Tag Archives: fiction

Writing Challenge: Happy As A Clam At High Tide…

Happiness held is the seed; happiness shared is the flower.” John Harrigan

Writing Challenge: Happy As A Clam At High Tide... Happy man

Writing Challenge: Happy As A Clam At High Tide… Happy man

Have you ever seen a happy clam at high tide? Seriously, have you looked at any clams lately? If not, I can assure you they don’t look ecstatic. As I was putting this post together, I realized I had no idea about the origin of the popular, oft abbreviated  saying; “Happy as a Clam.” A little digging produced an explanation: Clams are harder to catch at high-tide. To live is to be happy.

My uncle Jaja was always upbeat and full of life; even at 65  he stayed active and interested in life. He was a farmer and palm wine tapper who made friends easily. Whenever he left the village to visit his two grown sons in the big city, it seemed like a set of megawatt bulbs had burned out. Invariably, he would return and regale us with stories of the people he met in the city. He liked to call them “Characters.”  Two stories came to mind for this exercise, and I’ll let the late Uncle Jaja speak for himself.

Uncle Jaja: Thank you my child! So, Last Easter when I went to the city, my sons and their wives fed me well. The food was so good, I had to take a stroll to the bar beach to work it off. As I walked on the beach, I noticed a very old man, with a basket of clams, hawking his wares while laughing and chatting with people walking by. He had a few teeth, wrinkly weathered skin, and grey hair, but with an ancient warrior’s gait.  His eye caught mine and he called me over.  I’m always happy to make a new friend so I went. After saying a traditional greeting, I called him Uncle.

“No, no man, call me Tabu!  You hear me!? Anyway what brings you here?” he shouted as he shook my hand.  ” The children.” I said.  “Good. Buy them some clams!”  He replied. Then he started laughing and cracking dirty jokes. I can’t even tell you.  He was full of life and knew a lot about seafood. We had a great chat and after some time,  he persuaded me to busy a few. I did and saying goodbye, headed back to my son, Oge’s, house.

Writing Challenge: Happy As A Clam At High Tide... Happy clams?

Writing Challenge: Happy As A Clam At High Tide… Happy clams?

Next day, I went to bar beach again and there he was, old man Tabu, carrying his basket of clams and dancing and laughing. This time I was curious to find out more. I went over, greeted him warmly and asked,  “Uncle Tabu, you look so happy today. What’s your secret? “  He burst out laughing, even bending over to catch his breath.  “Me?, he said, “I’m a happy man. I smoke  five packs of cigarettes daily, drink 3 cases of whiskey and palm wine every week, eat meat 3 times a day and I don’t waste time with exercise. Instead, I hang out at the beach and make new friends like you! “

I was shocked! I’m 65 and can’t eat like that… How could this old man consume all that and still be standing?  Unbelievable! I had to ask Uncle how he does it and advice him…   I followed him to  the edge of the water where he stood rinsing out a metal teacup.  Tabu looked at me and said nothing.  He seemed subdued, even a little reflective.

I pulled myself together and in a bold voice, said, “Uncle, why the mission to self-destruction? I’m 65 and hope to see more grand children. I’m sure you already have a few.”   Uncle smiled  and said nothing.  So, I continued, “By the way, how old are you? I want to remember to be this happy when I’m older.” He looked at me and laughed. “No, I’m serious Uncle, please.” I said.  Uncle Tabu looked me in the eye and said, ” Man,  I’m twenty-six!”   I was flabbergasted, but you know what? We can’t speculate without having all the facts … and he was living his version of happy. -UJ.  Was he? More below

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Reflections: Plant Some Good Deed Seeds…

“Thinking good thoughts is not enough, doing good deeds is not enough, seeing others follow your good examples is enough.” Douglas Horton

Reflections: Plant Some Good Deed Seeds...

