New Year’s Resolutions

Here is my list of New Year’s Resolutions for 2019:

1. I intend to develop a habit of regularly washing my truck (at least once every three months).

2. This year, I promise to pour more water in the coffee maker and less on the counter and floor.

3. I will stop referring to the talking heads on Wall Street as “buttholes.”

4. Somewhere during the course of 2019, I am going to use the phrase “quid pro quo” in a conversation.

5. During the month of July, I am going to wade up and down the creek at the cabin.

6. I intend to learn the name of one more wildflower.

—Mitchell Hegman

Above the Lake

Three teens on ice skates whisk cheerful colors across the frozen surface of the lake without a sound, one spinning here and there along the way.  But I can plainly hear a pair of ice fisherman—darker, stationary forms at the center of the ice—grumbling about bad wives and good sports.   Above them, higher even than the mountains huddling around all of us, the winter sun strolls through clouds like a wash maid fluffing through strings of freshly hung underskirts.

All is well here at the lake today.

All is well.

Tomorrow, arrives a winter storm.

And maybe the fishermen with bad wives.

—Mitchell Hegman

Rescue Beaver

Here is what happens in your house when you rescue a beaver.  It’s a weird thing.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DggHeuhpFvg

Inside

People look at me and probably see a relatively normal man with bad hair.  But inside me is nothing more than a bunch of cats chasing around bouncing spots of laser light.

—Mitchell Hegman

Prints in the Snow

Snow fell all night on Kindly Kingdom.  In the morning, Princess Mackenna found her little dog, Gentle, at the door wagging his tail.

“Do you want to go out?” she asked the dog.

Gentle bounced back and forth excitedly in front of the door.

“Let me put on my fuzzy coat, my fuzzy hat, and my fuzzy mittens and I will go outside with you.”

When Princess Mackenna opened the door and stepped outside, she saw white, sparkling snow everywhere.  She saw puffs of snow held in the branches of trees.  Puffs of snow atop fences.  Snow across all the grass and all the kingdom.  “Look at the snow!” she exclaimed to Hedgy the hedgehog, who always stood just outside the door.

“Snow,” repeated Hedgy.  “And goodbye…I mean hello…I mean good morning.”

Hedgy was a little confused, as always.  Princess Mackenna touched his nose.

Together, Gentle and Princess Mackenna carefully walked out into the fresh snow.  “It’s so soft.” Princess Mackenna said.

Princess Mackenna and Gentle “softed” their way out to the big pine tree in front of Kindly Castle.  The tree was so full of snow it was puffy and white instead of green.

Princess Mackenna poked at a puffy branch with her fuzzy mitten.  A sparkling snow waterfall fell near her boots. That’s when she heard a whistling sound above her.  Then a small voice said, “The snow remembers!”

Above Princess Mackenna, sitting on a puff of snow, perched a bright red cardinal bird.  “Hello,” said the bird.  “My name is Carla.”  She whistled again and then chirped twice.  “The snow remembers!” the red bird repeated.

“What do you mean?” asked Princess Mackenna.

“I’ll show you.”  Carla whistled, then fluttered down into the snow beside Gentle and hopped three times.  “One…two…three,” sang the bird. “Now, look behind me.  What do you see?”

“I see blue holes in the white snow,” said Princess Mackenna.

“Yes.  The snow remembers where we go with prints.”   Carla fluttered aback up to her puffy branch on the tree.  “Now look behind yourself.”

Behind her, Princess Mackenna saw her own blue holes in the snow.  Perfect boot prints where she had stepped.  Perfect little paw prints where Gentle had bounced along.

Carla chirped.  “And the prints will be there until the snow melts.  The snow remembers us.  Isn’t it grand?”

Princess Mackenna walked in a small circle through the snow.  The circle of prints remained there.  Then she walked straight and turned, walked straight and turned, walked straight and turned, walked straight and turned, and made a big square with her prints  “I can draw in the snow with my feet!” she said.

Gentle buried his nose in the snow and sneezed, causing the snow to splash out into sparkles.

Princess Mackenna kicked the snow and watched sparkles splash up and fall again.  “I need to run fast!” she said.  “Good-bye, Carla.”

“Good-bye and have a snowy day,” said Carla.  She chirped and whistled.

Off ran Princess Mackenna and her dog Gentle.  Off they sparkled though the snow.  Each of them leaving a trail of prints behind them.

—Mitchell Hegman

Scent

I think cats and dogs have it right—the scent of a machine is not worth investigating—it’s the other creatures around us that matter.

--Mitchell Hegman

Vanilla Extract

We nearly collided while leaning toward the display rack on the grocery gondola for a closer look—me and a slightly older gentleman.

“We must be looking for the same thing,” I teased.

“Vanilla extract?”

