Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment. ~Henry David Thoreau
Silence is the beginning of his revenge. He had the right to remain silent.
You might think, would be tough to be a hermit in a gated golfing community.
Ten years, he’d been here. Not a friend. None. No dinner guests. Ever. No bingo, no cart, no pale plaid Bermuda shorts.
The old man might have gone overboard. Even the grandkids didn’t visit.
He exuded a certain menace. Knew that. His best defense mechanism.
The old man had been the only member of his unit NOT offered a re-enlistment bonus. First Sergeant explained it, the lieutenant was never comfortable, who might get first hurt.
Oh, old man did have friends. There was CeeCee, gimpy black Lab bitch, her entire ass wagged. Taz, old black Chihuahua, gave him a look you’d think the little dog practiced in a mirror. Sheena, sweet, sweet mutt. Rudy, a long-haired Dachshund, didn’t know he was little.
Lucky, milky-muzzled mongrel, just happy to be out of the pound. Old man knew how he felt.
Maybe you don’t get to live your life all over again.
But at least you can learn a little something from your mistakes.
Might heed the words of Mikhail Lermontov:
Many a calm river begins as a turbulent waterfall,
yet none hurtles and foams all the way to the sea.
So, overnight, WordPress decides to redesign odorously jdw.com.
Work in progress. Which is usually true even if nobody screws with us.