[Note this blog’s use of words: Words used in quotes are the speakers, not mine.]
I had to wait to get groceries, so I went to the Safeway Starbucks to while away a bit of time. Josephine was paging Robert for the second time. She needed his approval to add protein powder to a drink.
The lady in front of me told me she needed protein powder to keep her weight up. Otherwise she would only be 98 pounds.
When Robert didn’t show up after the third page, Josephine gave the lady the drink with the protein thrown in for free.
When Robert did show up, Josephine told Robert what she had done. Then the fireworks exploded. Josephine and Robert called each other by the n-word. Josephine told Robert that he would have to explain the discrepancy tomorrow, because she wouldn’t be working.
They called each other “Nigger” loudly enough that anybody within normal earshot could hear them.
Apparently the time machine* still exists in Bisbee.
* The Mule Mountain Tunnel was completed in 1959. There is a legend that the tunnel acts as a time machine in which things are as they were when the tunnel was completed.
What was happening in ‘historic downtown Winslow’?
Nothing, except for the statue of a guy with a guitar and a rotation of Eagles songs playing over load-speakers. There were several tourists taking pictures of the statue from the center of the street. The tourists ignored cars coming down the street until the last second.
Interesting that the mark of this ‘historic’ downtown is a early seventies pop song. Which is more historic, Route 66 or “Take it Easy”?
An extreme archetype of Winslow is the boarded-up old building near the center of town.
The other morning I had been sitting at the coffee shop drinking coffee. I left to go home. As I left, I stopped to greet Michael, a troubled soul. Earlier he had been speaking of being treated for PTSD at the VA.
Michael was talking with the local Green Party candidate for mayor. The Green Party candidate had been walking his dog along the sidewalk. The Green Party candidate was touting the Green Party agenda. The Green Party candidate asked Michael which branch of the military he had been in.
Michael replied “The Marines. I’m a trained killer.”
The Green Party candidate said “Thank you for your service to our country.” and he continued walking his dog down the sidewalk.
This morning I was sleeping, and Cheri was reading.
In a dream, I woke up to a phone call from Prince Charles.
I would probably have forgotten my dream except that Cheri felt the bed shaking and then saw my shoulders bouncing and wanted to know what was happening in my dream.
Usually I stay sleeping, Cheri asks me what my dream was, and I reply “What dream?” But this time since I was still sort of in my dream I was able to tell her the following:
Conversation between Prince Charles and me.
Charles: Happy Birthday
Roger: Thank you [long pause]
Charles: Are you going to go swimming today?
Roger: [still dreaming] No we don’t have a pool.
Charles: [aside] Who is the birthday boy?
I wondered – How’d he get my number? Another problem with phone surveilance?
PS from Cheri
When Roger tried to tell me what he was dreaming, I at first could not understand what he was saying since he was still laughing through tears he then explained to me that Prince Charles called to wish him happy birthday. I was already laughing so when I was laughing until I cried, I decided that it was a grand way to start our morning in Boulder City, NV.
This morning I was having coffee with Pat. Michael walked into the coffee shop, put-together as usual. However, today he has bloody marks on his neck and face as if he had cut himself shaving. [Oops, he has a full beard.] But I won’t ask him about it. If he comes my way I will greet him as any other day.
He was wearing a green T-shirt with a Harley-like skull-like Marine logo with lettering that said Marine Recon.
Apparently Pat and Michael have started a conversation about this before. Pat asked Michael where he got his training.
Michael: Fort Bragg, North Carolina. [So far, so good]
Pat: What did you do?
Michael: [His mood darkens.] I don’t like to talk about it. It triggers my PTSD. I don’t like being questioned about that. I told a woman at the VA not to question me. “Call the police if you are going to question me.”
Pat: I wasn’t questioning you.
Michael: [Tone of voice gets deeper and more ominous.] Yes, you were.
A friend that he was with asked Michael to come up to the counter to order his breakfast. Michael and friends got their food and went outside. Disaster averted. I remarked to Pat that the conversation was uncomfortable. Just after our conversation took a natural turn to something else, in walked Michael. He walked over to Pat.
Michael: I am totally disabled, have been for 25 years. Prisoner of War camps do that to you.
Michael took out his wallet, and took out a card. I couldn’t see the card clearly, but it wasn’t a normal business card. It looked to be more like a credit card, complete with a magnetic strip.
Michael: [to Pat] Here, take this.
Pat: No. I believe you.
Michael put the card back into his wallet. Without another word he leaves the coffee shop.
Michael is an imposing figure. He is very tall, has gray hair, a beard, and dresses for success. When the sun is just at the right angle at this time of year people are often backlit. When Michael is backlit his uniform gray hair creates a halo.
Both Michael and I are afflicted with diseases. Both of our diseases cause dis-ease, both for ourselves and others. Michael and I once blocked the door of a coffee shop as he fished in his pocket for a medal that he wanted to show me. Finally he found the medal, and showed it to me. I had no idea of what it was, nor its significance.
I said that I needed my glasses to read the writing on the medal. But once I had my glasses I still could not read the writing. Michael said, “I can’t read it either.” I was dumbfounded, what was the significance of the medal?
At this point Michael explained to me that it was a medal of Michael the Archangel, that he had obtained in New Orleans.
There are two laws in Arizona, as an automobile driver, that you must follow: you must obey the speed limit in a school zone, and you must give way to pedestrians in a crosswalk.
I reached the crosswalk at about the same time a woman reached the other end of the crosswalk. Despite the Arizona laws, for safety sake, I always look both ways before entering a crosswalk. In this case the woman apparently saw me checking both ways, and assumed that I recognized her. When we met at the middle of the street, I had uneasy feeling that she was going to hug me. Unfortunately my intuition was right in this case; she attempted to give me a full-frontal hug.
I am a bit squeamish about full-frontal hugs from strangers in general, even more so in the middle of a crosswalk in the middle of the street. I made a deft move, deft for me at least, and managed to escape with a quarter hug and a pat on her shoulder.
I got to the other side of the street without further incident. Take nothing for granted.