Summer Afternoons at the Swimming Hole
When a Dog Attacks
When a dog attacks a child, it can leave more than just physical scars.
“We have a new batch of puppies,” said my cousin. “You should come see them.”
As he got off the bus I told him I would try to come by over the weekend to see the puppies. The next day was Saturday, one of those overcast gray days. And since I didn’t have anything better to do I was eager to walk the half mile to my cousin’s to see the little brood of bird dog pups. Continue reading “When a Dog Attacks”
Where Were You 50 Years Ago, the Week of 11-22-1963?
To those of us old enough to remember the week of 11/22/1963, the videos and commemorative specials about the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President Kennedy have freshened old memories and feelings.
Of course I remember exactly where I was, as does anyone who was alive at that time. On Friday, 11/22/1963, I was in the fourth grade, and we had just returned from lunch. We were sitting at our desks when the principal’s voice came over the intercom system. He said, “Teachers and students, let me interrupt your classes for a special announcement. We have just learned that President Kennedy has been assassinated in Dallas.” Continue reading “Where Were You 50 Years Ago, the Week of 11-22-1963?”
A Letter from Me to My Sixteen Year-Old Self
Hello, Wade. I am you.
I am sending you this letter from far in the future; never mind how I did it. You probably found the envelope on your dresser with your name written in longhand on it. You may not recognize your handwriting because it has changed a bit over the years. So, to prove that it is really you I will tell you a couple of things that only you know. Continue reading “A Letter from Me to My Sixteen Year-Old Self”
Morning Walk in a Small Town
The frost has not yet melted from the windshields as I head out the door for my morning walk, but I leave the jacket on its rack anyway. On these strenuous hills I will be sweating soon enough. I live in Lone Oak–which is more or less a suburb of Paducah, Kentucky—and though there are no biking or hiking lanes here, you can still find quiet streets suitable for exercise. I stop at the curb to tighten my shoe laces, then walk on. Continue reading “Morning Walk in a Small Town”
The Teufel
Steven knew he should not be out at night alone. He had been told repeatedly to stay inside with the doors locked after dark. But when the moonlight beckoned outside his bedroom window, it was more than he could resist.
He made his way down the hill behind the house and into the corn field. The moon went behind a cloud and the long rows of corn were darkened. The nights were beginning to cool; a small breeze moved the leaves of the drying corn. He stopped to listen to the rustling of leaves–to inhale the dry, dusty stalks. Despite the night’s chill the dirt was warm under his bare feet. He pulled the drying silk from an ear of corn.
Suddenly there was a larger rustling of corn a few feet from Steven. Something big was moving through the field. It couldn’t be a person–people tended to stay in rows. This thing was bending the tassels of corn as it moved cross-ways through the patch. Steven became alarmed. It wasn’t more than thirty feet away now.
“Who’s there?” he said.
No answer, but the thing stopped.
Who’s there, I said!” Continue reading “The Teufel”
Too Many Words?
Decades of Journals
I had a journalism teacher in high school named Jean Williams, who designated me an editor of our high school newspaper. We got along famously, and I continued to visit Ms.Williams for many years after graduation. On one of those visits she advised me to begin keeping a journal. She said, “It’s our nature that we forget some things, and remember others wrongly. You will thank me one day.” Unfortunately, she did not live long enough for me to thank her, but as I sit here–over three million words later–I am truly grateful that I took her advice.
I began my first journal 34 years ago, and have kept one each year since. I was living in Roanoke, Virginia in 1979, and bought my first blank journal at Roanoke Stationery downtown. It was one of those old shops with high stamped tin ceilings and creaking wooden floors. Dimly lit shelves were lined top to bottom with stationery, pens, tablets–all manner of writing implements. It smelled like the first day of school–like ink and fresh paper. Two old gentlemen approached–each with long white whiskers, looking like they stepped out of the 1800’s–and quietly asked if they could be of assistance. I told them I wanted a journal and they directed me immediately to a variety of them, some of which had the upcoming year embossed on their covers. Continue reading “Too Many Words?”
Made in the Shade
Ah, the shade garden. Cool, dark and serene.
On hot August days nothing beats retreating to the sheltering shade. Whether it’s an old lawn chair under a tree, or a hammock swinging gently under dappled sunlight, escaping the heat and activity of a summer’s day could be just a few feet away.
If you don’t have a large shade tree where you live, you can create your own artificial shade. Here is a photo of a shady area under a pergola I built. It didn’t take long for the wisteria and hummingbird vine to create quite a shady respite.
I let my green thumb sort of go wild, I’m afraid. I may have over-planted a bit, but I just let everything go wild to provide even more shade from the hot afternoon sun. (see below)
A variety of plants love the shade and are thankfully quite easy to grow. For color nothing beats impatiens, and for cool contrast to dark leaves, try caladiums in shades of white or pale green, in addition to the usual red varieties. Don’t forget hostas for perennial ground cover. And elephant ears make a delightfully bold statement. Ferns (the native kind–not the annual Boston ferns) can be easily planted and will return and spread each year. Even moss can be made to flourish around stone if conditions are wet enough.
Just keep the water hose handy, for most shade plants also require evenly moist soil conditions.
© Wade Kingston
When My Boss Was Murdered
Sometimes the unthinkable becomes reality and murder touches our lives. It can hit us so unexpectedly that it’s like a sucker punch knocking us breathless. Such was the case with me in Roanoke, Virginia, in the wee cold hours of January 3, 1986.
