"Letters to Miss Emily..."

[backhoe]

Well, it's been a busy morning so far-- after washing "my" car I noticed the wiper blades were streaking, so on my way to Wal-Mart and other points, got blade assemblies-- you can't just buy $2 refills anymore.

Stopped at the Former Hogarth's-- they had had the tank for 10 days... grrr!

Left your canes- and you Mother's-- at goodwill, gassed the car-- only getting 22 MPG. Seems I noticed that last fillup, too- you, err, I may need a Tune Motor Major. Can't do that at home anymore, dang it.

Got stuff at Wally-World, came home, ran the dogs, and put the tank on the genny-rator.

It starts, runs, and puts out voltage, but the engine "hunts"-- the RPM's go up & down. I may just give it to the Thompsons and tell them about it-- I don't have a one-cylinder engine tachometer to set it by.

Miss Cherry's gate had fallen over, so I jammed it back in the portal with a piece of wood- could have sworn the fitted hinges and locks, but appaerntly not.

It's a magnificent day, kid,

missing you...

[backhoe]

Time to wrap up another day "since you've been gone," baby.

The topsy-turvy plants you so lovingly made- three tomato plants and two cucumbers- are wilting despite watering. Remember, I know nothing about plants.

The cucumbers you planted in your garden are spreading like crazy, but no fruit. Beats me. I hate to see something you loved so go into chaos-- Miss Cherry still hasn't come to get any of your plants- busy with family, I reckon.

My toe still hurts- I must have broken the damn thing, so that ache will be your commemorative...

Got a Great Reuben from Larry's-- couldn't stomach another frozen dinner-- and naturally "the guy in the box" noticed "you have a new ride!" I explained, and damned if the same thing hadn't happened to his uncle- he said he'd pray for you and me...

I blew the AC drain on your car, and maybe that has gotten the leak stopped again- we'll see.

I got "the box" back from Discount Computer-- Barry had to reformat the drive to get it to work, so I'll keep using the Win 2000 kludge in the kitchen for now.

Part of me knows you are indubitably dead-- and part of me can't believe you're really gone. Or that I've outlived two wives.

I'm OK most of the time. Except when I'm not, or think about the future. ( Future? What's that? )

How much more you had to give. Cut forever short.

i love you
johnny

[backhoe]

Just a small curiosity, cutie...

These stats?

"Letters to Miss Emily..." [ 1 ... 6, 7, 8 ]
106 Replies
2<B>526</b>

Miss Emily has died [ 1 ... 40, 41, 42 ]
617 Replies
20<B>333</b>

are "interesting..."

Both rolled over yesterday-- "letters" to 2,000, "died" to 20,000...

Obviously, there has been more activity on "letters"...

Someone is reading this junk... I wonder who? And why?

and johnny still misses you, kid...

[backhoe]

In that

"Department of Old Tin Sorrows?"

Changing the wiper blades on *your*, oh, wait-- it's *my* car, now?

Found this, in the door pocket, along with the tire gauge and window breaker I gave you for your safety...

<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v117/rollinson/gerbilee2008.jpg" height="262" width="211">

I *think* it was near Christmas 2008, but it may have been 2009 ( I relied on you to remember such things, like I relied on you for so much more... )

Just an index card I gave you, to keep you safe...

Just a trip to Atlanta, to meet the Gerbils from Teh Squeaky Wheel-- I got you a new GPS... but you felt too bad to drive that far alone...

There were warning signs, my baby-- like how you were sleeping later & later every day...

Preparing for The Big Sleep...

I saw it coming, in a way... but didn't want to... so I said nothing to you...

Probably better for both of us, that way...

But still,
I wonder...

I will always wonder...

[backhoe]

Went back to sleep for a while- on your side of the bed, since your Golden Boy had settled on mine...

Finally had a dream about you I remember...

Lots of prelude to the part with you in it-- in Wal-Mart, shopping, they were preparing for "the big one"- a huge storm coming... I rush home- via East Beach, for some strange reason, in the way dreams have...

