A Modest Measure of Faith

 

I don’t get invited to parties

or dinners anymore. Wouldn’t

be able to attend even if I did.

I’m strapped with disabilities

brought on by old age and self-

inflicted abuses over the years

which have eventually caught

up with me.

I have become reclusive and

somewhat anti-social you

might say. I think a lot about

the way things used to be for

me getting here to my cloistered

place in time.

I have seen lots of faces, been

to many places in my day. I

wasn’t all that popular back

then anyway.

In any case, given choices and

circumstance, people tend to

go their separate ways. Have

to face it, life goes on with or

without you.

Socially, I never became a house-

hold name. Today, I manage fairly

well okay on my own. I keep my-

self relatively busy with my basic

daily activities—reading, writing,

listening to music, watching TV

and taking care of a small dog

who faithfully shadows me around

the apartment.

I call my son on the phone everyday

to let him know, for me at least, every-

thing is relatively the same.

Now this may seem pathetically

lonesome to many of you who get

out and about in your lives. Some

may say, this is no way to spend

hours in passing on that inevitable

path to the grave.

But I still manage to maintain a

modest measure of faith with my

inimitable style of thinking. Keep

it up, I say. You just may get lucky,

imagining yourself all the way into

tomorrow and yet another day.

              -30-

Chris Hanch 3-31-2021

Who, What, When, Where, Why and How?

 

Who? Was neither you nor I

but some other who.

What? I have no idea what, but

it’s got to be something what.

When? Had to happen a time ago,

I’m thinking way back when.

Where? Not here, but possibly

over there is where.

Why? Likely because of who, what, when

and where is why.

The question should actually be, How in

hell should I know?

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 3-28-2021

A Degree of Proficiency

 

I never graduated from high school officially.

Needless to say then, never got to college to

graduate from there either. Could say I got

my degree on the streets, but academically

that counts for nada. I made it through years

of drinking which allowed me to graduate to

a more productive life of sobriety. They’re not

handing out diplomas for lifetime longevity or

I’d be up for a PhD. Suppose when I expire there

will be no honorariums or fancy wall-hanging

awards waiting for me. I’ll know, though, I made

the grade as far as being a survivor of lifetime

experiences goes. And by chance or fate, I did

rotate from some rigorous testing along the way.

And on that day with my last hoorah, I will have

achieved a level of intellect and proficiency to at

least ask the perplexing question: Is that all there

is, what’s next?

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 3-26-2021

Oscar and the Ring

 

Oscar was a man

with more than 30

generations of Native

American ancestry

alive and thriving

in him.

Oscar was a Lakota

man, a quiet and stoic

man, who had no need

to speak of his personal

history. The land, the

seasons and the four

winds provided that

for him.

Oscar was a man of

simple means who

proudly wore a familial

ruby bejeweled golden

ring as a sign of security.

During lean times it

became collateral he

pawned for cash from

the white man.

Life is a cycle not unlike

the seasons, he maintained—

During bitter times the ring

would furnish cash for his

primitive needs. In good

times the precious gem

would return to his finger

again with the promise

of warmth and sunshine

come the Spring.

            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-26-2021

Brain Strain

 

What do Grand Funk Railroad,

Morgan Freeman, Red Rocks,

finger nails and hip pain have

in common?

Hell, for no reason in particular

I can’t think of why these things

crossed my mind in a matter of

seconds all on the same day.

Oh, I suppose the fingernails

and the hip pain I can explain

because physically they affected

me. And, I had to take action to

soothe or alleviate an uncom-

fortable situation.

But what of Grand Funk Railroad

and Morgan Freeman? The

previous was the actor’s name

which escaped me the other day

when I wanted to tell my son

about a movie I had watched.

But the former mystifies me

for I never intentionally listened

to Grand Funk Railroad music

even when it was popular back

in the 1970s.

Red Rocks is merely the catchy

name of a place I had been which

randomly entered my brain, and

is otherwise difficult to rationally

explain.

Now, some may claim I have far

too much idle time which tends to

trigger such brain waves to erratically

invade my brain unrelated and

unexplained.

So, my friends, call me batty, but

I’ve decided to make useless sense

out of my thoughts today and write

about it. It’s cheaper than a session

with an analyst who may maintain,

the creative mind sometimes works

that way. All the while I’m thinking,

to me it seems more like cockamamie,

coo-coo crazy.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 3-24-2021

All Part of the Game

 

We passed Miller Pontiac

on Main Street.

Heard that guy’s a crook

I said to my co-worker

in the driver’s seat.

Oh, he responded

with his eyes fixed

on the busy street

ahead of him,

He’s my father-in-law.

Oops, there I go again.

Should have kept

my big mouth shut.

Sorry about that,

I offered my apology.

Don’t know the man

personally, was just

told so by a guy

who bought

a used car from him.

Claimed he got screwed

by him when he

paid good money

for a lousy

vehicle which

blew its transmission

after a week.

Was an “as is” purchase

with no guarantee.

My partner shook

his head.

Don’t blame him,

I’d be pissed too.

You just never know,

waxing philosophical,

I went on.

As is is as is,

in life there are

no guarantees.

Both my co-worker

and I were on

a sales call for

the Kansas City Star.

We were in display

advertising, a real

shyster's racket

if ever there was one.

We were told a good

salesman never takes

no for an answer.

Persistence is key.

Hand a sucker the

pen and make him

sign on the dotted

line. Get the order

or lose you job.

I began to wonder

what my potential

customers thought

of me.

Let’s get a drink.

