Old Men Have Old Thing's

A faint echo filtered down the stairs. Our old yellow wall-mounted phone with its clear crisp rings creped under the basement door with ease. I mean, who couldn’t hear it. Even my deaf old hound dog Shiner lifted his head, feeling the vibrations cascading down the wood steps. The old red dog with one black patch stretched and groaned as he rose. 

 

 

Chapter XIX entangled my imagination. I had stopped working on the list of events that plagued County Road 147: missing dogs, a dead lamb, a mangled bull, that old log splintered from side to side with deep grooves. Yes, those things required my attention in my official capacity, but not until I finish my read.

Chapter XIX of ‘The Man-Eaters of Tsavo’ by Lieut.-Col. J.H. Patterson, D.S.O. “Thrilling can’t wait to let Ted read it.” I said. 

 

 

Ted Jason, my best friend had bragged last night he just finished ‘Horn of the Hunter,’ but I could not stay on task, not since I found the set of tracks on the edge of the pond, but if I’m going to finish this book, I need to get to it. However the ringing is now louder than my concentration. 

“Mary! Baby! Phone!” The ringing finally made me break away from my jungle adventure to head up the stairs to our landline. Then, silence. 

 

 

Finally, my wife, Mary, called down. “Joan called, Ted wants us to play dominos tonight and swap books.”

 

 

Figures, I thought. “Be a dear and call Joan back. Tell them tomorrow; I’m still reading.”

 

“Sure thing, I think I’ll bake us a coffeecake for tomorrow night.”

 

 

“That’s fine, dear,” is what I said as I leaned over the stairs to gaze up. Her pale skin glowed like fine porcelain. Her sleepy brown eyes smiled at me. Her wild frosted auburn hair from the 70’s matched her bellbottoms, and at 62, I still found her sexy. Then my knee popped, busting my bubble, and refocused my thoughts on being old. 

 

 

What I thought was, I’m tired of feeling old, of playing old men’s games, and cake. Yes, doggone it, who knew you could become tired of cake. That woman of mine shot me a sideways smile that fired up my libido. Then the pain in my knee put me right back on track with the thoughts of being sick and tired of feeling old. 

I returned to my old work desk, slid the paperback novel in my leather vest pocket, and stared out at the water’s edge, thinking, reasoning, playing the what-if game, an old cops’ game. I ran my fingers through my black hair, well blackish anyway, and  noticed it felt thinner, "figures," I mumbled then ruffled my salt and peppered curls.

 

 

“Mary," I called out, "I’ll be back taking Cracker for a ride.”

 

 Then I pulled on my old brown Carhartt, and hit the door. Old men have old things. Old brown Stetson-check, old bloodhound-check, and if they are lucky, an old horse. With Cracker saddled and my henry secured, I headed out, ready to take some pictures with my new Nikon, and investigate.

I caught the last glimpse of our log home as Cracker cleaved to the edge of the trail. Mary and I live on the South slope of Heaven’s Basin. We have one hundred and seventy-five acres of rugged landscape. 

 

 

 

The locals call this ridge the ‘Big-Red,’ because it’s nothing but red dirt, red rocks and red cedars, with the added bonus of reddish-brown leaf litter moving about, and under Cracker's feet announced are path. My vast backyard is an angry stretch of awe. A tribe of wild goats skirt up the hillside fleet footed and fast. The leather cinch of my saddle whined as I shift my weight to snap off a few photos of these neighbors.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Cherry... when we inherited 16 acres of my Grandfather's 40 acres, I recognise many things in your Story. The rugged terrain and years of Cat Briar to pull down to make a Road. Old age arrives quickly with little Grace. You are so Prolific. truly, Pat

[Cherrie]

When we had the cattle ranch we had a big cat that roamed a big area right through our property. It killed dear and kept to itself. Even though I seen it moving up and down the dirt road late at night.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Cherrie.. the warmth of your story-telling has captured my aging attention. I love horses in the country-side and have ridden a few times; however, my horse will do whatever my neighbor's horse does... Trot or Gallop... with my horse scraping the side of trees through the woods... when I was young and care-free in my 30's. You have the Gift of Writers of Vintage Novels. I will look forward to reading more. I am "dressing" my husband in red and black flannel shirts with brand new Wrangler Jeans that are as soft as a Ducks down almost... to ease the Scratch of Aging. gently, Pat p.s. your Avatar is lovely.

