Tabby Boy - Chapter Six

 

Chapter Six

You Can’t Go Home Again

Dear Ben and Ethyl (with a ‘y’),

 

Appreciation, admiration, adulation, adoration attachment, all the words of love I give to you. Two months have passed and yes it was your Tabby Boy you saw this morning, Yes I am alive. After my accident, I needed to find a new safe covered place to avoid the cold winter rain. I needed to cover my wounded body with a blanket of dried leaves to keep from freezing and to heal my painful wounds. I never saw my attacker, maybe a male raccoon. My memory of your love helped heal me.

You’ve heard, “You Can’t Go Home Again.” Well, It saddens me to say, I can’t come home again. I can’t come back to your doorstep. I can’t rest in the warm cozy winter house you bought me. I can’t curl up in the warm straw filled house. The scent of the attacker has ruined all my comforts. The scent of my attacker pervades my house, pervades your front steps, pervades the air!!! The scent keeps me going from house to house for some food, water and hopefully love. Maybe, the spring rainstorms can wash away that toxic pernicious scent.

Once again, I am a homeless stray tabby cat looking for appreciation, admiration, adulation, adoration, love. Meow, Meow, Meow! 

Veery truly yours,

Your stray cat Tabby Boy

Ethyl

March 2023

Re: Poet, Robert Frost

 

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

One of Frost's most popular poems and my favorite, "The Road Not Taken," can be interpreted in many ways and is often cited as a metaphor for making difficult decisions in life. 

Here is the final stanza of the poem:

"I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

These lines are particularly impactful to me because they reflect the Frost’s contemplative tone and suggest that the choices, we make in life can have a significant impact on our future. Additionally, the repetition of "I" emphasizes the Frost’s individuality and personal agency in choosing their path. As a writer, I appreciate the way Frost uses imagery and symbolism to explore complex themes in a simple yet profound way.

Georgia

When Leprechaun Met Children

 

When the Leprechaun met the children a little distance from their house, he raised his open right hand to them, which is the fairy form of greeting. The children froze in their tracks, unsure of what to do. They had heard stories about mischievous leprechauns who loved to play tricks on humans. 

But this leprechaun looked friendly enough. He wore a green suit and a matching hat with a shamrock on it. His beard was long and curly, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. He looked like a character straight out of a storybook. 

"Hello, children!" the leprechaun said in a cheerful voice. "What brings you to the forest today?" 

"We were just taking a walk," replied Sarah, the oldest of the three children. 

"A walk in the forest? How delightful!" exclaimed the leprechaun. "I love the forest. It's my home, you know." 

The children were surprised to hear this. They had always thought that leprechauns lived in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

"But don't you live in a pot of gold?" asked John, the middle child. 

The leprechaun laughed. "Oh, that's just a myth, my dear boy. We leprechauns are tricksters, but we're not greedy. Gold is just a material possession, and it doesn't bring true happiness. What brings true happiness is spending time with loved ones, exploring the world, and enjoying the beauty of nature." 

The children were amazed by the leprechaun's wisdom. They had never thought about happiness in that way before. 

"Thank you for teaching us that," said Emily, the youngest child. "We'll remember it forever." 

The leprechaun smiled. "You're welcome, my dear. Now, I must be on my way. But before I go, I have a gift for each of you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out three small clovers. "These are magical clovers that will bring you luck and happiness. Keep them close to your heart, and they'll always guide you." 

The children thanked the leprechaun and said goodbye as he disappeared into the forest. They held the clovers tightly and felt a warmth spreading through their hearts. They knew that they had just met a special creature who had taught them a valuable lesson about life. And they couldn't wait to share it with their friends and family.

