The Man I Used to Be

Marriage, a great institution for some,

you know those who have managed 40,

50, 60 years, even more. I have tried two

and a half times with little to no success.

That half-try was 6-years living with a

woman I never married. We discussed it

casually a couple of times. Lovely woman,

got too comfortable, though, and needed

to move on. Stagnation is a terrible thing.

Seventeen years struggling with the first

marriage which was never really meant to

be in the first place. Not all her fault, just

a mismatch of personalities from the be-

ginning.

The third try lasted some twenty years off

and on. The two of us had our heads screwed

on wrong—drugs, alcohol and depression on

both sides. Besides that wife died and put an

end to trying.

Settling down to the routine of everyday

with the same person has always been a

problem for me. At seventy-three now and

not able to move around so much, I find

companionship with two small dogs and

staying home alone is an acceptable alter-

native for me.

There was a woman on Facebook who tried

to convince me that I needed a good woman

to take care of me. Too late for that, I told her.

I did my best to convince her, I’m way past

prime time. And looking at her picture on her

home page, I saw that she was way past hers.

The whole issue for me goes far beyond the

beauty is only skin deep bit. I just can’t stand

the thought of waking up in the morning

and making myself presentable inside and

out. And too thank God, for I’m no longer

half the man I used to be.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 2-27-2020

Nowhere or Somewhere

Some days I wake to a revelation

and say to myself, this is going nowhere.

What is this or anywhere else, but nowhere?

Even standing still, time and place are

somewhere. The Earth, moon and

stars are out there, somewhere going

elsewhere. The motion of my thoughts

move me. Then by virtue of motivation,

I take the first step once again, and

even if only to the kitchen and coffee in the

morning, I have arrived. So it is then I realize,

I am here, and never in my life have I ever been nowhere.

I’m not yet quite awake.

There, the recliner is over there, somewhere.

I find my place and sit. For now and until I move on,

I and am here.

                              -30-

Chris Hanch 2-26-2020

Words of Wisdom

A while ago, a wise man told me: I’m not

as good as I once was, but I’m as good once

as I was. A double entendre, some will claim.

But when I reached a certain age, having been

through what I had to go through, that telling turn

of phrase eventually made perfect sense to me.

By then, once had become once opon a time.

And so it is when we reach out for it we find

that once was left far behind.

The lesson a wise man imparts from this is that a

good sense of humor is what’s at stake. And should

that strike us at all, laughably, once is all it takes.

We have our lessons to be learned. And as for our

nitwitted mistakes, sometimes we may discover

that more than once the Piper must be paid.

Wise or not, at times such as these, don’t metephors

and idioms tend to piss you off? And yet, we still search

for once of the past again.

                                  -30-

Chris Hanch 2-25-2020

Blind Drunk

Seems back in my drinking days, I could fall in

love more easily. In bars, it could be said, the

more I drank the prettier women appeared to

me, to a point, that is. And when I went beyond

that, the more stupid and sloppy I became.

Then, the lyrics to that old Tina Turner song,

What’s love got to do with it? aptly applied.

The only thing worse than mixing alcohol and

emotional entanglement is that all inhibitions

and common sense are out the window, gone.

And when two involved are both tipsy then the

mix can often become a blinding mess. What in

hell did I ever see in him or her in the first place?

Now, I’m not trying to give alcohol a completely

bad name. Moderation, I say. Alcohol certainly

serves a purpose when other anesthetics are not

readily available for bullet removal or amputation

of arm and leg. And remember, my friends, it’s il-

legal and unsafe to drink and drive. But should a

drunk next to you as the designated driver happen

to puke in your lap while your eyes are keenly fo-

cused on the car ahead, I ask you, try falling in love

with that.

                              -30-

Chris Hanch 2-25-2020

The Last Word, Let's Wait and See

I listen to the dead who spoke their

thoughts and words when they were

alive. I may or may not be manipu-

lated by whatever they had to say.

Oh, I may agree or disagree with the

premise they have laid out in front of

me. They couldn’t care less now as

was likely the case before their demise.

Ah but, they are wiser than I now, no

longer having to retract what was once

stated so emphatically. Or was it an

interrogatory they posed to me?

I often wonder, when they said, we must

wait and see, were they speaking directly

to me? If so, I would indeed prefer to mull

the situation over a spell before I go.

I know there have been some who will

excuse the composer’s unfinished sym-

phony. But as for me, I’d prefer to hear

or write that final note, you know.

