By the Way

 

Fiddlesticks, humdrum, either way,

who can rightly say? I float listlessly

in motionless doldrum waters today.

Uptight, upright, out of sight, some

will convey. What in hell do they

know anyway? Not a chance in hell,

I say. Handmade, barmaid, homespun

cotton and corn candy, all just words

typed on a page. Go figure. Take it

for all it’s worth. You were expecting

Shakespeare perhaps? No way. Fiddlesticks,

humdrum, either way. Tomfoolery, a means

to an end nonetheless.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 3-31-2022

Happiness Together

 

Were they still alive, and could I have my mother

and father in a therapy session, I would begin my

questioning with, together neither of you seem to

be happy campers and I wonder why?

Of course, I am nearing the seventy-fifth year of

my life, and I know there could be myriad reasons

of which, through my own personal experience,

could present ample evidence of this—physical

or emotional neglect or abuse; unacceptable

learned behaviors applied by one or both parties;

perhaps inherent psychological defects from either

side which generally were unacceptable or unsavory

to the spousal other. The propensity for stress, anxiety,

depression, could result in a lack of understanding,

withdrawl of affection or compassion.

Now, I am neither a professional psychologist nor

annalist, but having experienced all of these issues

in my own life and having undergone divorce, therapy

and rehab, I have come to the conclusion that any or all

of these human maladies can give good reason for

discontent and unhappiness individually and in a

relationship.

I have tried many remedies for my own insufferable

leanings—alcohol, drugs, prayer and professional

psychological intervention. Most of these as needed

provided me with temporary relief. Ah, but some

issues are never absolved completely. The most one

can rely upon is awareness, persistence and timely

intervention as needed or required.

Sounds pretty complex, eh? But that’s the crux of

the human condition as we have come to know it.

We tend to be, at our worst, one complex and oft

times hell of a screwed up species. You’d think

after all we’ve been through genetically, scientifically

and historically, we’d get a better handle on our own

situation.

Trying to simplify my point, I submit two basic

examples or lessons I have learned, ones which

my parents in their lifetimes never did fully

comprehend:

1. My daughter-in-law made a simple yet profound

observation which hit me like the proverbial ton of

bricks. Having gotten to know my ex-wife, and the

mother of her husband, and having met me latter

on, she made a personal observation: “Given

your personalities, I could never have guessed you

two ever got together.” 2. That and what a marriage

counselor once opined made all the sense in

the world to me: “Mr. Hanch, someone in this

marriage has got to change, and that is not

going to be your wife.”

It took me nearly seventy-five years to answer my

own hypothetical question to my mother and father.

Happiness? Mismatched together, for whatever,

they never had a clue. May they both rest in peace.

                                    -30-

Chris Hanch 3-30-2022

A Cadillac Story

 

That brand new, 1962, Cadillac, Eldorado Convertible.

What was it doing in our neighborhood parked behind

my mother’s old beat up and faded 1957 Chevy Bel Air?

I’m certain all the neighbors who noticed it in our drive-

way couldn’t help wondering what world-famous celebrity

was visiting the Hanch family that day. Was it Elvis himself

or perhaps Frank Sinatra? Hellfire, had to be someone with

a shit pot full of money and world-acclaimed prestige.

Look at her, shinning that brilliant blue in the high noon sun,

all that chrome trim a glistening. And the size of her, bigger

and more plush than most living rooms in the neighborhood.

Check out those sleek, wind-swept tail fenders. Damn, a brand

spankin’ new 1962, Cadillac, Eldorado Convertible. Bet she cost

a pretty penny, likely more that a whole year’s salary for some

high-rollin’ son-of-a-gun. Parked behind it, sure puts Mom’s

Chevy clunker to shame, I thought to myself, a fifteen year old

impressionable upstart looking out my second floor bedroom

window that bright and warm summer’s day. 

But walking up tothe front door, I saw it was just Aunt Flossie

and Uncle Ed dressed to the nines and showing off again.

