguely knew of from books.

We had yet to see girls gyrating on MTV let alone Lady Gaga’s costumes.  We didn’t have minute by minute accounts of a possible thunderstorm.  Nor did talking heads dissect, analyze and interpret each word or gesture of politicians and movie stars.  We discovered for ourselves that there was no such thing as a free lunch.  Yet, we knew that piece of the American pie was out there.  We could grab our slice of it.

Automation, downsizing and outsourcing changed a few things.  So did burst dotcom and real estate bubbles.  Companies now renege on pension and health plans without a second thought.  Swindlers and scammers use high tech to reach millions. And many can mutter under their breath ‘shoulda, coulda, woulda.’  Some of us (raise your hands with me) might have been better off skipping some afternoon naps, closing a few less bars and not stretching 3 day weekends into self indulgent sidetracks.

Money doesn’t grow on trees anymore.  Some continue to sigh wistfully about the good old days.  Still; a wealth of knowledge and information is available globally and instantaneously.  Expertise is at our fingertips.  So are opportunities.  Most of us can be amused or educated, even make a buck, from the comfort of home.  And the rumor is – with luck, hard work or foresight – we can have that pot of gold.  The one just beneath the rainbow.


PawPawJack©10/29/10

Moonlight, foggy mist and shadow creatures

The two men grinned.  Started walkin closer.  The big brutha grabbin his crotch and gruntin.  The scruffy white guy leering, “We gonna have us a party.”

“Dog!  Dog!!  DOG!!!” I screamed.

I’m at the end of the boardwalk, by the abandoned old casino.  The town was a fancy seaside resort in its day.  New Yorkers came down by the trainload.  They strutted their finery, rode on hand painted wooden ponies in the carousel, ate greasy food and got sun burnt.  That was then.

Now it’s the armpit of the Jersey Shore.  On Ocean Avenue, running along the shore, most of the buildings have been abandoned, just deserted shells of old dreams.  Some of the homeless live in em, and low lifes use em for toilets and crack ho sex.  In between bust out windows you see mangy mutt packs prowling weed, rubble and trash strewn lots.  The retail storefronts lining the boardwalk have plywood nailed to the windows.

I live here now.  The good thing is:  me, my man and his stupid dog got a great big beach almost all to us.  It’s like we own it, like we’re rich and livin a vacation.  The bad thing is – shadow creatures pop up out of nowhere.  Like now, with these two sorry slugs.

My man and I were takin a moonlit stroll on the beach.  Got into a fight bout somethin I can’t remember, and I left him an the dog by the jetty.  Huffed my way thru the sand and climbed the steps up to the boardwalk.  The deserted boardwalk.  Not a soul in sight.  Foggy mist just beginning to roll in.

Walked down the half mile section of boards mutterin to myself.  I didn’t think bout my man telling me to never wander around alone.  “At least take the dog,” he says.  Damn dumb dog always yankin my chain, sposed be other way round.  Was too mad to worry about it.  Too mad to be nervous.  That changed as I was getting to the old casino, about to exit off the boardwalk, go on to home.  This huge black dude was all of a sudden bout 10 steps away.  Just appeared out of the gloom.

He's filthy an nasty lookin, plus no mistakin he up to nothin good.  “I got a dog,” were the first words out of my mouth.  “Dog!  Dog!!  DOG!!!” I screamed.  Loud as I could.  Not that it would do a damn bit a good.

“Don’t see one,” the big f^cker said as he looked around.  That’s cuz it’s hell and gone way the shit the other side of the boardwalk, down the sand and munchin on dead crabs by the jetty, I thought.

What I said was, “It’s a big 65 pound yaller dog.  Just runnin down there on the beach.”  That’s when the skinny white piece of trash came out of the shadows.  One of those wiry tough boys born mean an dirty.  “You're not fooling anyone,” he said.  “We just want a little fun.”

“You jus can’t see it cuz of the fog.”  I yelled for the dog, “Come on here, dog.  Time go home.”  Hopin an prayin now.  These bastards want their way wit me.  Ain’t no chance the dog will hear me.  The sound of the surf in my ears, my heart thumpin even louder.

We all wait a few seconds.  They wanna mess with me; they don’t want to mess with a dog.  The dog don’t show of course.  The shadow creatures are givin me a good lookin over, nudging each other, sayin what a fine piece of big booty I am.  Ain’t gonna outrun em, an no way gonna hurt em bad enuff to stop em.  I’m scared shitless.

“Dog!  Dog!!  DOG!!!” I screamed again.

They comin closer now.  Gonna drag me into the dark.  Gonna turn me into a rag doll, do anything comes into their dirty devil minds.  Don’t know whether to kick an scratch, or jus try an do em quick an hope for the best.

All of a sudden, hear this pounding noise.  Sounds like quick burstin thunder boomin out of the fog.  Somethin roaring down the boardwalk.  I look in that direction, now recognizing the sound.  The sound of Dog racing, the click of nails thumpin the boards.

Dog appears out of the mist.  Runnin full out.  I watch as he slides to a stop just past me, givin this long heart stopping, full protect, don’t f^ck with me growl.  The scumbags have disappeared.  Gone as quick as they came.  Dog looks back at me, gives that silly all teeth showin grin.  Dumb dog.

My man comes strollin down the boardwalk bout 10 minutes later.  He sees me sittin on the boards, dog all nuzzling up and tail waggin, me pettin it an croonin.  “Dog was digging a hole, sand flyin.  Then he just stopped.  His ears perked up and he lit out like a firecracker went off up his ass,” he says.  I don’t say poop.  He watches me an Dog cuddlin for a bit, “guess you all friends now, huh?”  Guess so.


akaKeisha©10/17/10

I Got This!

Grinning from ear to ear, lighting up the neighborhood.  On a cloudy afternoon in October, the little girl is radiant with joy.  Mari’s walking down the street with her mommy.  Walking!  No stroller.

She’s waving something in her right hand.  In her left hand she’s carrying a bag from the store.  A bag the clerk gave HER.  After she walked down the aisles and picked it out all by herself.  She’s skipping down the street; she can’t wait to get home.

“Grammy, grammy.  I got this!”  Beaming with pride, Mari waves the receipt the clerk gave her, “and THIS!”  She pulls a shiny penny from her pocket and holds it out for her grandma to inspect.

“Where did you get that?” her grammy asks.

“At the store.  The lady gave it to me.  And I got THIS!!!”  Mari’s smile could not be any bigger; she raises the store bag, displaying the 99 cent bag of candy inside.

She’s 2 and ½ years old, no longer a baby girl.  Walking to and from the store with mommy.  Given an official piece of paper, a shiny penny and a 99 cent bag of candy.  All for Mari.  Can life get any better?    

  
JDA©10/15/10