As it goes with me, I say, take it all with a

grain of salt, and don’t believe everything

you read. That’s an idiom with which I had

nothing to do. Don’t take it literally.

Turn the shaker over. Stir it up once again.

There are always a few grains of thuth left

lingering. Wait for it...How many last words

can there be?

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-25-2020

Obituary

I knew the man, worked for him at the same

company years ago. A good and solid fellow

he was indeed. Highlighted in his obituary

where members of his family surviving and

deceased. Mentioned were his alma mater,

his church and a number of his philanthropic

good deeds. Formerly was president of that

company I referred to previously. Loved kids,

grand kids, and great grand kids. His children

remember him as a dedicated father who in-

stilled the values of hard work, integrity, and

compassion. Had five sons with his first wife

who passed years ago. Loved his current wife,

and together, they loved their dog, Shelby. He

was 88-years old. And as I see it, that was a

decent span of life, although many would have

wished him more. Obituaries, they are all for-

matted pretty much the same. You had to

know the deceased personally to really give

an accurate description of who they were and

what they meant to you. As for me, when I go,

you can skip the number of family members

who remain behind to grieve; no need to men-

tion university or business titles held. I never

attended college nor achieved corporate sen-

iority. And as for loved ones known and lost, a

reference to my dogs is okay, But as far as who

survives who, we’ll just have to wait and see.

I do know this, there is no way either my dogs

or I are going to live anywhere near age 88. Per-

haps in dog years if we’re lucky. For today, I lick

my paws, and whatever the case, I’m ready.

                                        -30-

Chris Hanch 2-24-2020

Jimmy

Jimmy was going to get his ankle fixed,

messed it up bad jumping off a garage

roof. Not sure why he was up there in

the first place. Could have been high or

down, some kind of pain killers he was

on even before his injury. Damn fool jum-

ped instead of using a ladder. Jimmy was

out of money, was scheduled to get sur-

gery at the VA for free, needed a place to

stay for a couple of weeks. I offered him

to hang out with me after we finished our

treatment for substance abuse, a 27-day

inpatient program at the VA. I was clean,

but Jimmy needed meds for his pain, and

took more than prescribed which was not

good for me. Unless you clean up your act,

I warned him, you will have to leave. I can’t

risk falling back into that addiction trap. So,

while cooking dinner one night, Jimmy pas-

sed out and nearly caught my place on fire.

That was it, and I evicted Jimmy right there

and then. He had another friend he could

stay with, and I sent him packing. Not two

weeks later Jimmy’s other friend called to

tell me that Jimmy had died, O. D. ed on ille-

gal drugs he had bought on the street with a

$4000 inheritance he had recently received

from a deceased aunt. Goddamn it, Jimmy, I

thought to myself, a lot of good any of that

does you now. And I thanked God I was sober

and still alive. More than I could say for poor

Jimmy, 52-years old and sent to an untimely

grave. Money in his pocket pissed away,
a dead man just the same, messed up till
the end, ankle and all.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-24-2020

Toolbox and Tricks of the Trade

The mechanic eats lug nuts for lunch

Monkey wrenches attack the plumber under the sink

Crochet needles weave the old lady

turnabout is fair play

Spoon in hand the pastor eats his pulpit in public

With a bastard file the politician carefully crafts his lies

God reconsiders requests scribbled on post-it notes

A crowbar permits the volcano to erupt

Shoestrings love bows which tie into knots

Fish frys on Wednesdays are a sacrilege

Peanut butter and jelly collide

Batman swings a two-sided ax with his left hand

The Grand Ole Opry succumbs to stage freight

The rodent’s hair follicles retire

BRIDGES DEMAND TO BE REPRESENTED IN ALL CAPS

Your lazy ass stays at home and the feet go it alone

Sweden sleeps on an air mattress in the North Sea

You awaken at 2 AM and suddenly realize

It’s all BS You tie your shoes and go back to sleep

Unbeknownst to you the toothpaste crawls back into

the tube

And all these revelations fill the page without benefit

of proper punctuation

Some do some don’t

the toolbox closes

as the lights go out

The screen door stops a misquito in mid-flight

Good Night sleep tight

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 2-19-2020

This Moment in Time

There was a day long ago when I thought

myself an entrepreneur. I abandoned my

company for a woman. I thought myself

a lover then. It turned out I was neither,

having lost my business and the woman

as well. Another time, I fancied myself as

an artist and a writer. And so, like many of

that kind, I took up drinking, but wound

up in a constant stupor, sleeping off hang-

overs instead. How I managed to come out

of that alive is still a puzzlement to me. Oh,

the diminished days, and nights of despair,

the missing links to memory, the wastelands

of loneliness and misery. Over time with

therapy and treatment, eventually I recov-

ered and became a sober participant re-

entering society. I did what I needed to do in

order to make my way. And today, quite a long

distance removed from my youth and the errs

of yesterday, I find myself retired and disabled

in my old age. I write about that, and quite a

price I paid for the mistakes I made. Some of

it was serious as a deathbed tragedy, I’ll admit.

