The Games We Play

Ah, the games we play. Each morning before my feet

hit the floor, I say a little prayer to that Higher Power

of mine ruminating in the brain...Lord, grant me patience

today (a virtue for the most part which has been sorely

lacking in me from the get-go). Nonetheless, Wait and

See is a patience game I play with myself every day.

Notwithstanding, I need to give myself some credit, for

it has been the lifelong psyche method I have employed

which has successfully gotten me this far from meager

beginnings to where I happpen to be—creepy, crawling

ever so slowly, closing in on age seventy-three. I suppose

this patience of mine may have been exercised on much

better.

Chris Hanch 9-8-19

Torture of the Day...Who Shall Pay?

Is a crucifix around the neck a help

or a hindrance? Nails hammered

into wood hold the planks together.

Clouds are imagined dragons flying

in the sky. No one cut the grass this

week, and the neighborhood escaped

noise-free. If I were you then can we

deduce that you might as well be me?

Statements have been made, and inter-

rogatories posed. Indeed, there are

choices to be made. Pick and choose,

cantaloupe or watermelon? Rib-eye

steaks are on sale at Price Chopper

today. Someone has got to pay. Com-

mercial space on the airwaves are not

broadcast for free. Confused? No one

said this was going to be easy. Watch

this space.

Chris Hanch 9-7-19

Happenings Today

It’s a wide and wondrous world out there, so

they say. And although disabilities hamper my

wanderings, confining me in place, I shall once

again invite in the light-speed media of happen-

ings. Still, I get to pick and choose good over

evil which tend to grace or invade our space each

day. I have selected my adventures to take place

through an audio tape as I ruminate to Roughing

It by Mark Twain. And too by voice command,

I shall direct my Echo to orchestrate music which

inspires and invigorates. Alexa, the movie sound

track from Zorba the Greek, please...Let’s play!

Chris Hanch 9-6-19

What I've Come to Realize

Think of what it takes just to sustain our

lives on any given day. How large does

a gnat have to be in order to breath? Does

the mouse know what it needs to eat in

order to maintain an acceptable weight?

And does the butterfly or walrus care if

the rent is paid? There is a stand of trees

in the Amazon aflame at this moment in

time. How soon will the oxygen I breathe

dissipate to an unacceptable level? Ever

consider what it takes to keep ships afloat

and on course crossing the sea? What if

Bremerhaven is not there when the ship

arrives? What if the gnat dies in flight?

Does it matter, does the butterfly, mouse

or walrus really care? Why then should I?

Will I find out about that last tree I needed

to survive going up in smoke before the news

reaches me? Lately, I have come to realize

it has become more difficult getting around.

Could be that Bremerhaven isn’t in a place

where it’s expected to be. Perhaps I should

have paid the rent on time.

Chris Hanch 9-5-19

My Bad

Forgive me, I may have written about this

incident before, but at least I know it has

been quite a while since I had done so.

Forgive me, I have lived so many years now

that the fog of forgetfulness has descended

over my memory.

Anyhow, I was working for Kinko’s, the copy

company. And, I was helping a customer oper-

ate one of the self-serve duplicating machines.

You insert the counter device into this slot;

lift this flap and place your original on the

glass; press the number of copies you need.

And viola! Magic. And, nothing. I seemed to

have forgotten to press, start. A fellow co-

worker came over to assist.

You neglected to push the print button, she

pointed out to me. And you didn’t do that

because…? She questioned me sarcastically.

A short pause of reflection on my part, and I

sheepishly responded, My bad, because I’m

stupid?

I had been known to make mistakes of omis-

sion before. Forgive me for not remembering

exactly when or where those things happened.

I do know, however, for the most part, copy

machines and the likes of stupid me were

not involved. In dark caverns guano happens.

Chris Hanch 9-4-19

The Shopping Spree

After 2-weeks staying at my place for free

Luis said to me, let’s go grocery shopping.

It’s about time I paid you back for your kind-

ness. Money is due today on my food stamp

account. Let’s go to Albertson's and get some

good stuff to eat. I was relieved to say the least,

for my own personal funds were running low.

Potatoes? You like Idaho or red, he asked,

dropping a five-pound sack of each into our

cart. The broccoli looks good. How about some

of that? Through the produce we went and

then on to the meats. A couple of steaks, some

center-cut pork chops and boneless chicken

breasts. Oh and Italian sausage, got to have

a pound of that. I’m going to fix us the best

meal we’ve had in weeks, Luis said to me with

a big old grin of satisfaction on his face. And

on we went through this isles, stuffing our cart

full of all the necessities—bread, peanut butter

and jelly, potato chips, tuna, canned salmon and

the like. No expense to be spared today. This is

the way I like to shop, diversity and quality, no

holds barred, nothing but the best for you and

me, he said excitedly. Then with our shopping

frenzy complete, we headed for the checkout.

Luis, jubilant as hell, was pleased with himself

being able to contribute to our meager existence.

But then a look came over him. He was suddenly

struck with a glumness of thought, and looking

askance at me asked, today is Wednesday, the

first, isn’t it? No, Tuesday, the 30^th, I told him.

Damn! Not working, I seem to have lost all

track of time. My food stamp account isn’t

available until tomorrow. Leave the cart, and

let’s get the hell out of here...vamonos! No big

deal, he figured. We can go to Trader Joe’s to-

morrow. They have a better selection of steaks

anyway, Luis said shrugging his shoulders non-

chalantly. We still have some of those Ramen

Noodles left in the pantry, I believe...

And I was thinking to myself, son-of-a-bitch!

Chris Hanch 9-3-19

History all over Again

What is it like to be old? Should anyone who isn’t

old care to know, I’d tell them, it is to know you have

learned your lesson well—And not only is there so

much you still don’t know, but now it’s too late to

even care. Your body and mind tell you what you

don’t know can no longer hurt you. History has

been repeated over and over again, so the results

of that, good and bad, have become ingrained in

your brain. The world is as it always has been and

shall inevitably repeat over and over again. Oh well,

what the hell, you have seen Gone with the Wind,

the Wizard of Oz and Casablanca a million times.

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Toto, we’re not in

Kansas anymore. Of all the gin joints in all the world...

Well, young ones, hyperbole is, we older folks have

seen and heard it all a million times before. The only

surprise is that many of us have thus far somehow

managed to survive. You can quote me as having said

that. And for effect, I have decided to add an extra line,

giving me a last-ditch reasoning to rhyme. Even this

adroit chicanery I have employed before.

Chris Hanch 9-1-19