Something About Infirmities

My longtime companion, Apollo, is a

going-on-18-years Chihuahua, old and

gray like me. Over the years we have

been though thick and thin together.

I know, and so does he. Only difference

is that he looks at me and cannot explain.

I can see his arthritic pain growing on

him every day.

I myself, going-on 72-years, am afflicted

with the same disabling condition. I look

at Apollo and say, I feel your pain, old

friend.

Unlike you, however, I have this cane to

assist me in getting around. Needless to

say, I cannot explain to him either. Oh

well, regardless of our mutual infirmities,

we two shall continue to give our love and

support to one another as long as we’re

able to breathe. Only difference between

you and me I can see is that you were

born a son-of-a-bitch naturally; over time,

I had my choices, and willfully grew into

the decrepit son-of-a-bitch I turned out
to be.

Chris Hanch 10-7-18

Something About Praise

Everyone craves a little praise

now and again. It’s only human

nature to feel appreciated for

the way you look or for some-

thing exemplary you have said

or done. For me, who may feign

humility by blushing once in

awhile, but who generally does

not shy away from bestowed

good graces of the complimentary,

I must say, that hearkening back to

the 1960s and my good old Army

days, worthiness was best on display

when during routine inspection, my

locker was found to be, according

to military regulation, in satisfactory

condition. And, with an eagle-eyed

scrutinizing by the platoon sergeant,

notwithstanding, he would grunt

skeptically, “as you were,” while

walking out of the living

quarters with nothing more to say.

Praise be! It was a damned good

thing I took the time to spit-shine

my boots the night before.

Chris Hanch 10-6-18

That's the Way Things Grow

It’s funny, you know, when you think

about it, how things grow. There is

nary a sound when a grass blade

bursts its seed and shoots up from the

ground. Buds on the trees, while you

were focused elsewhere, transformed

into leaves, and the world became a

brighter shade of green. The baby

smiles and reveals a tooth which was

not visible yesterday. And before you

know it, kindergarten then college. Where

on Earth did all the time go? You discover

that first gray hair, and to your surprise

crows feet line the corners of you eyes.

Birds fly, and as far as you know, every

robin is a still a robin, the same as it was

yesterday, a hundred years ago. Bet you

can’t tell the minute, the hour, even the

date and time you grew old. That damn

pain in the knees just won’t go away.

It’s just one of a billion ways things tend

to grow. Subtle signs abound everywhere,

you know. And now it is ordained, never

again will you look at a blade of grass or a

leaf the same.

Chris Hanch 10-5-18

Something About You and Me

In a lifetime there are those days awash in grace,

and too some are tainted with the bitterness of
sour grapes. Likely, should we have survived
over time, you’ll have had yours and likewise I

have experienced mine. Life is filled with its
undeniable inevitability. We could compare notes
if we are of a mind, and pause for a moment to
take the time. The musical score today has been

arranged and the melody is being played. My
preference happens to be a Brahms’s Lullaby.
I shall, however, tuck that soothing piece under
my pillow and save it for later when I need a

remedy to soothe and hush me to sleep. For now,
a rousing rendition of Sibelius's Finlandia is what
I crave for an extra shot of energy to keep me
moving on through my day. In a lifetime such as

yours and with mine as well sometimes, we need
to review our collection of tunes and find the most
suitable to get us through. I see you’re using an
MP3 player; my music is hardwired in the hippo

campus. What’s that, you ask? Probably never
heard of Finlandia either, eh? That’s okay by me.
No, I don’t have all the latest technology. But as
you can see, I am more crusty, and a helluva lot

older than you.

Chris Hanch 10-4-18

Reflection

If you think about it, you’ll know

that cattle will be grazing in green

pastures somewhere. And there is

bound to be a feral cat, scraggly

and flee-infested, prowling the alley

ways for something to eat. Man,

with or without a plan, advances

and digresses with each and every

step he takes. Make no mistake,

roses may bloom sweetly in the

garden as sure as the weed seeks

a stranglehold to survive. The lucky

and well-maintained on average tend

to thrive. And the moon, no matter

how magnificent its shine, never

gives a hoot about which phase it’s

in, tethered dutifully by gravity to

Earth. If you think about yourself

waking today in your personal time

and place, you may decide to behave

differently knowing the mistakes you

made yesterday. It only takes a moment

to consider it all, you know. Oh, my

friends, I could tell you stories.

Chris Hanch 10-3-18

The I-70 Drive

My sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel

of my car. Well, this was a hell of a mess I found

myself in. Excuse me for ending that sentence in

a preposition, but it was a hell of a mess, believe

you me. I was driving I-70 from Denver to Kansas

City.

It was a dry and windy day, nothing unusual

meteorologically-speaking for Kansas in early

spring. I was driving alone with one eye on the

road. No depth perception, you understand.

A pesky cataract in my right eye had reduced

my vision to a blur.

Ahead of me, oh I’d estimate perhaps a few

hundred feet, a wall, an ominous reddish-brown

cloud of dust had blown across the road. I

reduced my speed and drove smack-dab into

a twilight zone of zero visibility. Could have

been mangled mess of rubber, glass and steel

mere inches ahead of me. Plain and simple,

I friggin’ couldn’t see!

Even 20-20 vision from both eyes couldn’t help

me now. Had I stopped, surely any vehicle following

me at a high rate of speed would have plowed into

my rear. And likely, I would have been compacted

between the mayhem ahead and a crushing blow

from the battering ram behind.

A hell of a fix to be sandwiched in between a rock

and a hard place, so to speak. Right there and then

could have been the end of me. And, dear reader,

this story may have either gone untold or perhaps

been passed along to you by a gal or guy who on

that particular day was luckier than I to survive.

Now, should you happen to be a native of Kansas,

I suppose there would be no better place to die. But

I’m native to Missouri, and mighty grateful to have

made it across the state line alive, even though at

the time I had only one good eye.

Chris Hanch 10-2-18

If Only to Believe

Tis the season. Daylight dwindles with

each passing day. Grasses are green yet

growing less and less. Out of earshot,

the ice caps are quietly melting. Beyond

sight and sound changes routinely abound.

One day mimics the rest, and the subtitles

are often too numerous to detect. Just

because we did not hear the branch crack

in the wind, did not see the flee on the

dog doesn’t mean the possibility never

was. A malignant cancer is detected too

late and fate is determined before a treat-

ment could be applied. A lie is still a lie

even though the fool should firmly believe.

The Earth is turning beneath our feet, my

friends, and our grasp of reality seems firm

as concrete. A blind man sees only that

which he is imagining.

Chris Hanch 10-1-18