Ahh, it appears we have a suburban home with a Sicilian flag.
This is a discussion on Ahh, it appears we have a suburban home with a Sicilian flag. within the Off Topic & Humor Discussion forums, part of the The Back Porch category; Contrary to my usual preferred seating position, my computer chair does not face the door. Because of the limited number of outlets and the original ...
May 7th, 2005 01:48 AM
Ahh, it appears we have a suburban home with a Sicilian flag.
Contrary to my usual preferred seating position, my computer chair does not face the door. Because of the limited number of outlets and the original placement of the coax entry, there was only so much we could do with the placement of the computer desk.
I work late into the evening, most times past 2:00 AM, answering e-mails, responding to the forums and researching knives I might carry in my business; or as my wife calls it, "knife porn."
As you might expect, the house makes several bumps, groans and clicks late at night when your attention is muted and the senses begin to tire. Paranoid or not, it just seems a good idea to have a weapon handy. After all of these years I have many firearms, so I found it odd that I usually choose a 5-inch Italian stiletto.
A stiletto was the first 'weapon' I ever owned.
There are always parallels in life. The aspects that you might find exciting or groundbreaking are often events encountered in the weave of everyone's life. As a boy of about twelve, I learned the murky condition of being a 'good guy' by watching the film "Lawrence of Arabia." Most of the plot baffled me, but I did see the adult side of compromise and the way the world worked.
In the climax, Alec Guinness, playing Feisal, realizes that his fledgling country will still need England to survive, even in something as simple as a water pumping station. He sighes, and remarks, "It appears we shall have a British pumping station with an Arab flag." To me, it seemed like surrender. Several actors storm from the room, and it appeared that clan ties would once again rule the sands.
Anthony Quinn, a sheik from one tribe, approaches Omar Sharif. They have learned to fight together, but now it appears that old habits may re-emerge. While both are dressed in their finest clothes, Sharif pulls a dagger on his old adversary. Quinn smiles, and relates, "Always a beduin."
That concept I understood. I'm older, no longer living hand to mouth, hopefully wiser and now well versed in the situational ethics of a modern existence. That presents a certain comfort and a disconnect at the same time.
This suburbia is a foreign land, it is not where I was born. I lived a simpler existence of prom dances, learners' permits and team jackets. To that, there was always a stiletto in my right front coat pocket. And many years later when that old jacket was given to a friend's daughter, she remarked that the lining there was worn away. I had bittersweet smirk.
So as I type here in suburbia and I have a weapon fall to hand, I find that the comfort takes the shape of that same style stiletto. And if I am cornered here, then my last confrontation will be with Milwaukee street epithets and the slash of Neopolitan steel. Always the beduin. Always that young biker.
Perhaps the comfort of that weapon has little to do with actual utility. Perhaps the comfort is a tactile brush with an ever diminishing past. Perhaps I should stop celebrating birthdays.
Last edited by The Tourist; May 7th, 2005 at 12:41 PM.
May 7th, 2005 08:31 AM
Perhaps you should get some sleep!
Kidding! Thank you for reminding me to take some time and reflect. My little world revolves so much around the 'here and now & what is coming up next', that I rarely afford myself the time to look back on things. Your post has so gracefully illustrated a life cycle that has come full circle. Yes, you are older, and no doubt wiser, but if pressed, you are still that young, tough biker, good with a sharp knife and sharp skills.
I used to cowboy out here. Last evening, we attended my daughter's school function. As I drove my great aunt (my paternal grandfather's sister) home, we spoke of the land where the school and surrounding subdivision now stand. She told of Emmett (her brother) and days of cowhunting and long drives over this same land. Later, my father became a manager for a number of prominent cattle companies in the same area. Modernized, but still the same. I had not thought of the days when my father and I would pen cows in a long time. Hard life, but good. I'd have to drive quite a ways anymore just to show my kids cattle. And these rolling creek beds and palmetto roughs used to be home to many a Florida scrub cow. Now, its houses, schools and Publix super markets. But, I bet I could still run a headcatch and squeeze chute as well as any man.
May your stiletto always be as sharp as your mind.
May 7th, 2005 01:00 PM
I just got some sleep, but I feel that only my prose will be more crisp.
Yes, this is the age where a person reflects on events. And to be sure, I would never surrender the life now for which my wife and I have worked and suffered.
But I sure that there is something that enters your perception and if only for a moment returns that 'boy' to you. Is it the creak of leather, the hanging dust of hay, the lowing of cattle? Isn't there one perfect day that has always nestled on the edge of your mind?
I have some old pictures. The distance is now too large for anything but a memory. But once in a while, when chrome polish lightly singes on warm exhaust pipes, I would trade just about anything.
My wife usually calls for dinner about that time.
May 7th, 2005 01:24 PM
Yeah, there is. Its when I go to the closet, way in the back, digging around for something, and I run across my old Redwing boots. Pecos was the style. I can remember when my father told me to quite buying 3 $50 prs of boots and buy one $150 pr and be done with it. Each morning as I put on those boots, looking foreward to the work ahead, I realized how smart my Pops was. I spent most of those days trying to prove to him how good a cowboy I was. In these last few years, we have become great friends, as well as father and son. He told me not too long ago, I never had anything to prove, at least not to him. If I wanted to prove anything to anyone, it was to myself. I now do phone cable repair work in the same area I once worked cows. When I drive by the old 'Piney Point' pastures, I remember hunting quail with my father and grandfather. Sometimes I stop the van and walk around the double gates going in. That's where we'd first dump the dog out. There was a huge covey that stayed in the fence line west of the gate. We could always count on opening the morning with a few shots on the rise from this covey. Memories seem even more clearly when I handle the Remington 1100 20g my father gave me. Those were days I thought would be here forever. Now, I feel older than I should. But, it will pass, soon as my son wakes from his nap.
T, I really like our talks. Thanks
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