Knock, knock!

“Who’s there?”

“It’s your Long Lost Cousin!”

My cousin came waltzing into my house singing:

“What’s it all about, Alfie? Is it just, for the moment, we live?”

“Hey cousin, what’s with the singing?”

My LLC had a big grin on his face.

“I like the lyrics and I’m trying to figure out, “What’s It All About?”

“Oh cousin, you mean you’re trying to figure out the greatest puzzle of all time? What Is The Meaning Of Life!”

“Yes, I am. I mean you and I are getting on, don’t you think about it?”

“My dear LLC, of course I think about it, I’m a WRITER!”

My cousin had a confused look on his face.

“I don’t understand life, at times it’s so hard and then you’re reincarnated!”

“Ha, ha, I think you’re joking now.”

“No, I’d like to live forever!”

“Well, my friend, you can!”

My LLC looked amazed at my statement.

“You’re not talking about red wine and Manuka honey, are you?”

“No, but they will take you a long way down the road.”

“Give it to me straight, cousin.”

“Well, you will never really die because every person you meet and in my case, everyone that reads my writings, is affected by us in some way!”

“What do you mean?’

“The people we meet carry that effect on to everyone they meet. So, our ideas and values will last forever to some degree!”

“Wow cousin, I never thought about it like that. So, we are being remembered forever!”

“You’ve got it, cousin!”

“What about the “meaning” then?”

“Well, you and I are responsible for creating our own meaning and purpose in our lives. It’s a very personal thing.”

“Oh, I get it! What I do with my life is my responsibility and it has meaning and purpose to me.”

“Yes cousin, we are mortal and we are trapped in the present moment. So we have to make our present meaningful and purposeful. I other words, Carpe Diem, seize the day!”

“Oh cousin, I love it when you talk like that!”

“It’s the truth, my friend.”

“So, my ideas and values will be remembered and passed on. So, I don’t have to physically live forever even if it was possible.”

“That’s right, cousin.”

“That’s great news because if I had to live my life over again, I don’t think I’d have the STRENGTH!”

It was a dark and stormy night and I was a writer lost in a strange city! I had also, lost my inspiration. My writing wasn’t selling. All of a sudden a building came out of the gloom. It was completely lit up. Every window had light. It was like a welcoming beacon. The door was open, I walked in, and it slammed behind me. Every wall was lined with bookshelves with ladders zigzagging up to the ceiling, which must have been at least 50 feet high!

There was not a person in sight. I was alone with all those books!

Then, I heard voices, they seemed to come from the books!

All the greats were there: Hemingway, Twain, Fitzgerald, Woofe, Maughan, Sheldon, Shakespeare and many, many others. Their voices were all around me.

“How are you?’ A deep voice said.

“I feel like Hell, can you show me Heaven?’ I said.

“In Hell, writers are chained to their desks and whipped.”

“And in Heaven?”

“In Heaven, writers are chained to their desks and whipped.”

“Hell and Heaven are the same!”

“No, my friend, they’re not,” said an unseen voice. “In Heaven your work gets published!”

“I don’t write so good,” I said.

The voice continued: “If you can tell stories, create characters and devise conflict and have passion, it doesn’t matter how you write.”

“I find it hard to play God in my stories!”

“My friend, a blank piece of paper is the way of telling us how hard it is to be God.”

“I’ve lost my concentration, I can’t focus!”

“Your words are your lens to focus your mind,” said a woman’s voice.

“I’m not sure what people want to hear from me.”

“Don’t try to figure that out, just think about what you have to say. It’s all you have to offer.”

“My stories don’t seem to come alive.”

A voice from the very top shelf said: “The unread story is not yet alive. The reader, reading it, makes it live!”

I shook my head, my eyes were blurring. The books seemed to be dancing!

“But, I write such hopeless stories.”

“There’s no point in doing that, we all know we are going to die: what’s of prime concern to you is the kind of man you are in the face of this.”

I was trying to soak up all this knowledge that was being bantered about the walls of books!

“I struggle to find ideas.”

“My writer friend, everybody walks past hundreds of story ideas everyday. The writers are the ones who see two or three of them. Most people don’t see any.”

“I wonder, some times, if I have anything of interest inside of me?”

Many voices in unison said: “Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, all his qualities of mind are written in his stories.”

“Some times I feel so drained after a long writing session.”

“Three or four hours of fiction writing can leave you drained. Because, for that period of time you have been in a different place with different people!”

“I want to write stories the whole world will read, stories that people will react emotionally to, stories that will make them happy, stories that will make them scream and cry in pain and anger!”

“You will, my son, you will!” The voices started to fade away.

I walked out the door singing: “ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE!”