The house, is of course, nothing like what we really have- it's a motel, and in the room I enter, Roma
( To explain to my readers, Roma was my singing partner in the choirs I sang in-- little woman with a Great Big Tenor Voice-- and long dead... )
is showing a home movie, of some sort of musical prodigy she sponsored, who died young...
( Subtle, ain't it? )

...and in the middle of this, I get a letter, summoning me to Jacksonville.
While I'm reading it, you appear-- the tall, slim girl I married, and you take it from me, and look over it...

"I'll go," sez you, "Honey, you know you can't see well enough to drive that far."

"But Honey," Sez I with my big sezzer, "You can't go- you're dead, deary..."

Woke up
to start another day
since you went away...

[backhoe]

Cutie, I sure seem to be doing too much "belatedly" nowadays...

I just realized the cell phone numbers on the tags on both dogs-- and presumably in the chip in Cole-- will ring a dead number.

I guess I had better do what it takes to get that changed-- Wal-Mart has a tag engraving machine in the pet department-- I'll look at it today.

The chip? I'd swear we registered it at "home again," but I can't find anything written down, and naturally after all the PC problems, it's not on anything electronic I can locate.

Guess I'll call Animal Control and see if they have the chip number recorded, and take it from there.

They really are all I have left, that I care about, now.

johnny, the "genius" who seems to be getting stupider & stupider nowadays without you...

[backhoe]

When I started out in that machine shop decades ago, one of the questions always asked was "what exactly are you trying to measure, and how accurate is it?"

"Our" ( let's just use that nomenclature to avoid clumsy sentences ) car may indeed need a major tuneup, but the drop in mileage?

Tried a different tire gauge-- got 32 PSI instead of the 38 the other gauge was reading. Of course, lacking a calibrated gauge to compare them to, they both may be wrong-- but I put air in the tires, and we'll see.

Time's a funny thing- I was thinking "I just checked those tires for Em, right before she went to her hairdresser... you died six weeks ago this coming Monday...

"Gee, ain't it funny
how time
slips away..."

[backhoe]

I'd sure like to know who is making those 637 views since this post rolled over- friends, enemies, the idly curious... it's a mystery.

Cole got his new nametag with street address and my cell number-- only $5 at Wal-Mart-- but I only had 5 $1 bills on me. Zoey gets one next trip there.

AT & T is still sending us bills, after that six-month suspension of service last October turned into bills still coming it. I sent them written notice that they were getting a Final Payment, and that was it. Still getting bills- got to call them Monday.

I thought I'd killed your netbook-- took it on the porch to check our email and when I returned it to your nitestand, I couldn't get the screen to lite up despite my best efforts. It was so "you," with all the dog and garden screensavers, that, that... it was like another little piece of you dying, again.

Finally got it to lite up, don't know what did it.

In one way, it's a good reminder of you... kind of like you're gone on business, but coming home...
( And folks, I know she's not-- I've seen much worse, but what I saw was bad enough. Dead people are... pitiful, just pitiful to see all that vitality and life, gone. Irrevocably. )

In another, it's not so good-- a goad and a sting, a little fraction of what we- and I-- have lost, eternally.

I can actually use it OK now, but without you in the yard? Probably wouldn't use it much-- it was nice to be on the porch with it, but it's dim out there, the signal is low...

I just don't know. I had thought of wiping you personal files and giving it to Chris-- but it's so "you," and mostly in good ways. Yet like all appliances, one day it will croak, and when it's gone dead would end up on the card table dedicated to you in the studio.

It's kind of like that electronic picture frame I have of my pictures-- when I look at it, I see things once good and happy... but now? Most are lost.

My folks. The old house. You. Helen. My stores. My animal children. Happy and sad at the same time.

We had brunch and then lunch on the porch-- me & the dogpack. Leftovers, and it was hot, but pleasant.

You know, nobody has called, or visited, for a while-- this old pile gets... lonely, with my best friend gone.

Remember that trip we took to Darien when I first got my truck, to see how the outlet mall was fairing ( It was dying even then-- I got a book on XTHML, and that was all. ) and it was loads of fun, being with you.

I always meant to do that again ( like our plans to visit the Temple soon... ) and now?

No more chances. Damn.

Just Damn!

It's a strange "trip" I'm on, baby... without you beside me anymore.