And now that I am alive to tell the story, some

of it was, I must say, a foolhardy comedy.

Had things turned out differently, likelihood

is, at this moment in time, you would not be

hearing a bloody word from the likes of me.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-22-2020

Small Talk

The nurse from the VA who came to my apartment

and examined me made small talk as she poked and

probed, took vital signs and recorded the results. So,

what did you do for a living when you were still

working, she asked me?

Oh, it’s a long story, I told her, so many things. I did

factory work. I was in sales, purchasing and advertising.

You know, lots of different things. Mostly though, I am

an artist and writer. I...I...I…stammering to collect my

thoughts as I tried to explain.

So much, so many things, it’s hard to say. An artist

and writer, she repeated the best of what I had said

previously. Perhaps to narrow my list of duties and

positions in the past, I should have painted my per-

sonal endeavors with a much broader brush.

Pursuant to that, I could have said, mostly I played king

of my own domain; some days I was the supreme ruler

of all I surveyed. At times, I was benevolent and magnan-

omous; now and then, I was a god, righteous and judge-

mental, you know, Burn in hell! Off with their heads!

I didn’t want to intimate of frighten the poor thing.

She was just trying to make her work and mine a bit

more palatable at the time. Blood pressure, 126 over

90. Not too bad, I said to her. I added nurse to my list

that day. I favour the artist and writer though. I’ll carry

those preferred experiences with me to the grave.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-22-2020

Word

When I’m alone and in pain, I tend to swear a lot.

It’s okay, I tell myself, generally no one is around

to hear. And, for me at least, it helps a little bit.

My dogs understand a few commands, but seem

oblivious to the cuss words I use, until the other

day as I yelled, Shit!, when hobbling into the living

room. And my older dog sat as if by command. No,

No, I said, Shit, not sit! And in looking around on the

carpet, I saw my pup did that too. Picking up the mess

with a paper towel caused pain and I groaned, Damn

it! And the little fellow came up to me. No, No, I said

again, your name is, Apollo, not Damn it! I now see

why cursing gets a bad wrap. I try my best to use Damn

it more often now; Shit, not so much even though it hurts

like a Son-of-a-bitch when I have to bend over. Apollo puts

his tail between his legs when I say S.O.B. (He knows from

where he comes.) Instead of profanity, I tried using, Good

Boy, once. I found it didn’t help the pain all that much.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-21-2020

The Visiting Nurse

This was a new nurse from the VA visiting with me. And

at the get-go I informed her, I don’t know what you may
have been told by the last nurse who was taking care of
me, however, I think you should hear it directly from me.
I need hip surgery, but I’d rather endure the pain. No in-
invasive operations for me.

And see that DNR order on the fridge. No life saving
measures either should they be needed to revive me.
As far as I’m concerned, you’re here only to meet the
requirements for me to keep receiving my meds. Simple
as that, no hospitals and nursing homes for me. Seems
that happens all too often with others including my dad
and brother before they died.

I smoke about ten cigarettes a day. Don’t drink alcohol
anymore. Probably be dead by now if I did. Besides, I
need to be able to care of my dogs.

I’m seventy-three and have no desire to live into my
eighties or nineties with the onset of more maladies
and demented loss of memory. And that about sums
it up for me. Otherwise, as I see it, leave me be, and
may I rest in peace.

After the temperature and pulse rate were taken, after
the blood pressure was checked, standing and sitting,
after the cold end of the stethoscope was pressed to my
chest, the abdomen, and run up, down and around the
back, (now take a deep breath), after the feet and toes
were probed with latex-gloved fingers, the nurse penned
in the results on her report.

All is pretty good, the nurse told the me in an emotion-
less professional tone. Looks as if you’ll live another day.
No offense intended, I told her in an unabashed moment
of candor, but hellfire, even without all this fuss, I could
have told you that.