I know a good bar

close to here, my

partner said.

Why not, I told

myself, Didn’t

seem to mind

screwing my employer

having a drink or two

while on the clock.

I felt a little

better knowing

it’s part of the game

all around—

eventually everyone

gets screwed.

Since he offered,

I let my friend

buy the first round.

-30-

Chris Hanch 3-23-2021

Appetite for Delight

 

It struck me today, an appetite for delight,

the curious need for something smooth and

creamy. It doesn’t appeal to me every day,

but today the irresistible yen hit with ferocity,

this urgent need I tell you, perhaps a select word

or two I can’t eschew, the yearning to rhyme

a line in 3-quarter time which will waltz me

through my day, a musical signature Strauss

would likely know how to play. And in sheer

delight, I’d sweep my escort across the ball-

room floor, me, that dashing chap in uniform,

not the aging stumble bum I have become.

Something smooth and creamy to satiate and

satisfy—hum-ta-da-dum-ta-dum. On second

thought, perhaps a home made devil’s food

cake with chocolate frosting will do. Today my

damned arthritic hips would most assuredly

impede my smooth and creamy moves.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 3-22-2021

Photographic Artistry Today

 

For years it used to be

I would take my camera

with me wherever I went.

What I had in mind was

to take pictures of inter-

esting people and places

I would find.

Folks do that with their

smart phones in this day

and age. Mostly, it seems,

they only want to text or

talk every waking moment

of the day.

Sure wouldn’t want to miss

connections with friends

and family miles away.

The pictures folks take

now and again aren’t

all that good anyway.

Mostly, smart phone

cameras are used for

Selfies to document

where the user has been

on any given time and

place.

With the stand alone

camera it was aimed the

other way. The photogra-

pher was out to capture

the goings-on in the

greater world at large.

Used to be seen with

a camera around your

neck and people would

take you for either a

photo journalist or a

tourist.

Nowadays, given the

smart phone craze,

one doesn’t stand out

from any other self

absorbed technology

user walking or driving

down the street.

Excuse me, Sir, Ma’am,

are you on a limited

or unlimited 5G Plan?

Call me Old School, but

how friggin’ photo

artistically intriguing

is that anyway?

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 3-20-21

Game of Chance

 

He drank his morning coffee, and

lit up his second cigarette. No specific

plans for today, like yesterday, pretty

much the same game.

He wasn’t worried about cancer or

death, but rather pondered, would

three packs of weeds last three days

until his son could go shopping for

him again?

This disabled shit was a pathetic

game of chance which time and

a sordid life had forced him to play.

Some say life is a zero sum game

bound to do him in one of these

days anyway.

And Chances? Why hell fire, the

way he saw it, taking chances was

in the hand he was dealt to play

every day.

Go with trips or go for a full house?

Who in hell could say?

By his reckoning and the odds, he

figured his son would come through

for him on Thursday.

If he played his cards right, he was

betting three packs would last him

until then. He snickered at the whole

damn game of chance anyway.

All in, he said sliding his stack of chips

forward while lighting up another cigar-

ette and blowing perfect smoke rings

into the air.

He took a deep breath and had another

sip of coffee.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 3-18-2021

Time and Again

1947, the year of my birth. From

my current place in time, I look back

and realize I was born only 20-years

after 1927. When I was old enough

to have some concept of time those

20-years seemed to be in another

century, long ago historically. Now

nearing my 74^th year I realize how

compressed time really is. The old

golden days of yore, the rotten days

of Depression and war were never

really that far away. From biplanes

in April to men on the moon in June.

Know what I’m saying. We are the

history we’re living through. Today

in a nutshell is only the day after it

all happen, historically speaking,

that is. A few years here and there

and Gutenberg and Hemingway,

Shakespeare and Attila the Hun may

have lived next Door.

Time and your fleeting ways, look

what you’ve done to me...You are

a bitch and a charlatan indeed.

On my best days you lie to me;

on my worst days, you have made

a believer out of me.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 3-16-2021 

Speak Slowly, Please!

 

Yesterday I had a major problem

with my photo shop computer program.

The screen froze on me, and even a reboot

didn’t alieviate the issue. So, I looked up

the manufacturer’s phone number on

Google and placed my call.

Oh no, I recognized the woman’s thick

accent on the other end. What part of

the world am I speaking to, I asked her?

India, she responded back to me. I asked

her to please speak slowly for I was having

a hard time trying to understand, and no,

I don’t speak Hindi either. It’s a beautiful

language, I am sure, but there must be

dozens of dialects, none of which I am

capable of translating.

I was having a hard enough time with her

sing-song variety of English. Now, I had

two problems, my software and her

linguistics.

There is no way for me to make the

following long story short. If my

more than three hours of confusion

and intense frustration with a host

of customer service and technical

help flummoxed me to near insanity,

I am certain you would hate me

enough to never read another piece

of my work ever again.

Anyhow, without me repeating a

thousand times, Please help me, speak

slowly. I do not U N D E R S T A N D!

I bought a new and improved program

instead, and had them download it

remotely which took another two hours.

I must say thank god the lengthy process

was done in silence. I never thought I could

stand by watching the slow percentages of

the proceedure tick tediously away before

my eyes on the computer screen. Never

had I ever figured I would be so amenably

gleeful to virtually watch paint dry over

listening to a person spew out in disorien-

ting rhythms their version of English

which I could barely understand.

Even had we both spoken the same language,

I’m sure today’s technology alone would have

still gotten the best of me.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 3-13-2021