“ I feel very protective toward my Long Lost Cousin. We lost contact for 50 years and then we got connected again. We are only 11 years apart but I feel like a father to him. When we first met, I was 21 and he was 10. So I first knew him as a boy. But now, when he has a problem, and he has quite a few, he comes to me for sorting out.

One day he came to me with the problem of the moment.

“Cousin, I feel like my thoughts are all jumbled up in my head. I need clarity!”

“On what issues are you looking for clarity?” I said, sympathetically.

He thought for a moment.

“I’m not really sure!”

I shook my head.

“What have you been doing to alleviate this stress?”

“I find popping plastic bubble wrap very helpful!”

There was a problem here!

“Cousin, I like to do things that I want to do, and I like to get things I want. But people tell me it is bad and wrong to be selfish! I’m confused.”

“My dear LLC, no one knows your needs and wants better than you and you have a great interest in seeing them fulfilled. Your happiness is up to you. Be selfish!”

“That’s a load off my mind,” said my cousin, smiling.

“Anything else jumbled up?”

“I interrupted some one the other day and they said they disapproved of me. This bothered me.”

“This remark shouldn’t bother you. You can’t please everyone, and don’t give yourself chronic anxiety by trying. Just because of one specific fault, don’t put down your whole being.”

“Thanks for that, cousin, I feel better already.”

Did I sort him out for today?

“One more thing, I got angry yesterday defending one of my opinions and I felt bad about it.”

“Your anger was an honest communication of your feelings, it was not an attack on anyone.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, cousin.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Too bad we lost 50 years!”

I thought I was finished for the day, when…

“One more thing, cousin, sometimes I think there are people under my bed!”

As I walked him to the door, I said:

“Well, go home and cut the legs off of your bed!”

The three of us walked into this huge room with three mini kitchens. Myself, my Long Lost Cousin, and a mystery contestant, neither my cousin nor I knew this mystery man! He had disheveled hair, deep frown lines and crows feet, a sort of facial nightmare!

We all had our own mini kitchen with high dividers so we couldn’t see each other cooking.

The panel of judges were seated at a long table in front of us. They could see what all of us were doing and we could hear their comments!

We all had our own special meatloaf recipes that had a few ingredients that made them special!

At the start we all had to tell a cooking or food joke.

I was number one and my joke was:

“The two things I cook best are meatloaf and cherry pie.”

My wife said: “Which is this?”

Giggles all around!

My LLC was number two, he said:

“I was picking through the turkeys at the supermart.

I couldn’t find a large one.”

I asked an assistant, “Do these turkeys get any bigger?”

She answered: “No, they don’t, they’re dead!”

Loud laughter from the judges!

The mystery man was number three, he said:

“What’s this on my plate? In case I have to describe it to the doctor!”

Silence!

We had a half hour to prepare our meatloaf mixtures and one hour to cook it.

One of the judges said:

“Look at number one, he’s mixing his mixture with a large wooden spoon.”

Another said: “Look at number two, he’s mixing with his hands in rubber gloves!”

The third judge said:

“Number three is using a heavy-duty mixer!”

“Well, at least, they’re all different.”

My LLC  said: “I use rubber gloves because I have a phobia about feeling squishy things.”

Laughter from everybody!

The judge said: “Son, you need a therapist!”

When the time was up, we served our dishes for the judges to taste.

The judge asked me: “What ingredients make your meatloaf different?”

“Lots of garlic and Worcestershire sauce!”

Number two said: “I use turkey and sliced mushrooms and jalapeno chopped.”

Number three said: “Lots of black pepper and sour cream.”

All dishes tasted, the judges award went to my LLC, who was beaming from ear to ear!

“Your prize is a pair of monogramed rubber gloves!”

I gave my cousin a big hug.

The mystery contestant walked off in a huff!

Someone said he was a chef of some notoriety!

I was in the Newsagent getting my morning paper. All of a sudden the headlines hit me!

‘”EBOOK “WEB OF GUILT, A CHICAGO STORY” SELLS A MILLION!”

The story was in every paper. I bought them all.

The newsagent smiled and said, “I downloaded your book and I will start reading it tonight.”

“Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy it.”

I walked out into the sunshine in a daze. It seemed everyone I passed was smiling at me.

The next thing I knew, I was on a huge stage with the TV cameras trained on me!

A beautiful lady in a long red evening dress was handing me a gold statue. Etched on the base was, “Popular Book Of The Year Award”.

A microphone was put before me and I started  talking:

“Thank you very much for this award. I want to thank everyone who supported my writing. I want to thank my mother and father, my wife, and my Long Lost Cousin, who is my muse.