Georgia

Leprechaun

 

I’m looking for a Leprechaun
With the huge Pot of Gold 
He’s hiding and playing Tricks in 
Queens Library
from what I’ve been told 
He doesn’t drink coffee 
Only a Pot O’ Tea
If you see the Queens Library Leprechaun 
Please give him some Irish Soda Bread from me!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

McManus 
2023

Awakening

 

In Kafka’s story Metamorphosis, Grega Samsa starts out as a man and changes into a large bug. In my story, I would prefer to liken my change to a caterpillar metamorphosing or awakening into a beautiful monarch butterfly. My awakening applies to my positive self- image and sense of self, my makeover.

I was a volunteer on the Board of the Friends of Kew Gardens Hills library.  The Board dwindled to three members when two moved and sadly, one passed away. This left Helene, Trudy and me. Helene was the president and assumed all the major responsibility. Trudy had an important role writing and arranging the Board’s Newsletter. My role as treasurer was ludicrous since our Board’s math never resembled the financial math Central Library accounting department seemed to come up with. Our Friends Board held a monthly meeting which turned into a social meeting between Trudy and Helene. I was virtually invisible and sat at these meetings angry, sulking and hurt. I felt my absence would not even be noticed, so at one point, I rose, walked to the door and announced I was quitting the board. Helene convinced me to stay with the Board. She announced she was moving shortly, and we would need a new president. Trudy, as very busy volunteer at the American Ballet and would never accept more responsibility. Much to my dismay, I became the new president. In the past, I had never had a role as a leader of anything.

From my angry sulking role, I assumed a major positive force on our Board. I blossomed; I was dynamic; I was an authority figure who instinctively had leadership skills unbeknownst to me; a complete makeover. My first undertaking was to find other people using our library to come and join our Board. We quickly grew from two Board members to ten. My style as a leader was to share the limelight and to shower praise on my Board members for any and all their efforts; this Friends Board functioned as a democracy.  I emailed my members a reminder of the upcoming meetings and requested any agenda suggestions. Each member at the meeting was handed a copy of the agenda. As a Friends Board, we became actively involved in increasing the number of Friends of Kew Gardens Hills Library and shortly doubled the dues paying membership. We used this money, as well as a $5000 endowment from our councilman to sponsor lectures, exercise classes, musical presentations and arts and craft workshops. Our workshops were so popular that we had to turn people away. The Community Affairs Manager at Central Library considered us one of her favorite Friends Boards and began to attend our Board meetings. The staff at our Library saw our Friends Board as such a positive force in the library that they became involved in attending our monthly meetings. They honored our recommendations and suggestions. We were a team.

More importantly, my Board members appreciated me and we appreciated each other. My role as president of the Friends Board of the Kew Gardens Hills Library was a labor of love. From the insignificant role I had previously played, I thrived in my metamorphosis and my awakening from the lowly caterpillar to the beautiful monarch butterfly. 

Ethyl H.

Butterfly

 

In the summer sun, I once saw

A butterfly with wings so raw

It danced along the gentle breeze

And filled my heart with such sweet ease

Its wings like delicate lace

Fluttered with such effortless grace

As if they were alive, with mind and will

To follow the butterfly's every thrill

I watched it for hours on end

As it danced around like a friend

Its movements so fluid and free

That it filled my heart with such sweet glee

In that moment, I felt like the butterfly

Flying high up in the sky

With no worries or cares to weigh me down

Just the beauty of nature all around

That butterfly moment stayed with me

A memory I will always see

It taught me to let go and be free

To live life with such sweet simplicity.

Georgia P.

MY COMFY CUSHIONED CORNER

 

Some men are lucky enough to live in a large old wood framed house replete with many nooks and crannies, negative inverted undersides of staircases or even an overlooked or underutilized room, which without too much effort or family bickering can be secured and transformed into a comfortable refuge from the onslaught of chores, responsibilities and the necessary decision making of everyday life. I am not that fortunate soul, living in an apartment and therefore I have receded to the farthest, most out of the way quiet reclusive corner of the living room remotely removed from the onslaught of daily traffic, with my caddy cornered comfy recliner augmented by an end table on either side, holding pens and pencils, coasters and drinks, headphones a Bluetooth speaker and current magazines.