I hope I can go the distance.

i love you
johnny

[Garden-Gnome]

I'd sure like to know who is making those 637 views since this post rolled over- friends, enemies, the idly curious... it's a mystery.

I feel awkward and out of place here. This is your private room you have allowed the public to invade. But I very much understand the need to hear normal conversation. After my own loss all I ever wanted was someone to say "so how about that weather" and treat me normally.

All friends, backhoe. All of us. And this may be the best thread FD ever hosts. I've grown to know Miss Emily so much through your letters to her. The love the two of you shared is... amazing and uplifting. If every couple had HALF the love you have the world would be a much happier place.

Thank you, and I think I can safely speak on behalf of many people, thank you, for allowing us to know the exceptional people that are John and Miss Emily.

[backhoe]

I'd sure like to know who is making those 637 views since this post rolled over- friends, enemies, the idly curious... it's a mystery.

I feel awkward and out of place here. This is your private room you have allowed the public to invade. But I very much understand the need to hear normal conversation. After my own loss all I ever wanted was someone to say "so how about that weather" and treat me normally.

All friends, backhoe. All of us. And this may be the best thread FD ever hosts. I've grown to know Miss Emily so much through your letters to her. The love the two of you shared is... amazing and uplifting. If every couple had HALF the love you have the world would be a much happier place.

Thank you, and I think I can safely speak on behalf of many people, thank you, for allowing us to know the exceptional people that are John and Miss Emily.

I thank you, and I welcome your comments.

25 years of life, and living, is a lot to describe, and all I've done is give you all snippets from "a life well lived, but cut short far too soon..."

There was a lot of love, and living, contained in that quarter of a century-- and there was a darker side, too. I've hinted at in in "fugue states," and I may write a little about more of it-- I haven't quite decided, yet, if I should ( after all, she's dead, and beyond the harm of this Old Evil Earth, but I'm stuck here, "for the duration..." ) or quite how to do it...

So, I'll tell you about

“Clocks”

It's funny- in an ironic sense-- how things define our lives and living them...

One of those things is... Clocks.

I've told you my theory that all of us have a Big Simplex Time Clock running on all of us-- we punch in when we are conceived, we punch out when the First Cause ( or whatever you wish to call Him... ) decides our number has come up-- and until then, “a thousand shall fall at your right, and ten thousand at your left, but you shall be unharmed...”

The first thing I ever fixed, for that first wife of mine, was

Her clock.

She had a projector clock-- normal dial face, illuminated, that had a drum engraved with time, in 30 minute intervals that was projected on the ceiling. Remember, she couldn't move much, and all she had to look at at night was... the ceiling. I thought much on that, when we were courting.

So she gave me the clock, and asked if I might try to fix it for her. Remember, she was bright and pretty and charismatic, and had a million suitors-- but I was The One she chose...

Took it apart- well, the bulb was burned out... gee, that should be simple...

Except it wasn't-- it was a specialized bulb. No google searches from home in those days long ago-- I hit the bricks, and searched my city.

Life is a circle ( or circus... )-- at Lafayette Radio Electronics ( next door in the Mall to that store of hers, run by Vernon, who died last May, and whose widow I talk to occasionally, now... ) I found a replacement...

Gave it back to Helen, and you would think I had given her the Sun-- she was so happy to once again see the passage of time, while she dozed, alone, in the dark... I often thought of that, before we became One...

I often wonder where that clock went-- somehow, in moving from Beverly Shores, to Riverside, to here, it slipped away.
( Kind of like both of those wives did... )
Digital clocks ( just coming in to being, that long ago ) had made it obsolete anyway-- what once was leading edge became a curiosity, with a hard to find bulb...

Miss Emily had a clock, too.

A cheap digital alarm clock, always by her side of the bed, that beeped annoyingly every morning to get her up for work...

Life's funny- I hated that thing's “beep,” but as I grew older ( how'd that happen? Son offa ___ ) I heard it less and less, until I could hardly hear the damned thing at all...

Neither could she-- so I always made a point of getting up early, so I could wake her, and then re-wake her-- she slept like the dead ( Whooo! Bad choice of words, eh? ) and had to be roused a few times to get going...