                                 -30-

Chris Hanch 2-21-2020

More About Change

There were times when some grand ideas

crossed my mind. And when those didn’t

come to pass, I considered what I might

change about the world within me? I can-

not afford to buy change, cannot mold my

body into behaving the way I wish it could

be. So then, what options are left for me?

Accept things the way they are, I suppose.

Fools will remain fools; gravity and time

shall continue their immovable ways. My

chronic arthritic pain will certainly not

abate. Don’t re-elect that incompetent,

hateful president, I admonish the pundit’s

commentary on TV. Democracy and the

Constitution as we have known it for the

past few centuries are doomed for sure.

And here I sit, the old dog no longer able or

willing to learn new tricks. The world and I

are screwed for sure. Mass shootings will

continue to plague society; war and terror

as a constant threat shall remain. Crumbling

infrastructure and climate change shall increase

at an alarming pace as Congress sits idly by.

What a woeful disgrace! As for me personally,

I can neither reverse my deteriorating capabil-

ities nor allay the rapid progression of old age.

What’s a pathetic and depressed pessimist such

as I supposed to do? I hobble on my cane into

the bedroom and open the top drawer of the

dresser. Should I, dare I even consider…?

What the hell...I reach for it anyway, and change

into the last clean t-shirt left to my name. What

were you thinking, dear reader? Perhaps tomor-

row, just maybe, I ‘ll muster the will and energy

that it takes to do a load of laundry. Change…

such a laborious undertaking these days. We’ll

have to wait and see how things go.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-20-2020

Cell Phone Disease

There are some days the phone never rings

and on those days I consider myself one lucky

son-of-a-bitch. I have one of those flip phones

I carry around in my pocket, although I have

heard the waves it transmits and receives can

cause cancer when constantly exposed to the

body. At my age and in my current waning phys-

ical state, sooner than later something is bound

to get the best of me. Anyway, last evening

the phone rang about 5 o’clock. At that hour I

figured it was my son who is on his way home

from work about then. I answered because I

always enjoy chatting with him to find out

how his day went. And he listens well when I

tell him about mine. Fine, I tell him, my hip’s

been a pain, but I managed to get some writing

done. Five or ten minutes is all we need for we

touch base about the same time every day. Next

morning while watching some political crap on

MSNBC, the phone rings and on the caller ID

it shows RESTRICTED. I know it’s a call from my

visiting nurse at the VA. It’s time for a routinely

scheduled visit. Sure, Thursday at 11:00. I’ll see

you then. I can deal with the two minutes that

takes, cordialities included. A bit later, ring tone

again. This time an 800 number. With those I

know what to expect, but answer it anyway…

Hello, I begin. Is the head of the household

speaking? Who is this, I reply? I’m Blah, Blah,

So-and-so with the Fraternal Order of Police...

I expected something of the sort, so I cut his spiel

short with, Not interested, as I quickly closed the

phone. Some days are just that way, I tell myself.

And each time I answer that damn thing, I wonder

if old age or cancer will get me first? I can see

myself eventually making the call...911, What is

your emergency? Lady, I’ve got this lump on my

right hip. I believe it likely has to be cancer from

my cell phone. I have a hard time walking too,

but that could just be my arthritis.

                               -30-

Chris Hanch 2-19-2020

Something About Change

I may just spend a whole day sitting in place.

I’m almost seventy-three and no one would

miss me anyway. Who in hell would even care?

But then, one might say, you could, if you would,

go out and inspect the world around, you know,

just to keep your eyes on things. I do appreciate

your concern, but I am confident the world at

large can well manage its nefarious and philan-

thropic deeds without me. After all, it has been

spinning around way before I arrived. Chances

are it will continue long after the likes of you and

me are gone. For now, this day in the life of me,

I have seen just about all I need to see. Oceans

wave, mountains rise, rain forests rain, deserts

continue to bake, blow and dry. Blue skies turn

turn cloudy and gray without me. Famine, war

and peace will see-saw up and down, puzzle

pieces will be inserted into place, vehicular

meyhem shall clog arterial ways. What’s one

whole day, anyway? Perhaps I’ll take a week off,

who knows a month, a year sitting here in place?

And when the paramedics come to cart me away,

with my dying breath I’ll look at them askance and

with great surprise ask, Didn’t a Walgreen’s used

to be on that corner over there? My how things

have changed since I last engaged. By the way,

does Amazon Prime still deliver orders the next

day? Damn! I hadn’t noticed how long my toenails

have grown. You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke on

you, would you? I really should get out more, you know.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 2-18-2020