Lighthouse...

...for the Blind
A non-profit organization that provides support for the blind.
Not intended to help people see the truth.

###

When I was in high school in the Seattle area
I worked for Lighthouse for the Blind
It was a house to house affair
We were given small suitcases
Stuffed with common household items
Much like the Fuller Brush man of old
The suitcases contained; yes, brushes
And ties, and scissors, and knives,
Plus pencils, pens
and all sorts of household items

We were also given scripts to memorize
Once someone opened their door
We were to head pell-mell into the spiel
I was typically paired with another
High school acquaintance of mine, Chuck.
We would carry different stuff in our bags
And swap leads when knocking on doors
Whoever was in front... did the talking
Chuck was a no-nonsense sort of guy
More or less totally devoid of humor
I mean I could get him to laugh once in a while
But I had to work my ass off at it
Not sure why I even tried
It was just something I felt compelled to do

Chuck was also terribly shy.
He was so shy
He could not look our potential customers in the eye
He would just knock on someone's door
And when they answered
He would stare at the door frame or something inanimate
And recite his spiel mechanically, from memory
I swear most of those who answered
Thought Chuck was blind when he did that
And perhaps I was just there to escort him
To make sure he didn't trip over anything

Chuck had the highest sales volume
Of anyone on our sales force there in Seattle.

###

Chuck and I hung out as pals... sort of
In our Junior year in high school
Not so much in our senior year
In fact, one night we were both
With our separate little, fairly low rent cliques
And some of my buddies and I
Stole a case of beer from Chuck and his buddies
Unseen of course

Later they were convinced it was us
So our two groups met in a deserted area to hash it out
One side said their piece and the other side said theirs
I said something in outright denial of the act
And my old pal, Chuck stepped forward and called me a "S___head".
I hadn't heard the word before and in a burst of righteous indignation
Called him to the middle of the group to do battle
Chuck was a lot taller than me but no stronger I believe
We took a few rookie slugs at each other
And I caught him then wrestled him to the ground
I was a high school wrestler of very modest skill
And Chuck knew absolutely nothing about it
I quickly had him pinned and was proceeding
To rub his face into the gravel
When he basically gave up
At that point, everyone had lost their taste
For the beer argument and that was that

Ironically, Boone Kirkman, who was in our high school
And would later become a professional boxer
Fighting George Foreman and others
Was also among the groups watching it all go down

Chuck didn't show for school for the next couple of days
Preceding the weekend
Presumably to heal his road rash a little
We never spoke again

###

If I were to see Chuck today

I would apologize

And offer to buy him 

A case of beer

I am sure he grew to be a good man. 

Pocket Aces - "Dat Metaphor"

Texas Hold'em - the most popular poker game
Pocket Aces - the most powerful starting hand
Deuce-seven unsuited - the weakest starting hand
How would you play these?

"You play the hand you are dealt" - a common metaphor
For making the best in life from what you have
A life of pocket aces would  be the best
Except the odds are 221:1 against you getting them for starters.

So maybe sometimes you are dealt deuce-seven
But you act like you have pocket aces
And others believe you
If it is life, you still have to play

Maybe sometimes you are dealt pocket aces
But feeling inferior, you act like you have deuce-seven
And others believe you
It is life and you are not taking advantage of what you have

Pocket Aces.
I have been dealt these starters many times in life
More than my share
Beating the odds big time

I haven't always played them the best though
On the other hand I have been dealt plenty of deuce-sevens
And once in a while played them like a pro
I guess it depends on other factors

Sometimes just playing the hand
No matter what you are dealt
Is the greatest thrill

Like one of my great heroes, the one-armed young man
From the book, "Badass, the Harley Davidson Experience"
Who rode the scooter from his home in Texas
To Sturgis, South Dakota and back

He was just celebrating the hand he was dealt.

.     .     .     .     .     .

To put things in perspective

Here is the hand I was dealt on this particular

Gorgeous Friday afternoon 

In the City of Trees

A Perdomo Reserve stogie,

A Heineken

A damn good book (Steig Laarsen's latest)

A faithful, beloved hound dog

(Thanks for planting the idea Tom McD!)