The auditorium exploded with thunderous applause!

THUD! I opened my eyes and I was lying on the floor by my bed. I must have rolled off in the excitement of my dream!

That pastrami sandwich I had last night must have had a funny effect on me!

NOTE TO MY READERS: “Web of Guilt, A Chicago Story”, is available on Amazon Kindle. DOWNLOAD IT NOW, LETS MAKE THE DREAM A REALITY!

Guilt has always intrigued me. How people can torture themselves with guilt. I even wrote a novel about it called, “Web of Guilt”, which I published on Amazon Kindle.

But for this story, I will cite the case of a friend of mine, who I will call Jim.

Jim knocked on my door one night, when I opened the door, he looked absolutely drained!

“I feel terrible, can I come in?”

“Sure, Jim, come in.”

I led him to a comfortable chair and got him and myself a beer.

“What’s the matter, Jim?”

“I have these terrible guilt feelings over my mother’s health,” he said, grimacing and biting his lip.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, as you know, I’ve been planning a months holiday traveling around Europe.” Jim was taking deep breaths and staring down at his feet.

He continued: “I told my mother of my travel plans and she said:

“A month away! You know how sick I get if you aren’t around. If you go for a month I could have a heart attack! The doctor told you how weak my heart is!”

“Mother if you take your medication you will be fine.”

“No, I won’t be fine!”

“By now my mother was getting cantankerous!”

“I’ve looked after you for many years and now you are going away for a month. I will die, I know I will!”

“I walked out of my mother’s apartment feeling totally miserable.”

“Are you still going ahead with your travel plans?”

Jim was visibly uncomfortable with that question. He looked pale and he had a haunted look on his face.

“I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are filled with self-loathing.” Jim kept fidgeting in his chair.

“I think you have to stand your ground, Jim. Your mother is attempting to manipulate you with guilt. She will be alright. Make sure she has all the telephone numbers she needs to call for help and that she is as comfortable as possible. And make sure she has all her medication handy.”

“Sometimes, I think if I feel guilty enough, I will be freed of these terrible feelings.”

“Jim, the present moment will still be the same and your guilt is just wasteful activity. Don’t throw your life away because someone makes you feel guilty.”

“So, you think I should go on my trip?”

“Absolutely, why cancel and be miserable? The present moment is the only life you have, the only time you can enjoy and be happy!”

“Okay, I’ll go on my trip. I’m getting fed up with my self-imposed guilt over my mother’s health. I’m feeling bad but the hurting can do nothing to change anything.”

“That’s right. Your mother will use every guilt-producing trick to keep you from living your life. In the end she will respect you for standing your ground.”

A month later, I saw Jim again.

“How was the trip?”

“It was great and I’m planning another one for next year!”

My Long Lost Cousin (LLC) and I went to a local baseball game. Our team was called the Lions. The team had a guy dressed up as a lion as a mascot. The chap in the lion mask growled and scared the children and even some of the adults! I thought this character in the lion mask must get a kick out of being a forceful person. I wondered what he was really like without the mask!

After the game, while my cousin and I were enjoying a beer at our local, my cousin said: “I think I better get a lion mask so I can be bolder and more forceful!”

I smiled.

“Cousin, we all live our lives wearing many masks to cover up our feelings of worthlessness and our inadequacies.”

My cousin screwed his face up like he didn’t believe me. Then he started laughing.

“Wouldn’t if be funny if everyday was Halloween. We could wear our masks and get to know each other before we took our masks off!”

“Well, cousin, we do wear a mask almost all of the time. After a while you don’t know what it is like not to wear one!”

“What scares me is what would happen if all our masks were off! What would be hiding behind them?”

“Right! Who are we really, when the masks come off?”

“Oh cousin, this is like a horror story!”

“True horror is the removal of our masks!”

My LLC had a look on his face like he just saw the Devil!

“We wear many masks every day. One at work, one at home, another with friends and one with strangers. We pretend we’re someone we’re not. Is that right, cousin?”

“Yes, you’re getting the gist of this. There are three basic faces we show to the world. First, there is the person one thinks he is, then the person others think he is, then there is the thing one actually is.”

“That last one, cousin, the one that actually is you, that one is difficult to know.”

“Yes, spot on cousin, there is a great difference between the self that is masked and the deep reality of your inner self.”

“How does all this come about?”

“Well, we start out as empty containers, blank pages, then our parents, teachers and society fill up those containers. So with all this input, who we really are gets covered up!”

“Wow! Cousin, I’ll have to think about how many masks I have!”

“Yes, my dear cousin, the real you is invisible!”

“Do we ever get to see our real selves?”

