Hello everyone, everywhere,

Hey, this week has been a complete turnaround. I walked into the studio this morning with the guys. Stephanie and Tom were in front of me and when they stepped aside, I could see my beautiful drums. They are awesome; I was not. I’ve been playing electronic drums for three years. They’re almost backwards to an acoustic set, so this is an adjustment. A loving adjustment, but an adjustment still the same.

Michelle and I are having a great night putting out this new story. Unfortunately for Dean, we’re laughing at him because he’s sick and he’s wearing his hood in the house. Har har on that one. But I brought him chocolate and I’m hoping he’ll be a bit happy.

On the other hand, for myself, I’ve got a clean bill of health. Aside from being a couple of notches off centre, I’m healthy as a horse. Pretty much. Give or take…you know, fibro…stuff like that. But nothing to worry about.

Okay, enough of that garbage. It hasn’t snowed. I’m still smiling. And so is Michelle. And even Dean, (even though he’s sick and wearing his hood).

Aside from that, I guess everybody’s starting to get ready for you know what. And that’s all the thought’s I’ve got today. My eyes are doing better. There will be a new picture soon with my new glasses on. I’m just not ready yet.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. I want to present a new story this week. A little tale called The Lesson. Enjoy. And learn.


Man on Bench

Bernard A. Cromwell, of no fixed address, walks at night. Nowhere in particular. Downtown pavement mostly.This night though, is different. Bernard just keeps walking until he ends up at the entrance to O’Myer Park.

Bernard A. Cromwell is a wary man. He has to be. If you knew all the people who have done him wrong, you would be wary too. (If you aren’t, you’ll get blamed. Oh yes you will).

Now Bernard likes the night. So a walk in the park with lights on the bridge and such makes him smile. (Sort of).

He decides to think some things out. Get all of his water buffaloes in a circle, if you get the meaning.

As Bernard walks through this majestic park, he has one thing only on his mind. How has he become this sad sorry lot of a fellow?

Old Bernie thinks about losing Debbie Flatts. That guy Melvin stole her from me for sure back in ’68. All Bernard A. can conjure is, Oh yeah. I came to Debbie’s parents’ house for her mother’s birthday. It was a killer. I was drunk and wore my pants on my head. And she dumped me! Can you believe it?

While bopping his head on a tree, Bernard thinks, In hindsight, maybe swimming on the dinner table might…just might is where I’m going with this…be wrong?

Now don’t get me started on my boys. They humiliated me on my greatest football play ever. I mean ever.

Bernard thinks, How could they laugh at a great run? Forty-two yards to the end zone. Yahoo! And wasn’t touched once. Clearing his head a little, he remembers why he never got tackled–he went the wrong way. Oops! Bernie’s done thinking of that tale. (Lousy 1968). 

As he makes his way home, Bernard A. Cromwell is thinking on this night’s events. Well he thinks, Maybe…and I’m saying only maybe…I learned a lesson.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson

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