                                           -30-

Chris Hanch 3-27-2021

Pure Energy

Astrophysics has scientifically proven that all

living things contain pure energy. And over time

that energy, which is part and parcel of you and

me, is subject to change anatomically and meta-

bolically. And with that inevitable transformation,

pure energy lasts forever.

In this life of mine, I am not satisfied with that

which pure energy has done to me. A Brad Pitt

look-alike or a prolific Mark Twain literary type,

perhaps another Beethoven-like prodigy not just

some run-of-the-mill withered rag or tumble weed

the likes of which I have thus far transformed into

being would suit me just fine.

So far, this energy everlasting crap, as far as I can

see, is not all it’s cracked up to be.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 3-22-2022 

Meant to Be

 

There were no doctors among the Cro-magnon,

no attorneys in the early stages of Homo-sapiens.

Before the academic awarding of Associates,

Baccalaureate , Master’s and PhD Degrees.

Prior to CEOs, CFOs, Colonels, Generals and

NCOs.

Long, long ago before the Dark and Middle Ages,

the Renaissance and Industrial Age, before Kings

and Queens, before Presidents and Prime Ministers,

before the certified title of any profession there

were artists and artisans rendering their impressions

and interpretations of life’s who, what, when, where,

why and how on the surfaces of hides, clay pottery

and cavernous stone.

From the early beginnings of mankind and his

tribal and societal communities to this day,

artists, musicians, story tellers and scribers

recorded the historical references of their times

and very being.

Now, folks, when I was a child before my

schooling in 1,2,3s and A,B,Cs prior to

reading and writing or formal education,

I took up the pencil, the pen, crayon and brush,

and in the primeval tradition of my early

ancestors, I began my lifelong profession as

an artist.

While modestly encouraged by family and

teachers to continue with my inherent

leanings as a talented hobbyist, I was led

to educationally pursue more substantive

and financially lucrative professions in

order to make a decent living. And half

halfheartedly, I’ll admit, over the years

I did some of that, none of which led me

to personal and professional satisfaction

and success.

Ah, but the arts became the benchmark of

my existence, and now in the advent of

my seventy-fifth year, my existence has

been justified by the talent I was given

at birth. This I knew from an early

age, I was always meant to follow the

inherent primordial stew brewing within

me. No ranking, no official title, no

academic degree necessary.

Art has been my life; my life is my art.

Intrinsically, this is the way it was meant

to be.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-21-2022

To You from Me (Word Play)

 

Nothing new to report. Seems for now at least,

this is what I shall submit again from before to

you from me, seemingly a mere replicated facsimile.

For now and from me abounds an abundance of redun-

dancy. As far as you can see, the substance I transmit

electronically o'er land, air and sea is but a copy of that

which I have stated with the deepest and kindest regards

previously. For today and tomorrow as with yesterday,

please accept this wish I wish—the best to you from me.

                                            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-19-2022

Something about Wants and Needs

 

I got to thinking, what we humans do

is to have all these wants and needs.

And what we have that other species

don’t is the conscious awareness to

know it.

Dogs and cats do what they have been

trained to do. Of course they and other

animals just do what they are supposed

to do instinctively.

We humans, being animals, do some

things intuitively as well to survive.

And also, we do what we have been

taught or conditioned to do. But we

are also often given menus from which

to choose.

I feel like ordering the halibut today.

I had stew yesterday. I want the halibut

when all I really need is to eat. I’m

famished.

I never thought of listening to Beethoven

until I heard his music. Now there are days

when I not only want but feel the need to

hear Beethoven. What would I have done

without Beethoven had I been one of the

first homo sapiens alive on Plant Earth

eons before Beethoven came along?

Wants and needs, with we humans it’s a

complicated thing. Now consider the

galaxies, the planets and stars. They have

needs to survive as well, but they’re better

off not being consciously aware of it.

When the star is done, it’s done, bam!

kaboom! exploded perhaps into a super

nova. Without the slightest thought of

want or need, it’s done. That’s the way

to go, as I see it.