When the phone rang at 4 a.m. that Friday morning I fumbled for it, still half asleep. For a second I didn’t recognize the sobbing sounds coming from my boss’ secretary, Carolyn, on the other end of the line. I had never heard her cry. She had always been such a cheerful person. Then she stopped sobbing long enough to speak. “Wade, Tony is dead.” Continue reading “When My Boss Was Murdered”
Springs Spring Eternal
In rural Lyon County, Kentucky, there are several springs dear to my heart. A few of them are known to most residents of Lyon County, but some are not.
For more photos and story, as well as video. Continue reading “Springs Spring Eternal”
My Summer in the Tree Tops
I spent a summer working in an apple orchard on Bent Mountain, near the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. It was one of the most memorable times of my life.
Read the story and see the photos. Continue reading “My Summer in the Tree Tops”
Can You Love a Pet Too Much?
Is it possible for humans to love animals too much?
It has been 15 months since I took my Miniature Schnauzer, Katy, to the vet and had her put to sleep. No, not put to sleep. Let’s call it what it is: I had her put to death. It was 9:14 a.m. on a Saturday morning when the vet inserted the needle into her leg. I was holding her closely, whispering “It’ll be alright. I’ve got you.” into her ear. Seconds later she slumped limply onto the table, strangely heavy in my arms. The vet put his stethoscope against her chest and pronounced that she was gone. I thought my heart would simply break.
It came upon me so suddenly that I was unprepared. Maybe the vet and his nurse had heard it before—a grown man’s anguished sobs. I didn’t really care if they saw me or not. I couldn’t really help it. The nurse was sympathetic, saying, “It can be so hard to say goodbye.” I choked out a “Yes, it is. She was such a good girl—my baby.” She had been my dog for 14 years—now she was nothing. Her little heart, always so strong, was stopped. And I did it. I murdered my little girl and the pain and guilt that descended on me was a horror.
I drove her to that vet in my truck that morning as she sat quietly, staring straight ahead during the drive–looking neither left nor right. Not at all like the younger Katy. Younger Katy was always up against the window, trying in vain to stick her head out of the crack, and barking at anything that moved. What a joy she was in her youthful vigor. But on this day she didn’t try to get up on the door. Her eyes had cataracts so she couldn’t see very well, and her hearing was going too. Her body had become covered with tumors, and she often yelped in pain when I tried to pick her up. There were some mornings when she appeared unable to get out of her bed. Sometimes she limped, and she often vomited up her food. It seemed I was in danger of waiting too long. I hated to see her struggle. Continue reading “Can You Love a Pet Too Much?”
Perfect vs. Good Enough
It is tough to be a perfectionist in an imperfect world.
Several years ago, when I was a pizza restaurant manager, I had a problem. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted the restaurant to be spotless. I wanted the pizzas to be made to spec. I wanted the stock rotated so that the first in was the first out. I wanted my employees to be on time, to be dressed according to the code, and to know their jobs. I wanted smiles.
I wanted my customers to be happy, the bank deposit to be made on time, and the produce to arrive when it should. In short, I sweated the details because I was a perfectionist. But that’s a good thing, right? Maybe not so much. That year my staff had a birthday surprise for me when they presented me with a gift. I unwrapped the long slender package and inside was a riding crop. They were only half-kidding. Continue reading “Perfect vs. Good Enough”
Satisfaction vs. Job Performance
Since the beginning of the human relations movement the theory that “satisfaction causes performance” has been widely accepted. A more recent theory maintains that “performance causes satisfaction” and has also gained prominence. An even newer theory now insists that satisfaction and performance are not related, but that both satisfaction and performance are themselves “functions of rewards.”
As an older citizen, and one who has held a variety of jobs, I have had the opportunity to see each of these theories in practice. While working as a restaurant manager in my younger years I was encouraged to follow the “satisfaction causes performance” theory and did so to the best of my ability. Within my limits I did what I could to keep employees happy so that they were productive. It never really worked all that well. After all, what makes one employee happy may do nothing for the next. I doubt whether any manager is truly capable of making an employee happy or satisfied with their job. At our restaurant there was a lot of disparity among employees when it came to job performance. Continue reading “Satisfaction vs. Job Performance”
Beatles vs. ABBA vs. Rolling Stones
I love the Rolling Stones. I’ve seen them perform live three times, and of the many bands I’ve enjoyed, their three concerts ranked first, second, and third in my book. You read a lot lately that this current tour could be their last, and that it will certainly gross hundreds of millions of dollars. I’m sure that’s true, just as it’s true of Madonna when she tours, and would be true if U2 were touring this year. If ticket prices average several hundred dollars, then an act only has to round up a million or so patrons to guarantee huge grosses.
And yet I also recall reading—several times over the past dozen years or so—that ABBA has been offered the staggering sum of $1 BILLION dollars to reunite for a tour. That’s a lot of zeroes. And you know what? You can’t believe everything you read these days, but I’ll bet it’s true. I say that because I believe an ABBA reunion tour would be worth it—at least in the sense that the promoters would see a hefty return on their investment. I believe an ABBA tour would dwarf anything out there in any year they choose. A real “event.” The pent-up demand from younger fans alone would guarantee success. Throw in the grannies and those of us who never saw them on tour in the 70’s and, well, let’s just say money would flow like a river. Can you imagine the lines to buy T-shirts?
And yet, the reunion tour that would beat ALL reunion tours, the one that would set records so high that not even the combined efforts of the next ten groups could match it, can never be. Continue reading “Beatles vs. ABBA vs. Rolling Stones”