Sunday, September 9, 2012

Momentary impulses

He'd have to sharpen it later. The chain on the saw was dull.  He was already half way through the trunk and would never be able to get the saw out of the tree if he stopped now.  The saw was working hard now.  The exhaust from the old Pioneer saw was blue.  It'd served him well, but like anything else, the old saw was nearing the end of it's useful life.

Finally, the arm of the saw makes it's way all the way through and the old birch tree begins to lazily lean and begin to fall.  The upper branches catch a the younger pine tree growing next to it and break of few of it's branches on the way down.  "Whoomph"  The old birch finally rested on the ground.

"Fuck" Hank said to himself.  He wasn't the lumberjack his father was.  Nor was he the mechanic.  Not even the carpenter.  That morning when Hank decided to finally take down the tree before future windstorm would no doubt take it down for him, he thought that he would avoid collateral damage the storm might bring.  It would likely damage other trees around it.  He'd wished his father were still around.  He could drop a tree through the eye of a needle.  As it turned out, he would have been just as far ahead to wait for mother nature to do it's work.  He now had a birch tree to cut up and a pine tree he'd hoped hadn't been damaged too badly.

He'd sharpen the old Pioneer's chain first though.

Making his way to the garage, he looked across the field at the old homestead.  He was empty now.  His father had passed away last year, and Mom was now living in the city with his sister.  Hank maintained the property as though they were still there.  He'd have to trim the cedars soon, he thought.  He laughed to himself remembering Dad toiling away at them with the manual clippers, resisting as always using the electric trimmer he'd bought him a few years ago.  Nostalgic as he might be at times, Hank would leave the manual trimmers in the garage and use the modern implement.

He took down the jig Dad had fashioned to hold the chainsaw chain for sharpening.  He secured the now removed chain in the vice and began his work.  It was tedious work, though not difficult.  He watched his hands and fingers.  He'd not noticed before, but they were starting to look like Dad's hands.  The lines in the knuckles were deeper.  The pads of his fingers, no longer supple like those of hands as a boy, now thicker with dirt filliing his cuticles from this morning's work.  Mom used to send him back to the sink before dinner to scrub some more after his superficial and mostly ceremonial handwashing before meals.

Hank woke himself from his daydream.  He needed some noise.  Otherwise he'd sink too deep into those memories.  He walked over to the cabinet he'd fashioned for his stereo in the garage.  Dad had an old radio that Hank was convinced only caught the signal of the bluegrass radio station.  If he'd never hear old Earl Scruggs again, he thought he could live with that.

He had is iPod in the dock.  He hit shuffle and the music started.  It was an eclectic collection of 'tunes' as Dad called his songs.  His were foot stomping of another sort.  Sugar Ray was singing about "No Good Woman".  He sure could lose himself in this music.  Those Chicago blues.  He started to file again, this time with a little more groove.  He was aware of himself.  Moving in what he thought was rhythm.  "Dance like no one is watching" he thought, and laughed.  He could hear Dad saying "Turn down them screamin' demons!"  He laughed again.

"You're going to throw a hip out, old man!"

He swung around to see Janet leaning on the door jam.  His heart jumped from the surprise.  Fuck, he hated when she did that.

"You have to be the whitest black man I know" she giggled.

"You scared the shit out of me!"  Hank put down the file and walked toward the stereo to turn it down.

"Let it play." she said.  Jimmy Thackery was singing "Grab the rafters before the floor falls away...."

"Am I as good as you?" she said as she began to move around the garage.  She slowly began to move around the pole where Hank's extension light was wrapped.  For a brief moment, Hank looked at Janet in the kind of way that one might look at a woman moving sleekly around a pole.  Maybe not in a garage, on a grease stained floor.  And maybe not at a woman in a loose flannel shirt and jeans, but just for a moment, it was in that kind of way.

Janet's bumped her head on the dangling extension light and that stopped her cold.  The look of surprise on her face made Hank laugh out loud.

"Fuck" she said. Hank laughed again.

Recovering, not so much from any injury, as the bump to the head was more humiliating than painful, she asked of Phil's whereabouts.

"He's sleeping off last night on my couch.  He called from Grossman's about 2:30 this morning.  I went to pick him up.  He came back here, ordered a pizza, and passed out before it arrived.  There is a full pizza in the fridge."

"That sounds like breakfast to me.  Let's get some."

"Sure, I'll get back to this later." He laid down his file on the workbench and turned off the stereo.

They walked toward the house and Phil smiled to himself.  He loved Janet's free spirit.  He wished he could be like that.  That brief moment came back to him.  He'd not allowed himself to act on impulses.  Phil was the "Oh-fuck-it-let's-do-it" guy.

But she sure looked good in jeans.......




Later....

Deaner


11 comments:

  1. What a perfect Sunday. I can hear the the chain saw humming in the neighborhood, always waking me up rather annoyingly I might add, on a weekend morning. I can smell the tools in the garage... and see my dad's strong hands of which I am positively assured, could do anything. I'd like to think we all have a little of Hank's responsibility, Janet's spontaneity, and Phil's oh-fuck-it-let's-do-it attributes. Give or take more or less. There is allure in all. One without the other is most likely irritating in reality.

    oh but the poor little pine tree...

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    1. It is with heavy heart I must tell you, the pine tree didn't make it.

      We can draw on all of them. Some days we are more than the other. Very perceptive.

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  2. Once again you sucked me in to the moment. I am not a garage lover, but finding my roomy working unaware of my presence is kinda hawt. I know exactly how Janet felt in that moment of discovery...
    Hank, the rule follower? Maybe...

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    1. Sometimes Hank can be so frustrating in his rule following ways....

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  3. I like when you get all nostalgic. : ) This was wonderful, simply wonderful.

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    1. It seems I read something recently that rekindled the nostalgia. Thank you.

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  4. In a moment where my attention is playing hard to get this got it...loved the moment...smiles

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  5. Thank you Lainey. I appreciate that.

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  6. This was an awesome moment.

    Kathy
    http://gigglingtruckerswife.blogspot.com

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