Neanderpundit

As my language became salty early on in my life, (you can’t work in the steel mills without learning a few things) I am capable of blistering paint, if need be.

Around my daughter, however, I still censor myself. Oh, it’s not like she won’t learn those words, I’m sure she already knows more than I do- but it’s not my style.

it wasn’t dad’s style either, he never used an off color word anywhere near my mother or sister, nor me until I was about twenty.

I know how hard it must have been, in retrospect, but at the time I just thought he was incapable of operating the english language.

I remember dad working on our old Comet. it was red, and rusty as hell, but it ran like a top. it had lost a rear wheel bearing and dad had it up on an assortment of blocks and bricks as he sweated off the old bearing and beat a new one on with a piece of copper grounding rod.

I sat and watched him intently, and he put on quite the performance. Lacking the resources to have someone install a $3 bearing, he did it himself, though it took him the better part of a saturday and he probably hurt for a week afterwards.

At one point, after having hit himself on the meaty part of the hand for the fourteenth time, he leaned on the car, which fell off the bricks it was teetering on, pouring oil all over his toolbox and spilling his beer, he exclaimed “Gott… (looking at me he stopped himself).. blast…. you son of…. da…. (starting the words or phrases and being unable to finish them)hey, why don’t you go see if mom needs any help with dinner?” Knowing full well mom needs help with dinner about as much as monkeys need help flinging poo, I took the hint and vacated the premesis, wherupon Dad (once I got out of earshot) tore into the car, the toolbox, the oil, the axle, the bearing, the beer, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the planets, calling them everything in the book and a few things he made up besides, removing the remains of the paint from the left rear quarter panel.

he did get the bearing in, anyway. And we drove that car for another several years, thousands of miles.

Two of my dearest old friends, about whom I have been concerned for a while:

It was so nice to hear your voice.

And because of the question you always ask me every time we talk, I give you The Power of The Dog by Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie–
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find–it’s your own affair–
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone–wherever it goes–for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long–
So why in–Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

The Power of the Dog
by
Rudyard Kipling

Have about a third of the stump out.

Discoved that the chainsaw don’t run so well out of gas.
Took the whole bar etc. apart and sharpened it. And then it wouldn’t cut worth a tinkers damn.

Backwards.

Swapped and it worked fine.

Resharped on the saw, put it away, tomorow will get gas and hopefully finish.

bugger of a job in this heat.