Pigeon Poop:Pile #1
Those droppings of shit that those little birds leave on your windowsills, your car or splats against the glass or on the sidewalks. Yep, that's what I am talking about. But, not the literal, physical shit. The pigeon poop that splatters your life and depletes the charm of it. Those annoying droppings of life that force you to watch where you walk, or change your stride & steps. Yep, that's what I'm talking about. Pigeon poop.
I spent a couple of days at my niece's home, to help with my sister and their remodel job of their garage, into her mini apartment. We actually had a nice visit and they have done a lovely job on the renovation. I was able to help my sister unpack some boxes of her trinkets and collectibles, and hang up pictures to cozy up the joint. It was nice.
On Tuesday at 8 am, a few hours before my departure, I get a text from my eldest son. I looked at it and it was he, standing in front of a mirror to snap the picture of himself. I smiled when I saw it and thought, "what a clever way to tell me to call him." I grabbed a cup of java and proceeded to the deck into the warm, morning air.
"Hi Bri", I said with enthusiasm.
"Hi mom. Did you get my text?" He sounded VERY sullen.
"Yea, that's why I am calling. I thought that was a pretty cute way to tell me to call."
I could almost hear a grin through the phone. "Did you look at the picture?"
"Just quickly " I said noticing the downplay in his voice.
"I got mugged last night."
"What?????????????????????????????????????????????????"
"I got mugged last night. You can see my black eye in the picture."
"Are you okay? Were you hospitalized? Holy shit, what happened?" What else does a mother ask?
"I didn't get hurt too bad. I have a black eye, my eyes are swollen because they sprayed a shitload of mace in my eyes. My face is puffy and my hands are really sore...I got at least a few good punches in."
I could feel my heart sinking to my gut. My mind instantly flashed to my youngest son's friend, Ben, who was shot at 22 years of age, (three years ago..sigh here), from two girls who enticed him to a park, then ended up mugging and shooting him. The only reason the two little b-----s were caught, was because they were stupid enough to use his cell phone and the police traced their calls via the GPS system inside the phone. (That's another story.)
Brian's story: He was having a great day, got a healthy sized paycheck, went to the bank in the late afternoon and cashed it. He got a ride (from a friend), to a local auto shop to pick up his truck after repairs were finished. In haste, he hurried back to the job site to finish his job and get his tools. His job site was an apartment complex. He ended up working for hours and upon leaving, went around the corner of the building and "they" saturated his eyes with mace. Two people, and at least one was a girl, he thinks. They punched him around, wrestled him to the ground, kicked him around, and one grabbed his wallet full of his cash. He called the cops, but of course, their chances of catching them are slim to none. Especially since the mace blinded him and he couldn't give a solid description.
I didn't know what to say. I knew better than to tell him about the "you should of's," etc...he was beating himself up, in retrospect, enough. When he finished relaying the story, I just said, " Wow, what a tough lesson. I am soooooooooooo glad the bastards didn't have a gun or a knife. Remember what happened to Ben? Shit Bri, that could have been you and I am so glad they didn't have weapons".
We talked for a bit more and on my 2 hour drive home, I was grateful my son was alive and I was grateful he didn't call me from a Seattle hospital. I was grateful he could call me, period.
On my two hour drive home, I replayed the incident of Jason's friend, Ben, being shot in California.
He had moved down there to attend college. He had a date at a local pub with some girl. The girl stood him up. He was feeling displaced and crappy, (we assume), and two girls in the bar befriended him. Apparently, they had drinks together for awhile. They talked him into giving them a ride somewhere, to a neighboring town. Somehow and for some reason, they got him to take them to a park. Once there and outside, they attacked him, stole all possessions he had on him, and shot him. They left him for dead. A few hours later, someone found him and called the cops. He was already gone.
My youngest son, Jason, called me at work the following day when he and his buddies heard of the news.
"Hey mom," Jason said, " I don't know how to tell you this, but Ben was shot and killed last night."
"Are you kidding me? What?" I was STUNNED, STUNNED, STUNNED. His mother and I had been friends since the boys were in preschool together...all the way through high school. Ben and Jason played basketball and soccer together throughout their entire youth.
Hec, their senior year of high school and after their basketball season ended, I allowed Jason to have a party with eight of his friends at my house. (First and last time I ever did that...smile here). It was great, they were under control and we had fun. I hadn't cooked that much in one evening, for a long time. As it was a "slumber" party, Ben came to me the next day before leaving and thanked me for hosting the party. We talked about the fact that since they would be graduating in a few months, this may be one of the last times they got to hang out together.
Anyway, after Jason broke the news to me over the phone of the shooting, I called my Director, broken up, and went home early.
The next morning, I took a box of food, wine, gifts to my friend, (his mom). Sitting there with her for hours letting her tell me the situation, the tears, etc...and not knowing quite what to say. What do you say to a good friend when her son was just killed? I am sorry, though I said it so much, doesn't even peg what you feel. It doesn't embody the true loss or sympathy.That was the hardest service I ever attended.
So here is some pigeon poop to deal with. Of course, I helped Bri with some money, which is another pile of shit for both of us to deal with. Neither of us could afford this shit. But, we shall persevere. We always do.