Well, after she “slipped away,” I left it on the nitestand for a few weeks-- I could read it in the dark without my glasses, unlike the analog clock that hangs on a far wall-- until I realized

“You know, I really hate that thing!”

So up it went, to that card table, in her studio full of eighties-era electronic musical instruments, to sit near that rainbow-colored DeColores umbrella I took out of “our” car...

And there it sits... until “The Angels Come & Take me Away...”

[backhoe]

Sweetie, another morning starts... without you.

Dogs out, then in... Cole wants out again, and when I check on him, he's at Taffy's station, in the corner of the yard, waiting...

For what? You to come home?

I bring him in-- the owls are hooting, and while they probably wouldn't bother something as big as he, "you never know, with owls," to bowdlerize The Great Sage, Winnie Ther Poo...

Seen a lot of turkey buzzards flying over the house, recently-- remember, they did that when Taffy was failing?

Same thing with your Mom, at her place...

Same thing here, right before "you went away..."

And now?

Me?

Zoey?

Yomama?

Surely not Cole, he's far too young, and full of life- but then, so were you...

"For Whom the Vultures Soar..."

[backhoe]

Well, Sweet Pea, the day is drawing down...

We cut more foliage away from the porch-- it's grown above deck level, and that causes splash damage when it rains- Cole "helped" the usual way by attacking the wheelbarrow and trying to grab the cutters. You sure spoiled him rotten...

I got the bright idea to read the main electric meter, compare it to last month's bill, and see if we were doing better. My Dad showed me how to do that decades ago, but it has slipped my mind; the sheet I saved from the power company showing how is lost or tossed- naturally, it can be found on the 'net...

Not much better, dammit, but then I really didn't start changing things until a week or 10 days ago. Maybe next month...

Got Zoey a new ID tag, and she's proud-- but good Gawd, her nails need trimming- still no word from the vet.

We all had lunch on the porch- the last of that Ruben.

Spent the afternoon trying to speed up that kluge I built that is the main PC now-- it takes 10-12 minutes to boot.

I thought it might be the picture and scan files and folders-- somehow, they got triplicated when I copied them, so I went thru them-- found some pictures of you I wanted to keep-- moved them all into pictures, and got rid of the subfolders and duplicates.

That didn't do it.

I noticed Avira takes forever to pop its little umbrella, and thinking that might be slowing it, uninstalled it and put Avast! on the system. Maybe shaved a couple of minutes, but it is still 'way too slow for Win 2000.

A faster drive might help-- the 30 gig Maxtor in it was fast-- in 2004. But it's getting crowded, and all the old HD's I have are testing bad.

No EIDE drives locally, so I dropped Robert an email to see if he has some spares newer than mine.

Don't know what to do about dinner-- I really don't want frozen, don't want to burn the gas required to get a takeout from places I like- they are all too far away.

The only things sort of close- maybe 5 miles instead of 12 or 15-- are Mickey Dee's and Larry's subs. Barf.

Except for the heat ( 103 ) it's been another Glorious! day... but life's so strange, with you gone forever. What do I do? What, do I do now?
I know it's time to do things, but... really, even if there's a medical courier's job available, it's not going to pay the bills around here.

I just don't know what to make of life, anymore. I really thought we'd get old together, and fade out- not vanish in an instant.

You left us kid- alone on this wicked old world.

johnny, who never stopped loving you, but sometimes shakes his fists at Heaven and God and Emily, and wonders, "why..."

[backhoe]

... it helps- not much, but a little- to be able to vent some of this stuff.

There's a dark side, too-- I've hinted at it, and have not yet decided how- if at all-- to write about it.

Welcome to the Dark Side... and no, we don't have cookies...

I finally decided to tell... a little about the “rest of the story” ( Paul Harvey ref... )

In my own words. You, reader, can judge for yourself... the depth of love, the truth of words written, somewhat by what I have written before.

Whatever you read, and see, and hear-- is only a fraction of her life... and remember, there always was another life- another World, involved-- mine...

I have my own “griefs and cares...”
( “Try a Little Tenderness” ref )

In all those years together with Miss Emily, only two things made me think, contemplate, and wonder and worry about “calling my lawyer”- to divorce her...