“Yes, but these moments are rare. There are times when we’re caught off guard, without our masks, and these are moments of sudden revelation. We catch a glimpse of our real selves!”

“So, we do get to peek under the mask once in a while.”

“Yes, cousin, but only on rare occasions, then we return to our masks and we play out the insanity of our lives.”

“Well, cousin, I’ll have to go now.”

And off my LLC went with his bag of masks.

The next day, I went to see the Lions play ball again. The lion mascot was there cavorting on the sidelines. All of a sudden the lion mascot came over to me and took his mask off!

IT WAS MY COUSIN!

“Happy birthday to you”. The strains of the familiar song was belted out by the assembled group. I looked at the huge cake before me with 100 spelled out with candles glowing brightly.

I scanned the crowd around me, there was one other centenarian there besides me. It was the year 2038 and the life expectancy was now 90, it was about 60 when I was born.

“How did you manage it? Living to  100, I mean, and in such good shape,” said my friend Harry, who was 90.

“Red wine and Manuka honey,” I smiled.

“Hey, that sounds good!” shouted Harry.

“Did you have many worries as you grew older,” said Jenny, who was 80.

“I’ve had a few worries through my life, but I’ve tried to keep them to a minimum. But when I hit 70, my biggest concern was not how long I would live, but how I would age and what my quality of life would be.”

“Blow out the candles!” cried Ellen, who was 86.

I blew them out easily and made a wish. The group clapped.

“Well, you’ve done better than Mozart’s nine children,” said John, who was 75, a mere youngster!

“How’s that, John?”

“Only two of his children made it to adulthood! Those two only got older by luck!” laughed John.

“Well, when I was 70, I felt I still had some tread on my tires, but as the years went by, I started to feel the road more and more. But I still can get around fairly well with the help of my cane.”

“I used to take life with a grain of salt. Now, I take a few milligrams of Valium!”

I laughed, John was the joker in the group.

Smiling, John continued: “We erode from the outside and from the inside. Isn’t that right, Dave?”

“That’s right, John, but it’s no joking matter!”

John went silent for a moment.

“Our outsides age with sunlight, rain, wind and cold. Our skin starts wrinkling. Our insides age with chemical reactions that generate trash in our system and then cells die. This rubbish accumulates over time and this is called aging. Some cells renew themselves, but not all.”

“Hey, Dave, lighten up! The rest of us want to live to 100 also!”

“Sorry people, the lighter side is that there is some self-repair and healing.”

“So what’s the end result?”

“Well, my friends, lets put it this way; there’s wear and tear on all of us, outside and inside, but some parts do repair themselves and this process equals aging!”

“Bring on the red wine and Manuka honey if this will protect me from becoming a gibbering sad old freak!” said John.

“Hurray for us!”

The entire Writing Group, all 20 of us, raised our glasses. We were all laughing our heads off!

“My doctor told me, laughter was the best medicine, I’m surprised they don’t charge us for it!”

Where would we be without John to lighten our day?

I continued: “We all write to keep our brains and senses stimulated. Creativity keeps you engaged with the world. We older people want to entertain and inform our readers. Even though we are not jumping around physically, we can express ourselves in our writing and get it out into the world. Creativity makes you feel alive!

The entire group shouted in unison: “We Are Writers!”

You need a passionate interest to keep you going!

We all went home that day standing a little straighter!

BRING ON THE RED WINE AND MANUKA HONEY!

Note: Manuka honey is called the “healing” honey, known for being high in antioxidant properties and having anti-bacterial healing powers. The bees collect the nectar from the Manuka trees in New Zealand. This honey destroys harmful bacteria without damaging body tissue.

One day when I was meditating in my favorite watering hole, a fella jumped up on the green padded stool next to me and bumped my elbow!

“Sorry mister, I’m a bag of nerves!”

He was  a big blond chap, about mid-thirties, with a twitch in his right eyebrow. I’m very observant because I’m a writer.

“Bartender, give me a beer with a whisky chaser.”

“Wow, that’s heavy drinking for the afternoon,” I observed.

“Mister, I need it. I’ve got two phobias and on top of them I get panic attacks.”

He was hyperventilating as he spoke.

Could I help his chap with some cognitive therapy?

I finished my glass of red wine and ordered another.

“What are your phobias?”

“Claustrophobia and hypochondria,” he said, breathlessly.

‘The fear of being closed in and worry about having a disease,” I said, knowingly.

“Holy Cow mister, do you know a lot about these things?”

“Not a lot, but I am a writer and I do a lot of research.”

My panicky friend ordered another whisky!

“Hold on now, don’t drink so fast. I want you to listen to what I’ve got to say. It might help you!”