I’d better listen to Beethoven, and get

my human wants and needs met here

and now while I can. As for the halibut,

I’m not at a restaurant, and can’t afford

to eat out now anyway. Want and need

are two different things. I suppose for

today, I have the need to settle for left

over stew with a Beethoven Symphony

on the side.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-15-2022

World War in Ukraine

 

Watching the news of War in Ukraine

on TV. Me, seemingly tucked away

safely across the sea in the USA, viewing

the death and destruction of men, women,

children, homes, cities and towns. War

crimes leveled by Putin and his Russian

regime.

Savage and incomprehensible carnage. I try

to imagine me, my friends, family and neighbors

facing the same, lost and wandering aimlessly

amidst the total ravages mankind has wrought

against mankind. My heart and soul bleed for

us all.

They, the dead, wounded, displaced and survived,

traumatized by the cruel ideology and heinous

crimes of a barbaric and demented, despotic

little man.

2022, it’s hard to believe, a god-forsaken

world indeed streaming on social media.

All the death and destruction in time and

place, broadcast live on commercial TV.

In reality, none of us can escape from the

horrific tragedy.

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 3-14-2022

Back in the Day

 

One day in the not so distant future, I

shall be known as the “late, not so great.”

And that is okay by me, never needed

the fuss an muss of notoriety. Just plain,

Chris, “old what’s his face,” will do.

Life treated me generally much the same

as it did you, I suppose—sometimes fair

and square, sometimes not. Who’s taking

account, anyhow?

Just lucky, I’d say, to have made it three

quarters of a century, a fair accounting

on the ledger of longevity.

One thing which most folks whom have

known me do not know, I was born with

twin toes, one pair on each foot. Noticing

that peculiarity, my mother cried at my

birth. The doctor assured her it was not

such an unusual trait, and it did not

qualify as a disabling or deforming

abnormality. And for sure I can say

it never affected me adversely over

my lifetime in any way.

Now that I think about it, I may have

used my twin toes as a convenient excuse

for those who didn’t know. I didn’t pass

the test in eighth grade because I have

twin toes. I didn’t run the race or came

in last place because my twin toes got

in the way. Why were you late? Oh,

didn’t you know, I had to take care of

my twin toes? Wanna see ‘em...no?

Actually, the doctor who delivered me

originally was right, my twin toes never

affected me either way, positively or

adversely. Perhaps they should have done

a brain scan on me initially. Some weird

things, I have discovered over time, are

inherent with me. But then, they didn’t

have MRIs back in the day. That was

1947, 75-years ago. Lots of strange shit

happening back then they didn’t know.

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 3-13-2022

A Cosmic Concoction

 

Is a cell bigger than a molecule?

Cells are bigger. Cells are made

up of molecules which are made

up of elements, that are made up

of atoms of that element. A molecule

is the basis of everything.

This is a question I asked of the

Internet today.

The Sun belongs to a galaxy called

the Milky Way. Astronomers estimate

there are about 100 thousand million

stars in the Milky Way alone.

Again, another question and the

answer arrived.

When moved to question anything,

this is what we humans do.

Honey Badger, as far as I surmise,

doesn’t question; Honey Badger,

or so I am told, doesn’t care.

Millions of years ago Honey Badger’s

and Human’s ancestral lineage

diverged. And on the basis of natural

genetic evolution, here we are today.

Somewhat like Honey Badger, I find

myself gruff and growlingly obstinate

some days, and more than ready to

bite the face off of anyone who gets

up in my face.

Day after day, the stars in the heavens

perform their nuclear fusion thing

going their own way.

It’s a strange and wildly wondrous

cosmic whirlwind we live in, isn’t

it?

I can hardly believe that I’ll soon be

turning 75-years old. Doesn’t

sound like much comparatively, but

then I realize that I am the only one

of the aforementioned who can

write about such happenings.

Now, whether it gets published

or not is a whole different thing.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 3-12-2022