            A small makeshift bookcase created from an old wooden bench joyfully and faithfully holds coveted current books for me. A brightly lit optimistic lamp generously blesses me with its illumination. In the gap behind the bookcase and the wall is nestled a portfolio for art supplies. A 50-millimeter ammo can, chocked full of innocuous art supplies  ready to launch at a minutes notice lies near my feet along with unused dusty bored barbells intended to be used at intervals for the retention of physical strength.

            My corner does little to compare with the wonderful abode of Mr. Badger, which I was fortunate enough to be invited into after running into that most famous badger of all time, while hiking in the Wild Wood of rural England. We had a serendipitous meeting in the forest and after some small talk during which we found many common interests we repaired to his digs for tea and crumpets and a lively discussion on a wide eclectic spectrum of subjects. It was a stimulating and fascinating experience and one that I will not soon forget.

Jim -March 23’

Judgmental Co-Worker

 Re: March 4 - "At Home with Mr. Badger"

Assignment:

Mr. Badger is never, ever judgmental.  As he listened to his friends, "he never said, "I told you so!" or "You should have done so-and-so!"   Or, you should not have done something else."  Do you know anyone who is the opposite of Mr. Badger, and who is always saying such things?  If yes, share with us a short piece about this character and the effect on you of this person's mode of speech.

Yes, I can think of a person who is the complete opposite of Mr. Badger. Her name is Karen, and she's always ready with a judgmental comment. Karen was a co-worker of mine, and I have to say, her mode of speech can be really draining. 

Karen has an opinion on everything, and she's not afraid to share it. Whether it's a project we worked on, a colleague's outfit, or even someone's choice of lunch, Karen always has something negative to say. She's quick to point out flaws and mistakes, and she loves to say things like, "I told you so" or "I knew that would happen." 

The effect of Karen's speech on me, and I suspect on others too, is that it creates an atmosphere of tension and negativity. It's hard to work on a project or even have a conversation with her because you're constantly waiting for the next judgmental comment. I've found that I tend to avoid Karen whenever possible, which is a shame because she's actually quite knowledgeable in her field. 

I've also noticed that Karen's negative attitude seems to be contagious. When she's around, it's easy to start feeling down and pessimistic. On the other hand, when Mr. Badger is around, I feel uplifted and encouraged. His non-judgmental attitude creates a space where people feel safe to share their thoughts and ideas without fear of being criticized. 

In conclusion, having a judgmental person like Karen in the workplace can be challenging, but it also highlights the importance of having people like Mr. Badger around. His non-judgmental attitude is a breath of fresh air and a reminder that we can choose to be positive and supportive in our interactions with others. 

PS: Karen was not her real name. 

Georgia P

Scandal at Cherry Tree Hollow

 

Old Man Winter truly enjoys the misery that he inflicts on humans, as he does not feel the cold himself! He forces the plant and animal worlds to grovel at his feet and to alter their behavior to survive his seasonal temper tantrum.  He is a mean and cantankerous old codger!

I believe it was the winter of 33’ and the cold weather had already been encroaching for some time. The squirrels in the forest behind my apartment had already used a considerable portion of their larder. While I was looking down and observing the forest from my apartment window, I noticed four squirrels all coming from different directions and converging at a large mushroom. Each squirrel had a satchel swung over his shoulder containing nuts presumably from their personal reserves. I wondered what the purpose of was their strange behavior. Were they meeting there to reinforce social bonds and support each other emotionally at this dreary alienating time of the year?

            One of the squirrels was a rather large dark grey rotund specimen. I named him Chunky. He carried a large satchel of nuts greater than that of the other three smaller scrawnier squirrels. The remaining three participants were all slim and included a red, a brown and a black squirrel. Chunky proceeded to pull out a deck of cards from his satchel and continued to shuffle and then deal out the cards to each participant, including himself.