His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Can you really help me?”

“I’ll try,” I took a sip of wine and swirled it around my palate.

“How do your phobias manifest themselves?”

“Well, the other day I entered an elevator and I felt panicky right away. I felt trapped and then I started sweating. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I had palpitations!”

“Do you worry about having heart problems?”

“Yes, my father died of a heart attack.”

“Do you fret about getting a disease in general?”

“Yes, sometimes I feel like I’m losing control.”

“In the elevator, did you feel confined like the walls were coming in on you?”

“Yes, and I started having a panic attack also. I was sweating and shaking all over.”

I felt sorry for this chap, he’s got it bad.

“Do you suffer from the fear of things closing in?” he asked me.

“Not really, the only thing is sometimes when I want to go to the tavern I’m afraid it is closed!”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Right, a little laugh to make you relax.”

“Okay, I’m relaxed, now what’s the treatment?”

“As far as your fear of heart disease, I would go to the doctor to make sure your heart is okay. Then stop monitoring your body constantly for evidence of disease, this just reinforces your fear.”

“That sounds logical to me. I’ll try it.”

“Now, when you go into enclosed spaces, I want you to breathe slow and deeply, inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Use some positive self-talk, such as “I can cope with this and any difficulty life brings”. Slow down and breathe deeply  and let go of anxious thoughts.”

He smiled and said, “I have to go now, thanks for the help.”

The next day the phobia chap came in the tavern and sat next to me again.

“Well, how did it go?” I asked, hoping it went well for him.

“Great! I went to the doctor and he told me:

“I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is:

THAT YOU’RE NOT A HYPOCHONDRIAC!”

I had a dream that I was on a different planet. This planet had one large Green Country and two small countries, one Blue and one Grey.

The Green Country was a rich country and was inhabited for thousands of years by the Green people. It was known as  a country of thoroughbred people!

Then one year the people from the Blue and Grey countries started sneaking into the Green Country through cracks in the border.

The Blue and Grey people were sick of their poor existence in their countries. They wanted a better life in the Green Country!

The government of the Green Country thought maybe this was a good thing, to have a mixture of people, it might work out to the benefit of the Green people!

After a while nobody knew how many Blue and Grey people were in the Green Country. There were wild estimates that infuriated the Green people. Some Green people said the estimates were exaggerated to stir up the population. It might be less than the estimates or it could be much more!

Life was hard where the Blue and Grey people came from, so they wanted to get into the Green Country, where life was good and there were many benefits!

Then large scale protests began in the streets of the Green Country. Social unrest was rampant, it became a thorny issue; should the Greens push out the Blues and Greys from the country? BUT, would that be against their Melting Pot Rights?

Walking through the streets and sitting on the park benches, you would hear all kinds of conflicting conversations:

“The Blues and Greys are getting the benefits of our Green Country without contributing to it,” said one Green, angrily.

“But some of them do bring skills to our country, that are needed,” said another Green.

“They are taking some of our jobs, when our people are unemployed. Should Green jobs go to illegal Blues and Greys?”

More and more Greens were coming to add to the conversations.

“Some illegals are having children here and the parents claim the right to stay in the Green Country. The Melting Pot Rights Act says they are entitled to a family life and can’t be kicked out!”

“The Blue and Grey children are born here, so they are legal citizens. But, if the illegal Blue and Grey parents weren’t here in the first place, their children would have been born some place else!”

“It’s hard to converse with some of the Blues and Greys.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they are well-balanced, they have a chip on both shoulders!” said a Green, laughing.

“We are suffering from over population!”

“Our leaders don’t know what to do. They have one meeting after another and nothing gets sorted out!”

“Can there be a solution to the problem, when there is so much bad feeling around?”

“Maybe we could stabilize the population in some way to allow some immigration.”

“One thing that has to be done is to plug up the cracks in the borders. Then maybe we could have an orderly in and out flow of migration.”

“It could work, if our leaders would agree to it and stop kicking the problem into the long grass!”

A big burly Green stepped into the crowd and said:

“The other day a Blue stopped a Grey on the street and thanked him for letting him into the Green Country and giving him so many benefits!”

He said: “But I’m not a Green!”

“Oh,” said the Blue. “Where are all the Greens?’

“Probably at work,” said the Grey.

***

All of a sudden two Greens jumped up on a box and started shouting. It was like a Bug House Square where anybody could get up and speak.

One Green said: “The Blues and Greys keep coming in with their strange ways, we Greens are losing out identity!”

The other Green shouted: “Someday we’re going to have to learn to live together!”

***

I woke up in a cold sweat.

I WONDER WHY I HAD SUCH A STRANGE DREAM!