ROW 80 POST 30 – GIVING THANKS

I’m pretty much grateful all the time. I don’t make a big deal out of it because I have a shit-ton of stuff to be grateful for. The fact that I’m not lying in a pauper’s grave some where is a big reason for gratitude right there. I know that in this world and this time there are so many damaged souls that there are cries of gratitude going out and up to Who So Ever is running this here place, that my little bleats of thanks will go unheard.

Let the douchealites give thanks for the many contributions made to Without Walls for the Thanksgiving and Christmas Season. Let Trinity put up their Satellite café that is less than 2 miles from the first one and totally unnecessary. Give thanks for that. I ain’t giving thanks at all for the supreme waste of money and look-at-me-ism that seems to be part and parcel of so many of these projects. I do give thanks that Metropolitan Ministries has continued to feed and assist so many homeless families and people who do need help.

I’m happy about the fact that we get to feed a few of the guys from the ALF who have helped JC over this past year with small chores; it was his idea. Nothing big, just a thank you. There are lots of little things we’re grateful for and we’re grateful every day. When just about everything you’ve had has been stripped from you, either by circumstance, or by the system and you start over at age 55 or 65 and it’s a monumental struggle, complete with setbacks? Every minor victory is momentous and you savor it.

We taste every day like a fine wine and we enjoy every moment of it. We’ve made mistakes, in our new life; we got a bit too generous and had to back up on that. Not every one looks at life the way we do, and guess what? We do live in the ‘hood! For all of my bad-assed-ness, and it is real, I can’t do shit about dishonesty, until after the fact. We are still not geniuses. I know! Right? But we’re careful on our fixed incomes and we enjoy what we have and we share what we can. We love and honor one another and we’re kind to those who deserve it. If you don’t deserve it, stay out of my way. As I told the drunk, who kept asking me for money, at the grocery store as I moved away; “I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid FOR you.”

But, no has one died… yet. Moving on, we have a kitty. She is the sweetest little thing and just perfect. JC has never had a cat before. Only dogs, so he was a bit mystified by her behavior for a while. I, having been around cats my entire life, became “All Things Catsidered,” or “Cat-Sittered,” if one is feeling pun-nish, which I generally avoid; it being too easy and dumb-ish.

So, he asks lots of questions about cats in general. But, he’s really in tune with her and of course, she’s got him trained. She would prefer that he go outside while she eats and after 50 times of here running back and forth from the kitchen to the front porch, they agree on wherever she decides. Today, she ate in the living room.

This is the Jackson, Michigan State Correctional Facility. Until recently, the largest walled prison in the world. The road running from bottom center to mid-left hand side is I-94. When I had to drive past that in the 70s and 80s to places like Kalamazoo, or Chicago. I drove at 100 mph past that bastard. It seems to go on for about a million miles.

Anyway, last night, the Queen of Sheba ate in the kitchen while I cooked and then again in the bedroom, while we ate, watching “Prison Break,” a highly entertaining show that brings back all your favorite well-written con stereotypes, via authors Tennessee Williams and Stephen King (interestingly, a huge fan of "Prison Break"), of felons as southern-psychopaths, super-smart-caring cons, mobbed-up con-who’s-in-a-jam, and my favorite, via author Richard Price, the confused-white-rapper who’s a whip-smart thief. It’s entertaining. I just don’t know how true to life it is. I have yet to see these mokes break out a game of 10,000 or pinochle and all the ex-cons I knew in the homeless shelter played those games. Fought over them, too.

Courtesy of PicMonkey which allowed me to make this somewhat viewable. I take hideous pictures. Tremors and no perspective eyesight make for some really interesting photos. That and the fact that there's no overhead light made this a real adventure.

Anyway, Mama decided after supper or dinner, or elevensies or twelvesies that it was time for sleepsies, so sleep she did, for about 4 hours on the bed. She is becoming more relaxed and calm. We’re happy; she’s happy. It’s something to be thankful for.