Reflections: Plant Some Good Deed Seeds…

Small Stones #30
Who came up with the idea
Of random acts of kindness?
It is good for the soul…
For each kindness reverberates
like a pebble in a pond
Spreading far beyond its origins
healing other souls
Good deeds flow…

Tyler grew up in a strict home. His father was abusive and his mom did little to stop the brutal beatings he received from his dad. Over the years, he forced himself to tune out his dad’s rants and imagine himself in an imaginary world. It worked for a while but, as Tyler got older, the pain became so profound that, at 18, he attempted suicide. The physical abuse stopped but not the mental abuse. One day, Tyler decided he’d had enough. He packed what little possessions he owned, and walked out the door. He spent the next 3 years on the streets as a homeless youth.

It was a terrible, dehumanizing experience and he recalls spending many nights at a homeless shelter crying and begging God to let him die. “I’d had enough but something greater than me soon took over.” He said.  As serendipity would have it, one cold winter day,  he was loitering on 42nd Street begging for cigarettes and God knows what else,  when he bumped into an old neighbor, Mrs X.  “What you doing out on the streets Tyler? Your mama’s heartbroken!” She said, staring at his tall, dirty,  gaunt frame in horror, her mouth wide open.  Tyler opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. He just stood there, on the street corner of 42nd and 9th  and wept.  More below!

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Reflections: 100 Is The New 78…

“A comfortable old age is the reward of a well-spent youth. Instead of it bringing sad and melancholy prospects of decay, it would give us hopes of eternal youth in a better world.” Maurice Chevalier

Reflections: 100 Is The New 78...

Reflections: 100 Is The New 78…


Chaka Khan – I’m Every Woman

Dear 100 Year Old Me … and anyone out there listening,
What a grand way to celebrate my big day! I always knew I’d live long but heck, not this long. I made it; even outlived that whippersnapper who asked me at my 80th why I was still writing books! I’ve written 18 books and still have some in the works. My friend, countingduck, knows a man in his 80s who still writes… Sheesh, you think getting old is terrible? Consider the alternative and remember you’ll be either old some day or the alternative… but let me not get ahead of myself… I got some celebrating to do.

Today, I officially join the Centenarian Club. But listen, 100 is the new 78…  At least, that’s what my great grandson Timmy told me this morning when I asked, “If 50 is the new 30, what is 100?” “Oh GG!” he said, (they call me GG for great granny), “Don’t make it too obvious for people to figure out…that way they’ll ask why 78?”. Timmy is right. My life sure did start again at 78. Grab a chair, sit awhile. I got a few stories left in this head of mine. I promise not to meander. The body might not be willing but the mind is still sharp as a whip.

“For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Reflections: 100 Is The New 78...

Reflections: 100 Is The New 78…

Aging might be overrated, but nothing beats having your engines revved up at any age. See, in case you’re still guessing, I was born in 1913, somewhere uptown. My daddy said Harlem, my mama said Washington Heights… Both liked a stiff drink or three, so who knows what they remembered; it doesn’t matter where… Fact is I was born. I went to church school where I met and married Boniface at 18. We were church school friends and found our way out of Sunday School into bedroom school. Long story short, we raised 4 kids, had a great time together with a few fights thrown in.

50 years later, Boniface keeled over and left me to fend for myself. I did get his mailman pension but I was on my own. 68 and on my own with my three sons and one daughter scattered around the world. I was feeling lonely so my girlfriends introduced me to Jim. He was a swell guy; a decade or so younger and a retired career military man and all… only problem was Jim never left the war. WWII? Vietnam? I had no idea. He had nightmares and night-sweats; Poor chap! But in the daytime we had a lot of fun; parties, dances, movies, a bit of travel and the occasional fishing trip.

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One day, around my 75th birthday, he declared he was going on a reconnaissance mission and never came back. Months later, they found his body in the Hudson River… Poor Jim. He was a good man. Jim and I never married so there was nothing to collect. I mourned him and had to move on… time was running out moving on. My girlfriends were dropping like flies but the ones that stayed alive hung out with me in the city. We exercised to stay in shape, made passes at guys to get them flustered, and took classes to keep our grey matter churning. But life really jumped for me when Charlie came along in my 78th year. Yeah, he was a good time charlie alright and the best lover ever… Shut your mouth! We do too. More below!

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