Road Trip/Memories

November 20, 2017

I’m going to Pittsburgh for the Packers game with my cousin, celebrating our fiftieth birthdays.  We are renting a van and taking a road trip.  We are spending some time on my farm, Spruce Knoll.  Spruce Knoll is my childhood memories of the farm.  I was the country boy, riding the tractor with my Dad, watching the neighbors toil in the fields, and smelling my Mom’s homemade bread.  So many good memories.  We are looking at the house built before the Civil War.  The three blue spruces are still there. The barn is fallen down.  Mom and Dad are gone now.  I’m an author and a man.  At the time I never thought that I’d become independent.  The blue spruces are old and beaten, but the trees are strong like me.  This is the last time that I will visit my farm.  I left thirty six years ago when my parents moved to Wisconsin.

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Dreams

November 14, 2017

If I had Twitter, I would tweet before President Trump gets up to tweet.  I would be watching New Day on CNN in bed one morning when I see a tweet from President Trump, trashing me about Medicaid.  I will tweet back becoming famous selling a million books.  Salmon versus Trump, who wins the Twitter war?  Me, of course.  If Trump comes to Madison, I will be there to run over his foot.  I will make it look like an accident and it will go global.  Authors can dream, can’t they?

November 11, 2017

It’s the anniversary of my nonverbal friend’s death.  The government cuts taxes and health care to give people more money in their pockets to waste on gadgets and fast food.  The disabled are asked to sacrifice more like paying for bus tickets and health care on a fixed income.  People with disabilities can’t afford health care without making a decent income.  The government needs to provide the disabled a quality of care for people with disabilities to have productive and happy lives.  Society believes it needs a tax cut without thinking the consequences for the disabled.  All Americans want more money, including the disabled.  I think about killing myself in order to save the government money to help other people with disabilities.  I have done what I wanted to do, but I’m needed, cared, and loved by many people.  Suicide isn’t an option for me, but sadly some disabled Americans will kill themselves.  That’s a big price for a tax cut.

Bus fares up – ugh!

October 31, 2017

The new bus fare of four dollars a ride and having to sit out in the elements will change the lives of the disabled from independence to isolation.  Before my mother’s death two years ago I lived in isolation writing, emailing, and watching sports.  I was content being at home, but when my world changed overnight I  became an adult.  My work is at home.  I don’t go to work, but I work every day.  Authors don’t make much money maybe fifty dollars a year.  Over the last year, I have created a social life for myself, attending a playwrights group, going to the farmers’ market, watching the Packers at a bar with some guys, and sitting on the terrace at the Memorial Union.  I can do anything like driving my electric wheelchair down State Street on a beautiful day.  Across from my office sleeps my roommate, who is in bed for twenty hours a day.  When I told him about the bus changes coming, he said, “I can’t afford to go to Catholic Charities anymore.” Catholic Charities is the only place he goes to one day a week.  He has become a hermit and will become scared to leave the house.  My other roommate is artistic.  He is thirty with the mind of an eight year old.  He does laundry at a hotel four days a week.  He goes to the gym and does other activities.  He needs to be active or he will shut down.  I will write more staying in my office, writing another great America novel.  I will stop going out and take my anger out on my roommates.  One or two disabled people will commit suicide being at home all of the time.  Suicide is a real consequence of these new bus fare and a person in an electric wheelchair will freeze to death, waiting for the bus.  The change will hurt every disabled person in Madison.

Boo Week

October 25, 2017

It’s Halloween this week.  My roommates are handing out candy to the trick or treaters.  My artistic roommate will be dressed in full custom of some kind.  He will be excited.  And of course they will be in bed before trick-or-treating is over after talking about Halloween for weeks.  I will go out to the strip club to drink and have a lap dance.  I might go to my bar to watch a game and drink.  That’s a man.

Women

October 19, 2017

Women are beautiful inside and outside.  Women make a man think, challenging our ways.  The kind words and a smile of a woman makes a man’s day.  A small gesture can arouse a man.  There is nothing like teasing a woman or making them mad.  Women are everything to a man.  Women spin a man’s mind in circles.  That’s the beauty of a woman.  I won’t ever get enough of women.

Dreams

October 10, 2017

Every metropolitan area needs to have low-income apartment buildings for the talented educated physically disabled people.  Each apartment would have a small living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom with a walk-in shower, an office, and an intercom.  The twenty four seven staff would have their own lounge with a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and an office.  When a client calls, an attendant attends to the client before leaving again.  Clients would pay three hundred and fifty dollars a month in rent.  Also, the client must have a career being a productive member of society.  Staffing would be determined by the number of clients, their daily personal needs, and life.  The client with a career would have the privacy to work, pursuing their dreams.

Milestones

October 3, 2017

I’m going to a memorial service for my aunt.  I will see my cousins that I will probably won’t see again.  I will visit Mom for a few minutes.  She will say, Steven, how dare you fool around and drink.  No more women.  I mean it, Steven!”  I can hear her, but I laugh and say, “Sorry, Mom.  I love women.  Well, I have to write that best seller and women in it.  I have to go, Mom.  New York awaits.”  “Come back here now, Steven,” Mom demands, rising from the grave.  “I’m a man now.  Bye, Mom,” I say, laughing.

Fall

October 3, 2017

The crisp wind blows knocking off the leaves from the trees.  The soybeans are turning in the fields.  Apples and cider are being sold at the farmers’ market.  Squirrels are burying nuts in yards.  The geese are flying south.  Fall is here.  Winter will be here soon.

There are pavers at the Memorial Union dedicated classmates on the first terrace by the maple trees.  I enjoy sitting in the shade near the steps, watching the sail boats glide across the lake on a beautiful afternoon.  My classmates are special to me.  I have read some pavers, “I married her right here,” “Go Badgers,” and “Thanks for the best years.”   My paver would say, “English people college was the best.  But the greatest is sharing life with you.”
I think about us every day.  You inspire me through the good and bad times.  You were right I can do this.  You taught me how I work with people and compromise.  Maybe next year I will visit.  I love you.