Arguably, This or That?

If not this, it would have been that.

Had it not been the hip then more than likely

the knee. This could be a case of either or—

if not the bird than possibly the bee.

Arguably, if not Italian, it may then perhaps

have its origins in Greece.

If not up, then down. A turn to the left or to

the right will make the difference between

loose or tight. May have been planned, or on

the other hand, without any rhyme to the

reasoning. Consider the implausible, face the

reality, had it not been you, with a degree

of certainty, it may have been me. Then again,

could have been the other guy, the tall one

or the short, the lean one or the fat.

It is with this fundamental premise I state

my case, right or wrong, had it not been this,

then most assuredly, it had to be that.

I suppose, hypothetically, it could be neither,

but what are the odds of that?

Chris Hanch 11-9-17

My How Time Flies

This November my daughter will turn forty-eight.

And in the same month, fifty-three years ago, I will

have entered the Army at seventeen years of age. In

December my son will usher in his fifty-first year.

My kids are busy at work chasing me around the

calendars which are rapidly sailing by. For now,

at least, I shall remain in the lead of our lifetime

regatta. I can see them now astern on the horizon.

I shall trim the mainsail and tack starboard for

awhile. And when they get close enough to see

my face, I shall smile at them, and yell out in a

gravely voice, “Avast, Mateys!” Then, I’ll hoist

my sail full mast, and give ‘er all she’s got...”Arr!”

My kids will then remind me that we live in the

Midwest and are from a long line of landlubbers.

Besides, you were in the Army, Dad, not the Navy.”

“Okay then,” I’ll tell them, “Mount up! Last one to

the mess hall gets to spend a night in the brig...Arr!”

(I just love it when I get to mix my metaphors.)

Chris Hanch 1-8-17

A Case to be Made

Some will say it began with the index finger,

but it appears that this may be a bogus

assertion to claim. However, the feet we know,

did do what they were told as both of them

rested compliantly in place. At the time, the

appetite, it was said, arose from within and

demanded to be fed. Eventually, the rest of

the body submitted and laid down to rest.

The lone finger got all the others, the arms

and legs, instigated every moving part of the

body to comply in unison, lifting the blanket

up to cover the victim who then rolled over

and fell asleep. Now who is responsible, which

part of the anatomy is to blame? Although never

actually witnessed first hand by anyone, may it

please the court, we the prosecution find, while
scientifically plausible (albeit wholly circumstantial),

a natural act such as this, with a convincing

degree of certainty was not perpetrated by the
index finger, but points to the brain. It says, I
want, I need, and every able-bodied member
is sworn to obey.

Chris Hanch 11-7-17

This Life of Mine

With all

which has

been lost,

with all

which was

discarded

and left

behind,

with all

which was,

each and

everything

which is

no more,

is this life

of mine

not now,

but that

which was

before.

No more,

No more,

this life

of mine

not now,

but that

which was

before.

Chris Hanch 11-5-15

A Thought or Two for Today

A Thought or Two for Today

Got to thinking this somber gray 4^th day of November

in the year 2017—Had Mark Twain the technology 150

years ago that I have now, he may not have told us what

it was like Following the Equarter. We may have never

learned from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckle-

berry Finn. Had he the Internet, he may have been satisfied

staying at home, and never venturing out West to Nevada

and California. Then, Roughing It and The Celebrated Frog

of Calaveras County would have never leapt into our lives.

Had he a smart phone, instead of penning The Innocence

Abroad, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court

and Pudd’nhead Wilson, he may have decided to tell his

stories verbally and undocumented from the comfort of

his own home. Think of those and so much more he left

for future generations of readers to explore. Had he GPS,

he may have never navigated a wondrous Life on the

Mississippi, discovering fame and adopting the beloved

pen name, Mark Twain. Got to thinking, had he listened

with Bluetooth and watched cable TV incessantly, in his

day and age, what value would we place today on a name

like Samuel Clemens anyway? I do give kudos to the modest

amount of 21^st Century technology I possess today. That and

the writings of Mark Twain help to chase the overcast of this

gray November day away...Smiley-face emoji!

Chris Hanch 11-4-17 

Telephonic Technology Today

Today, I will call my son. With today’s

technological wizardry, I usually begin

with, “Where are you?” After all, with

all the telephonic mobility, he could be

almost anywhere. Even though I am

cellularly-equipped as well, he can

most assuredly assume that I am calling

him from my home, for I am unable

physically to roam very far from my usual

static and stationary place. And too, it costs

no more to call from a hundred miles away

than to communicate from next door. That’s

why I can afford to "ring" him up every day.

Oh, and by the way, that is to say, he has no

need for a phone which "rings" when a call

is made. There are programmable options

these days. You can respond to a lead-in

from your favorite tune, or some other

annoying, attention-getting noise which

alerts you to an incoming transmission.

Today, I will call my son as I do most every

day. I will begin our conversation pretty much

the same as always with, “Where are you?”

He may well tell me he’s in Timbuktu. And

what’s weird about that today, and the rapidly

advancing technology, I could possibly believe

what he’s telling me is true. One of these days

(and more than likely pretty damn soon), my

qualifying query will have to be: “Is that the

quaint bar and grill in Andover, Kansas or that

original ancient city in Mali, Africa?”

Chris Hanch 11-3-17

Imagining

Your very thoughts, sometimes it is

the words you choose to use, and

often your actions which create the

new worlds in which you live. You

are surrounded by the white noise

of happening. A simple thing such

as lifting a finger, putting the cup

to your lips, buttoning a blouse are

but a beginning. You remember the

horrors and joys, have retained all

the goodnesses and savageries in

the repository of the mind. And

it goes on, day after day, month

after month as the years pile on.

One day you awaken from the

dream you have already forgotten.

Kiss your loved one goodbye, and

repeat the same words you said

yesterday and the day before—

Let’s give this day another try.

It is a fool-hearty thing indeed to

imagine that nothing is happening.

On the way to work you listen to

Mendelssohn on the car radio;

Once in a while you wish you had

learned to play the violin as a child.

Chris Hanch 11-1-17