I had read in Scientific American that squirrels were capable of remembering over 3000 hiding places for their nuts each winter. A deck of 52 cards would be child’s play for these furry little gamblers, although knowing the other players card denominations would certainly be of the greatest advantage. As I peered out of my window each day at high noon when this furry congregation assembled, Chunky’s satchel and waistline both continued to increase in girth. His bag contained more and more nuts each day while the other three players had less nuts in their bags and their owners appeared scrawnier. I observed that acorns seemed to be of little value as they were bandied about with seeming disregard, followed in ascending worth by Walnuts, Hazelnuts and Brazil nuts. The most valuable of all were Cashews.

            One day I cracked my window open slightly as it was warm outside, and I noticed that as the team assembled, a small unobtrusive bird also attended the proceedings, flying from tree to tree after each hand had been drawn and covertly covered while coveting the knowledge of each other participant’s cards.  The three malnourished participants were by this point playing for their lives and the fur hung from their emaciated carcasses. The bird would sing out a few notes after landing on a branch somewhere above and behind each of the scrawny players. It finally dawned on me that the bird was telling Chunky, in some previously agreed upon code, each scrawny player's hand. None of the Marks realized that they were being scammed! It was fortunate that Johnny Appleseed, John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt had not lived to see this disgrace after all their hard work to preserve wildlife!

            When the game ended as always, Chunky was the big winner. The other dejected players staggered away with empty satchels disillusioned by their bad luck, and I followed Chunky with my binoculars as he struggled along dragging his booty. The criminal conspiracy reconvened at Cherry Tree Hollow where the fat greedy squirrel and the covert bird met to divvy up the profits! What a disgrace! What an outrage! I was visibly enraged at this level of rodent corruption comparable in its entropic fall from grace to the sleaziest backstreet underground casino in Shanghai!

            The next day as the furry team of gamblers assembled along with the feathered spy, I quietly opened my window and waited until Chunky dealt the cards and each emaciated player picked them up.

“Look, look,” I yelled and pointed with my outstretched arm to the bird.

“That bird is reading your cards and telling your rotund friend there what they are!”, I exclaimed.

“Oh, Nuts!” whispered Chunky to himself.

The squirrels were dazed and confused at first in their malnourished state but quickly figured out that they had been duped and all three angrily pounced on Chunky biting and clawing at him as he tried to escape. Chunky finally fought them off and staggered away leaving his satchel of booty behind. When the three smaller squirrels finally calmed down and collected themselves, they divided the bag of nuts into three equal portions and after saying their goodbyes headed home for a better meal than they had eaten in some time. All three agreed that gambling was a vice that they wagered would be better to avoid in the future.

I would need to keep my window shut and hunker down for some time as Chunky, that Moriarity of the rodent world, now had a vendetta and a potential hit out on me by one or more of his rabid subordinates!

Jim March 23’

Starlings and Sparrows

 

In the concrete jungle of New York City, where the winter winds bite with a fierce and unforgiving chill, there are two feathered friends who bravely face the elements: the starlings and the sparrows. These winged wonders have adapted to the urban landscape, making their homes among the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets and quiet urban blocks.  

But even the toughest of birds need sustenance to survive the harsh winter months, and that's where the bread comes in. Oh, the bread! It's like manna from heaven for these hungry birds. They flock to my window every morning, swooping down with lightning speed to snatch up every crumb of the soft, doughy goodness. 

Watching them is a sight to behold. The starlings, with their iridescent feathers shimmering in the winter sun, perform daring aerial acrobatics as they compete for the choicest bits of bread. And the sparrows, those tiny dynamos of energy, seem to multiply before your very eyes as they hop and flutter about, their beady little eyes gleaming with excitement. 

It's a scene that would make even the most jaded New Yorker stop in their tracks and marvel at the wonder of nature. For in this city of concrete and steel, where the hustle and bustle never stops, the starlings and sparrows remind us that even in the darkest of winters, there is still beauty and joy to be found.

Georgia