“Yep, that would be the stuff.” I glanced at the note that girl sent with me when I left the house.  “I have very specific marching orders, given to me by the authority having jurisdiction.”

“Do you need a specific brand?”

“Nope.  Needs to be organic or real.  Underline those!”

The gentleman pointed at some boxes of “pure” vanilla extract on the highest line of display.  “I think this is what we need.”

“Oh, do you also have some marching orders with you?”

“No.”  He smiled.  “I am not that fortunate anymore.  At one time.  Yes.”

“I am fortunate,” I said after only a moment of thought.  I grabbed a box and dropped it into my cart.  “Merry Christmas to you, sir.”

“And to you.”

--Mitchell Hegman

Carol of the Bells

Early this morning, I forced myself to visit the internet hell that is the YouTube collection of Christmas songs.  I started with random song browsing and then drilled down to seek only Carol of the Bells.  You need to remember, YouTube will provide the very best professionals as well as preteen “practicers” who uploaded videos just last night.

I listened to no less than twenty versions of Carol of the Bells.  I am posting my favorite version.  It’s crisp and only two minutes long.

Listen for yourself.

Enjoy.

--Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jc1kD71IQuw

Part of What I Was Thinking

The city feeds upon itself, broods in back alleys, staggers drunkenly across once open spaces. The city wears tattered coats and screams at children.

—Mitchell Hegman

Strong as the Wind Blows

Out in the prairie, a strong wind has nearly laid flat the tall stalks of needle and thread and crested wheatgrass.  The grass trembles as it submits to the force of rushing air.  My cat is out there, hunkered down, suddenly frozen rigid by a strong gust.  His thick coat of fur has been spread open by the wind, revealing stark whiteness underneath—like a color screaming.  His ears are laid back.  His eyes wild.

If I should ever tell you I love you as strong as the wind blows, this is what I mean.

—Mitchell Hegman

Off with his Head

It’s the oldest story in the book.  Boy has a failing body and wants to chop off his head and then have his head reattached to a new, healthy body.   Suddenly, along comes a pretty girl who ruins everything.

The “boy” in this story is a wheelchair bound man of 33 named Valery Spiridonov.  Valery volunteered for the world’s first head transplant.  He intended to allow a certain Professor Sergio Canavero (not so affectionately known as ‘Dr. Frankenstein’) to sever his neck and then reattach his head to a new body.  The good doctor presently works in China thanks to generous research funding and medical latitude not found in most places.

Valery Spiridonov, you see, has a bad, deteriorating body.  He suffers from Werdnig-Hoffman disease, a malady responsible for spinal muscular atrophy and limited life expectancy.  Feeling he had nothing to lose, Spiridonov volunteered for the world’s first human head transplant.

And then along swished Anastasia Panfilova, a stunning young woman in her early 30s with a master’s degree in chemical technology and a love for men in wheelchairs.  Valery and Anastasia met while living in the same city in Russia.  About men in wheelchairs, Anastasia remarks: “Such people are much deeper, feeling, faithful, kind-hearted and they are usually very smart…isn’t that the main thing?”

Valery Spiridonov most certainly is smart.  He’s a computer expert.  Spiridonov is presently studying the computer analysis of emotions at the University of Florida.  And he certainly does have feelings.  His feelings for Anastasia grew so strong, he married her.  Together, miraculously, the pair produced a healthy baby boy.

Naturally, given his new life, Valery Spiridonov changed his mind about having Dr. Frankenstein severe his head from his body and reattaching it to a new one.  Dr. Frankenstein, insistent that he has a head to severe from a body, is now seeking a new volunteer to provide a head for the procedure.  I am not sure where the healthy body is coming from.  I suspect this might be a bit like making sausage—you really don’t want to watch this too closely.

Valery Spiridonov and Professor Canavero

Anastasia Panfilova

—Mitchell Hegman

Photos and Original Story: The Sun

Two Knives

I opened a cardboard box yesterday.  The box had been sealed pretty well with packing tape.

You know the type of box I’m talking about.  One that would likely not break open if you smashed it between two freight trains.

So I grabbed a knife, set the box on the kitchen counter alongside a newspaper, and went to work.  As it turned out, there was a second (emergency backup?) box within the first box.

While studying the emergency backup box to determine my plan of attack on that, I reached down to pick up the knife again.

I came up empty-handed.

I reached down a second time, a bit more earnestly.

Empty-handed again!

What the...?

I have posted a photograph I captured with my smarter-than-me-phone.  You will see, in the photograph, the box I opened.  Alongside the box you will notice two knives.

Obviously I reached for the wrong knife.  Twice!

—Mitchell Hegman

My Simple Needs

My simple needs are these:

I need to be in a place where I can hear wind sifting through stands of pine trees, where water jangles through stone on its way to a great river, where the sky cannot escape for the handsome cage of mountains holding it there.