One, was those “fugue states” ( google it ) I told you a little about-- what do you do, when your mate is irrational, violent, and destructive, and you can't do anything about it?

I toughed it out, but it wasn't easy-- I always worried she'd burn the house down, with all of us in it... chain smoking in bed is a really bad habit...

The Other?

This is really hard to write about--

Ahem!

“Marital Relations...”

Yeah, that old “hide the salami...” “do the Deed...” “roll around in bed...”

Yes, I am letting you in to a private place- one I normally never would.

Because you need to know “the rest of the story”-- and I need to tell it.

Let's go back in time, first, to right before she died, then, to the beginning, and fill in the gaps...

And again, I have only my own words, and my own perspective- how I wish she were here, to fill in the places I, no doubt, will miss...

Back in April of this year, Haase Farm Service's abandoned buildings were plagued with vandalism, breaking and entering, stealing, and other petty crimes... buildings were broken in to, stuff was stolen.

Remember, while this is going on, I'm trying to live my life with Miss Emily-- getting things for her, doing things, walking miles on aching feet and trying to see and hear things I don't see or hear very well any more. Life, and living...

I am gathering tools, taking them out there, trying to repair and reinforce broken doors, shattered locks, damage...

And in the middle of all this?

Miss Emily gets an expression on her face I have never seen before-- and believe me, in 25 years of marriage, you would think I had seen them all-- and in a tone of voice I have never heard before, ( see previous ) tells me,

“It was those Butts Boys...”

( I've heard about those boys before- but it was 40 years ago those kids from the trailer park next door robbed and vandalized Haase Farm Service-- by now, they are dead, in prison, or maybe reformed-- the Butts Boys are History, by now... )

She tells me a short, disjointed tale about how, when she was 10, one of them “dragged her in the woods, and tried to rape her, but, 'somehow, Robert pulled him off...'”

Suddenly, for me, a lot of things fell into place... and if she had not died, maybe, just may be, we could have worked them out.

The “marital relations” side of our relationship was never satisfactory- for me, or as far as I could tell, for her. Sure, we slept together, before and after marriage, but I could never tell what she liked, or didn't, and she did not seem to care.

Or communicate about it. She always froze when I brought the subject up.

It was always a sore point- a source of friction between us. Sex every year or two really doesn't cut it for any normal man- or woman.

But there are other reasons to get, and stay, married-- like friendship, and common interests.

So, yeah, I “toughed it out”-- but it wasn't easy. I thought about lawyers, sometimes thought about old girlfriends... but I stayed with her, and I kept my hands off the other women.

Then, she told me about

“Those Butts Boys...”

And everything fell in to place.

God help me, I really thought she did not like me, at some fundamental level, and when she said “I love you,” I half did not believe her-- if “you love me,” why won't you enjoy screwing me?” was my unvoiced response...

Like I tell people- two things in life, you never have quite enough of...

Money...

and Time...

Time ran out for her... she did not remember this until near the end of her life, and our years together.

If she had remembered sooner, we might- just might-- have worked something out, better, between us.

Forgive me, Emmy, for not understanding- I really thought you did not like me much, at some physical, fundamental level, so I took your words of love wrong.

Forgive yourself, for not speaking sooner of the wound you carried- I really would have tried to help you, if only you had voiced it...

And may... the Good Lord, the First Cause, the One who gave us life, forgive our pitiful human failures... we fell, to this Broken World, long ago, and we keep repeating the same, damn-fool mistakes that brought us here...

johnny
who still loves you
in spite of all that
here
on this broken World...<P><HR><P>That's as good as I can make it, folks...<P><center>-30-</center>

[backhoe]

Welcome to the Dark Side...

Here is the note- written in her own, dead, childish hand
( And I have heard than when a person is violated like I suspect she was, parts of their personality are forever frozen at that age. It accounts for much I observed over those 25 years... )

of the kickoff:

<img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v117/rollinson/breakinHFS.jpg">

[backhoe]

http://tinyurl.com/27bn9hd

...Someday the man I used to be
Will come along and call on me
And then because I'm just a man
You'll find my feet are made of sand...

...But till that day
I'll be your man
And love away your troubles if I can...