SOMETIMES WE ALL NEED HELP

Hello everyone, everywhere,

You know, I’ve always lived my life taking care of myself. Then I got hurt and I went as long as I could by myself, and then finally I had to go for help. And boy, there was lots of help. I didn’t realize that.  And the positive people I chose to associate my life with keep me on an even keel. My new little castle is allowing me to do what I haven’t been doing for a long time: writing. I’m hoping it will be an interesting winter.

Michelle is very happy now. She’s out running again and she ran with her sons in Edmonton. She got all three of them to run 5K with her. She waited at the finish line for an hour and a half, but they made it. They’re good boys.

Well, that’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Dillon and Sue Anne Gibbers’ Home of How to Be a Lumberjack in Three Lessons and Save a Tree Folks Emporium, all sort of bunched together in Karl Fibbons garage. You’ll find us in a flash. Our place is on the corner of Revyourtruckup Road and Library Way, next to Phil and Roxy Blatt’s. If you see furniture flying outside, footnote…Phil says Roxy gets real mad playing the bingo.

CHARLIE’S LOT

Grandfather and grandson playing catch

Our tale begins as most do. (What I mean is we meet the star of the story). Well first, because I’m telling the story, that makes me a star too. And my name is Merlin Speal of the Odette Falls Speals.

But I regret. No that’s not it. Rearrange. I believe not. Oh yes, it’s I digress. So anyhoo, let’s get on with it.

The person this tale is about is Charlie Bundle. Now Charlie appears to be from Dusty Falls, though we don’t hold that against him. Too much. All Charlie wanted was to be a pro ball player. He’d strut down Main Street telling anyone who would listen, “I’m gonna be a ball player and make tons of money. Don’t you know that?”

Years went by and Charlie was starting to age. (It really happens, so they say). Absolutely no way was Charlie Bundle ready to give up.

Over time, his spitball had no spit. The fastball? Well let’s just say the air popped on that bubble.

In remembering, no that’s wrong. I meant rigor mortis. (Oh fleece my shorts). The word I’m looking for is retrospect. (That’s a hard word to remember, doncha know!)

Time kept ticking.

One day, Charlie got asked to coach a kids’ league. Sure he would. I mean, why not?

The first day out in the field Charlie looked the team over and folks, get this, he says to himself, (or so the tale I’m telling goes), Charlie, some dreams are best left to float away.

Old Charlie says to the kids, “If anyone out here doesn’t want to be a big star you can go home right now!” (I believe Charlie just couldn’t or wouldn’t let go). Not one guy left. And why would they? They were only eight years old.

Not a concern or understanding among them. So ends the tale of Charlie’s lot…in life.

That’s all.

(Never ever give up).

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By jamesghutcheson

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