Cemetery

A few years ago, an NPR story caught my attention. I found the subject very interesting. Apparently there are people who own trucks that they have modified to blow a large cloud of thick black exhaust on other cars. They call it coal rolling. Prius drivers are the number one target. Although fascinating, I also found it really disgusting that someone would go to the trouble to do such a thing. For some reason, I gave the idea a lot of thought and began to keep an eye out for a truck coal rolling a Prius. I wondered What a typical coal roller would be like? Are they all men, or do women roll coal too? I told a friend about this phenomenon and he told me he had been the victim of one of these truck drivers. He drives a Prius. I did see a pickup truck with a lot of black exhaust around it one time on the freeway. Maybe he had just done the dirty deed. The truck had a sign advertising electrical work. I wrote the number down, figuring I'd call and complain. I could totally imagine calling that phone number and having the driver answer. Then what? He'd probably laugh at me.

Amy and I drive through the nearby cemetery three or four times a week. It's a popular place and we usually see other people there. People riding bikes, walking dogs, jogging, visiting graves, cleaning up around graves, and other types of activities. it's usually quite peaceful with its dirt roads and forest. We are bird watching and looking for animals. It can be spectacular at times. We've seen a few foxes, a coyote, Blue Heron, and quite a few hawks. sometimes, we just see squirrels and deer. As we were driving through early one evening, we saw a man walking. He looked to be in his early eighties. He wore a sweatshirt, khaki pants, and tennis shoes. He had a kind of sweet but sad smile. When he got closer, we exchanged hellos. He seemed like a nice person. We talked for a few minutes. We introduced ourselves. His name was Gerald. He told us that he lived a few blocks from the cemetery and he came everyday to visit his dear wife who was buried there. She died seven years ago. He had this look on his face. He seemed to be smiling, but sharing his story obviously brought back memories. He was such a nice person and his story just made us feel very happy. We talked some more and we told him about the nice fox that we are always hoping to find again. We said goodbye and that we'd probably see him again sometime. Amy and I were both glowing as we slowly pulled away from him. He was just a little behind the car when Amy looked at me and said, coal roll him!

Tobacco

A guy with thick glasses and a blue wind breaker looked at our tickets, tore part of each one off, gave us the other parts and let us into the inner part of the stadium. It was all concrete, steel beams and cage like inside. Very crowded and noisy. The energy level was high. Definitely a new experience but not a pretty place. More of a gritty city type of place. My Mom and Dad and I walked up a couple ramps and a flight of stairs toward our upper deck seats. Seemed like we walked for a long time and then there it was, the prettiest most finely manicured green grass I had ever seen. Tiger Stadium. There were players everywhere warming up. Detroit Tigers and Minnesota Twins. I loved the uniforms, hats, spikes and those blue stirrup socks. All of it. There was something really spectacular about the way the Tigers' uniforms looked against that grass. The dirt in the batter's box, pitcher's mound and around the bases was also really special. Looking at the field and all that was going on down there, it really didn't even seem real. I remember thinking that I really wanted to be a professional baseball player someday. The thing that really caught my eye however was how cool the players looked with that huge wad of tobacco in their cheeks. All of that chewing and spitting. That was the best. Something to explore as soon as possible.



I played on a softball team for two seasons and then a Little League team for one. Those Little League pitches were thrown a little too fast for me. My Mom asked me if I was afraid of the ball. "NO!" I exclaimed. How could she insult me like that? I was afraid of the ball. My baseball career was over at the end of the season.

Soon after that however, I was able to live out my dream of being a tobacco chewer though. One night I rode my bike up to 7-Eleven and bought a pouch of Beech-Nut leaves. Not knowing exactly how these leaves worked, I did the most obvious thing and stuffed them into my cheek. I rode as I worked on the leaves. I sucked on and chewed them until it just seemed hopeless. I even spit a few times. It was not much fun. I spit them out and kept riding. Then I got a little dizzy. I went home and to bed.



After some word of mouth research, I learned that professional baseball players chewed a type of tobacco called cut plug. I went to G&P Market and found some of that. It was in a thick rectangular chunk and looked like dark brown cork. I cut a piece off with a pocket knife and went to chewing. I walked down 12 mile road, toward Bob Corbin's house. When I got there, I spit it out and we watched The Three Stooges and some Bugs Bunny. I was pretty dizzy the whole time. When I left to go home, I cut some more. I chewed and spit as I walked. At that point I was really dizzy. Almost feeling drunk. It was really hot weather and I went into a cold sweat. I had to spit it out. I threw up a few times when I arrived home at about 4:30 pm and went right to bed for the rest of the night. There is not a whole lot more to tell. I've never really had the urge to try any type of chewing tobacco since then. As a matter of fact, I still get a sick feeling remembering the whole thing.

Cat Shop

Slippery, shiny black beauties sleeping in woven hammocks. Green eyes abide with playfully sharp teeth and small white beards.