—Mitchell Hegman

An Empty Wall

I am in the process of remodeling my home office/den.  In order to paint and apply new wall coverings, I was forced to take down photographs of my maternal grandparents from one wall.  Oddly enough, I now think of my grandparents nearly every time I see the bare wall.

From my early teens on, I was raised by my grandparents.  The years I spent with them were safe, productive, and, for lack of a more substantial word, beautiful.  My grandparents provided me with a firm foundation that allowed me to be, well, me.

Consider, my grandparents were about my age in when they took me in.  I think about that a lot these days.  How would that feel?  How monumental the change of lifestyle?   What sacrifices to be made?  What rewards to come?

As I think back, I recall a few times—while I was still navigating through the ugliest narrows of my early teens—when Grandmother drove me up into Helena and I felt a little weird about that.  Honestly, I hoped I would not bump into any high school classmates while she carted me from place to place.

I was too nervously cool to be with my grandmother. 

Today, I would give most anything to spend any one of those uneasy hours with her again.

—Mitchell Hegman

Queensrÿche

that girl: “Have you ever in your life used the word lucidity in a sentence?”

Me: “Nope.  Not that I recall.”

that girl: “Me either.  But it’s pretty, for a word.”

Me: “Yes, it is.  I think I have used the word lucid a few times.  But not a lot.”

that girl: “I think I have, too.”

Me: “I’m so glad we had this conversation.  It was elucidating.”

—Mitchell Hegman

The Difference between Night and Day

The difference between night and day is not so much one of light and darkness.  The biggest difference is that of sounds.

The errant knock or skritch during the day is nothing.

At night, these are monsters.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Writing Machine

The video I have posted is about five minutes in length.  The video is about something called an “automaton.”  Made by a Swiss watchmaker in the 1770s, this writing machine is the mechanical version of a modern computer.

I find the machine both a little creepy and beautiful at the same time.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bY_wfKVjuJM 

Another Sunrise, Another Sunset

We were provided again, yesterday, with another stunning sunrise followed by an equally spectacular sunset.

—Mitchell Hegman

20 Pounds of Housecat

I want some of what my 20 pounds of housecat has.

For one thing, I want to learn how to use the sofa the way he does.  I am capable of sitting on the sofa.  Sometimes, I can stretch across the cushions in a restful position.  My cat, on the other hand, becomes an extension of the sofa itself, an integral part of the cushions.  He bonds with the softness at a molecular level.

My 20 pounds of housecat—as all cats—is also a wholly self-contained unit.  Everything he gives a damn about is onboard.  He will maul a stuffed mouse filled catnip, throw it against the wall, and then saunter off with nary a second thought.  I can call his name all day long and he will only respond if he really, really, really feels like doing so.

And a cat will not waste time and energy wagging a tail when greeting you.  If a cat likes you, they express so by not kicking your ass.

Good enough.

And you’re lucky.

Sometimes, I’ll be staggering about in my house—ever preoccupied with human sensibilities, perhaps distracted by worries that the coolant in my truck’s radiator is not capable of withstanding a minus-thirty degree cold snap; or I might be pondering the latest economic upheaval—and I will walk into one room or another, and find my cat curled into a fuzzy ball on the floor.  A calm and singular mote ignoring the swirls of meaningless activity surrounding.

Who doesn’t wish to be a part of that?

—Mitchell Hegman

Occupied Space

If you take time to really calculate things out, it’s pretty obvious that honesty takes up far less space than anything else.

—Mitchell Hegman

Baby Margaret

Yesterday, that girl and I fell off a cliff together and somehow landed directly inside a whirlwind.

At least, that’s how it seemed.

What actually happened is this: Our 2½ -year-old granddaughter took us on a frenetic tour of her house while we were video chatting with her.

We plunged from the cliff as soon as Mackenna was handed the smartphone by her mother.

That was immediately followed by a blurred and highly jittery flight from the dining room to the “big room,” where we were flung inside the zebra play-tent.  Then, following a brief flight through harsh light, we were stuffed into the festive branches of the Christmas tree alongside a singing ornament.  That’s when Mackenna asked, “Where is Baby Margaret?”

Off we flew once again.  Spinning.  Blurry nothings streaking nearby.  Lightness.  Darkness.  The television.  Darkness.  The sofa.   Light.  Finally, there!   The smooth plastic face of Baby Margaret floated up big in front of us and held there for a few moments.

But wait!  It’s time to put Baby Margaret to bed.

And off we flew once more.

Lightness.  Darkness.

Baby Margaret’s serene face suddenly appeared inside the crib.

All of us once again gathered together above her.  

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Ralph Waldo Emerson Said

—The earth laughs in flowers.