More shit to come....
I spent a couple of days at my niece's home, to help with my sister and their remodel job of their garage, into her mini apartment. We actually had a nice visit and they have done a lovely job on the renovation. I was able to help my sister unpack some boxes of her trinkets and collectibles, and hang up pictures to cozy up the joint. It was nice.
On Tuesday at 8 am, a few hours before my departure, I get a text from my eldest son. I looked at it and it was he, standing in front of a mirror to snap the picture of himself. I smiled when I saw it and thought, "what a clever way to tell me to call him." I grabbed a cup of java and proceeded to the deck into the warm, morning air.
"Hi Bri", I said with enthusiasm.
"Hi mom. Did you get my text?" He sounded VERY sullen.
"Yea, that's why I am calling. I thought that was a pretty cute way to tell me to call."
I could almost hear a grin through the phone. "Did you look at the picture?"
"Just quickly " I said noticing the downplay in his voice.
"I got mugged last night."
"What?????????????????????????????????????????????????"
"I got mugged last night. You can see my black eye in the picture."
"Are you okay? Were you hospitalized? Holy shit, what happened?" What else does a mother ask?
"I didn't get hurt too bad. I have a black eye, my eyes are swollen because they sprayed a shitload of mace in my eyes. My face is puffy and my hands are really sore...I got at least a few good punches in."
I could feel my heart sinking to my gut. My mind instantly flashed to my youngest son's friend, Ben, who was shot at 22 years of age, (three years ago..sigh here), from two girls who enticed him to a park, then ended up mugging and shooting him. The only reason the two little b-----s were caught, was because they were stupid enough to use his cell phone and the police traced their calls via the GPS system inside the phone. (That's another story.)
Brian's story: He was having a great day, got a healthy sized paycheck, went to the bank in the late afternoon and cashed it. He got a ride (from a friend), to a local auto shop to pick up his truck after repairs were finished. In haste, he hurried back to the job site to finish his job and get his tools. His job site was an apartment complex. He ended up working for hours and upon leaving, went around the corner of the building and "they" saturated his eyes with mace. Two people, and at least one was a girl, he thinks. They punched him around, wrestled him to the ground, kicked him around, and one grabbed his wallet full of his cash. He called the cops, but of course, their chances of catching them are slim to none. Especially since the mace blinded him and he couldn't give a solid description.
I didn't know what to say. I knew better than to tell him about the "you should of's," etc...he was beating himself up, in retrospect, enough. When he finished relaying the story, I just said, " Wow, what a tough lesson. I am soooooooooooo glad the bastards didn't have a gun or a knife. Remember what happened to Ben? Shit Bri, that could have been you and I am so glad they didn't have weapons".
We talked for a bit more and on my 2 hour drive home, I was grateful my son was alive and I was grateful he didn't call me from a Seattle hospital. I was grateful he could call me, period.
On my two hour drive home, I replayed the incident of Jason's friend, Ben, being shot in California.
He had moved down there to attend college. He had a date at a local pub with some girl. The girl stood him up. He was feeling displaced and crappy, (we assume), and two girls in the bar befriended him. Apparently, they had drinks together for awhile. They talked him into giving them a ride somewhere, to a neighboring town. Somehow and for some reason, they got him to take them to a park. Once there and outside, they attacked him, stole all possessions he had on him, and shot him. They left him for dead. A few hours later, someone found him and called the cops. He was already gone.
My youngest son, Jason, called me at work the following day when he and his buddies heard of the news.
"Hey mom," Jason said, " I don't know how to tell you this, but Ben was shot and killed last night."
"Are you kidding me? What?" I was STUNNED, STUNNED, STUNNED. His mother and I had been friends since the boys were in preschool together...all the way through high school. Ben and Jason played basketball and soccer together throughout their entire youth.
Hec, their senior year of high school and after their basketball season ended, I allowed Jason to have a party with eight of his friends at my house. (First and last time I ever did that...smile here). It was great, they were under control and we had fun. I hadn't cooked that much in one evening, for a long time. As it was a "slumber" party, Ben came to me the next day before leaving and thanked me for hosting the party. We talked about the fact that since they would be graduating in a few months, this may be one of the last times they got to hang out together.
Anyway, after Jason broke the news to me over the phone of the shooting, I called my Director, broken up, and went home early.
The next morning, I took a box of food, wine, gifts to my friend, (his mom). Sitting there with her for hours letting her tell me the situation, the tears, etc...and not knowing quite what to say. What do you say to a good friend when her son was just killed? I am sorry, though I said it so much, doesn't even peg what you feel. It doesn't embody the true loss or sympathy.That was the hardest service I ever attended.
So here is some pigeon poop to deal with. Of course, I helped Bri with some money, which is another pile of shit for both of us to deal with. Neither of us could afford this shit. But, we shall persevere. We always do.
More shit to come....
Comments
Spokane is dealing with a gang of teenagers that have beaten up people at night, getting off work. Police are finally starting to take notice. It's hard to fight back with two or more on the attack, they're like wild dogs. If I was closer, I'd help you shovel some of that shit!