[Cherrie]

Thank you Pattie I really enjoyed writing this story and hope to polish on it a bit.

[Patricia Wedel]

Thanks… you are a prolific writer… I like your style… as I can really appreciate every page as the story developed… Hope your Season of JOY is full of Contentment and Fireside Chats. gently, Pat

[FJ Davis]

Smartly written.
Was fascinated, throughout.
Glad I stopped by!

[Cherrie]

thank you, I wanted to let this story have a slow build, I'm extremely happy to hear you enjoyed it.

[roarke]

I liked the title of the chapter and the tone of the passage. I think you could even add a few more "old things" touches before taking the scene outside. Old thoughts? Old objects with history, more of the memories of the relationship? etc. Cherrie your narrative voice is so natural, its a pleasure to read your writing.

[Cherrie]

I have thought about a trinket on the old desk but I am still toying with the notion. And thank you i am thrilled it evolved in a natural way. Thank you so much.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Cherrie... I have not read a lot of Novels, however, your writing is a page-turner for me. I think of my grandfather who was a Coal Miner in West Virginia. When he retired, he bought 40 Acres in Delaware in the countryside. He plowed a large garden with a Horse and plow as he walked behind the horse. He had his own smoke-house and had a Hog he fed table scraps. My grandmother milked a Cow snd gathered eggs from her Chicken house every morning as she fed them with her shrill voice, "here chick chick chickie".. Every evening the olde victrola played Hank Williams country songs, "I'm walking the floor over you.. can't sleep a wink it is true"! Now I am old and love my old man with his beard and appetite. tenderly, Pat

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Cherrie... I read your Chapter again... it is still a page-turner and made me feel as though I was the Grandmother Clock ... keeping time with every tick tock I could muster up. Your talent is beyond the Stars and the Moon where words are wrinkles in time.
tenderly, Pat

[Cherrie]

I when a story can mirror the emotions of memory. The great thing about emotions is the events don't have to match to wake a moment that lives in us. I'm thrilled this little story kindled such a marvelous place.

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the chapter. The red bridge got my attention. I liked dear Annette, how you described County Road 147. I will keep reading. You tempted the reader with a interesting tale.
Coyote

[Cherrie]

I'm thrilled you enjoyed this, it's been dancing around my head and I decided to try and pin it down. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

I did enjoy and I enjoyed the story.

[barleygirl]

I love the way you make the fascination with "oldness" dance with the dreary acknowledgement of it. Your writing sparkles with originality & relatable ideas rarely uttered by those of us who are still trying to ignore the signs (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Cherrie]

I wanted an adventure hopefully that is what is going to happen, :) I re read moby dick and wanted that common feel to fire off the beginning. So often I start in the thick of it and I didn't want that here. Somewhere between everyday and turn the page, please. I am back to the keyboard knockon wood (sweating apples for a pie). Don't ya hate when life interrupts.

[Einstein Noodle]

your title hooked me with ease .. old man that i am ;) very fine job writing from the male perspective .. honestly .. not easy .. but your characters are all believable .. a great intro into a much broader story i think ... what lay along that path .. what discoveries, mystery and intrigue?? Shiner and Cracker and Big Red ... very cool names ... super original says i! .. the setting and scenes i see clearly .. especially the Big Red and the goats .. a wild place .. civilized by your couple and their neighbors ... or maybe not????? i like it .. will read on if you continue
E.

[Cherrie]

I'm so glad this has the right vibe, and yes I kind of like the setting too. I was ready to write a wilderness adventure, and wanted to make the main character a man ( so we'll see).