—A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

—Always do what you are afraid to do.

Thought #151

In our lifetimes we have successfully wed fire and child.  We have united tempered machine steel with marigold.  We have taken the down escalator up.  Beyond that, we watch a lot of television. 

—Mitchell Hegman

First Light, Last Light

Posted today are photographs from the first light of yesterday morning and the last light of yesterday evening.

--Mitchell Hegman

A Void

In the 1960’s, La Disparition, a very odd novel written by Georges Perec appeared on the literary scene.  The novel—over 200 pages in length—made quite a stir, though not for the contents or literary parallels.  The novel made a splash for lacking something.

The author wrote the entire novel without ever using the letter “e.” 

Consider this: the letter “e” is the commonest letter used in writing.  This letter appears in writing something near 13 percent of the time.  The novel appeared originally in French, but was later translated into English under the title: A Void.

Stop for a moment and try to compose a few sentences without using an “e.”

It isn’t easy.   You cannot even use “the” in a sentence.   Following is a slice of what the author created:

“Today, by radio, and also on giant hoardings, a rabbi, an admiral notorious for his links to masonry, a trio of cardinals, a trio, too, of insignificant politicians…”

The reason for writing in this manner wholly evades me.

Why work so hard to maintain a hole?  How radically must we alter our normal process to get attention?   At what point does the means by which we alter our approach to creating a result become more important than the result itself?

Equivalents to this kind of writing exist in our lives, too.  Think about the aging spinster who excluded entirely from her life all relations with men.  Consider the man who will not associate in any fashion with anyone from the opposite political party.

I am not sure we are meant to try this hard.

I, for one, shall never abandon you, “e.”

—Mitchell Hegman

The Coffee Glitch

I froze the governor elect of Colorado this morning.  Not literally.  I froze him on television with my remote.  I had to freeze him because I forgot to drink the coffee I made early this morning.

What I mean is: I wanted to hear what the governor had to say, so I froze him on the television while I schlepped out into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

Wait a second.  How could I forget to drink coffee?

No idea.  Some kind of software error, I guess.

This is serious.

When eventually I got back to unfreeze the governor, I was so busy freaking out about forgetting to drink my coffee, I didn’t pay much attention to what he had to say.

He was as good to me frozen as not.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Time To Be Frightened

The noise which awakened me, no longer attainable once I came fully aware, didn’t frighten me near as much as when I glanced over to my illuminated digital clock and read: 12:73.

—Mitchell Hegman

To Build a Cabin

I am no good at remaining idle.  Either my hands and feet or my brain need to be engaged.  Generally, I require at least two projects in front of me.  When I was working construction, I always had, by the very nature of my job, some kind of project at work.  At home, I either spent quiet hours reading and writing or I whipped up a project of some kind.

In fact, I constructed my own house from the ground up!

My cabin has been a spectacular assignment.  I started construction in 2003.  Up until this year, I have thrown weekends and random days into that.  For the last half of this year, since my retirement (something that girl calls ‘fake news’), I have spent a great deal of time working at the cabin.

The bathroom is now done!

I am only a few days from finishing the main level flooring.  And, as we teeter toward 2019, I am fearful I may finish the cabin sometime soon.

Then what?

Just yesterday, here at home, I started moving things out of the den so I can prepare for a remodel.  That should keep me busy as the soon-to-arrive winter snows block me from vehicle access to my cabin until April.

Here is the issue: I can’t just sit around.

If I am idle, I quickly feel over-charged and unmoored.  My brain, when underutilized, steadily poisons itself with random and nonsensical thoughts that fire up through the more rational layers.  I imagine UFO’s hovering above my checkbook as I stare at my desk.  I begin to question why life as we know it exists at all.  I may even consider flipping through the television channels just to see if I can find out what Justin Bieber is up to.

As I sit here thinking about this, it occurs that I know a guy who had to build himself a second cabin.

That’s an intriguing thought.

—Mitchell Hegman

My Favorite Place

I have not yet been to my favorite place.  I am still looking.   And enjoying the ride just getting there.

—Mitchell Hegman 

Eight Cats

Recently, for some inexplicable reason, I have been thinking a great deal about all the cats I have shared my life with.  I keep imagining them sitting or sprawled-out in those various places they preferred.  Each cat favored different places.  Roxie, for example, loved the bathroom sink.  Soda enjoyed sleeping on top of people.   Slate loved the edge of a chair.

This morning, I spent a few minutes browsing through photographs of my cats.  I have photographs of all but a cat I named Annie Gill.  Annie Gill, a smallish Siamese, vanished after living with us for only a manner of weeks.

Posted today are photographs of my cats.

My buddies…

Denver

Soda

Slate

Reboot

Roxie

Splash

Carmel

—Mitchell Hegman