Month: December 2015

Christmas Age Calculation

tree xmas

 

I base my age on how many Christmas events I have been through. I can remember mom and dad holding us twins in their arms so we could see the lights on the tree. I remember the years my brothers, two older than my twin and I, were getting matchbox cars and us twins only received a plastic toy which made noises. I remember going out with our dad, trucking through the snow to find a spruce or fir. Those days were so hard.

My memory brings me to the time my mother made meat pies for Xmas and I got sick after eating it. I also remember the time my twin and I got Rock-em-sock-em Robots. Boy did we have fun with that. I remember my brother and I receiving baseball gloves from Wilsons Store, the tag still left on them. I recall the Christmas Mom told dad that she couldn’t truck out through the snow anymore, it was getting to be too much for her. Time is changing and I’m doing calculations of my own age.

I must be in my teen years, well my twin too. There is the year that the new tree comes in. There is no smell to the tree. The siblings and I, start touching the tree. The tree kind of looks real but has no smell. Interesting concept, fake Christmas. The gifts are unwrapped this year and my brothers and I received some matching pajamas.

My Dad this year tells mom he is going out to get a real tree this year. The boys all jump in the International Scout we have. My Dad drives up the road and pulls into “Dons Xmas Tree Farm”. The boys and I are not that excited about getting a tree from a farm. This is the first time I noticed that Dad is getting older. The tree hauling is just getting to be too much for him.

Another few years go by and a few meat pies and homemade candy. My oldest brother is now an adult. My age is calculating to be in my late teens. I have realized by this point that all I have to do is look back, dwell upon, checking every Christmas event and I can find my age. I since have dropped my regular birth date because it hasn’t been a good reminder. I wanted really happy moments and Xmas was a good reminder of time.

My mother and father set the tree up again. One sibling is in California and one is in Minnesota. It is only my twin brother and I this year. Mom tells us it is ok not to wear our matching pajama’s this Christmas. Time sure is flying and a lot of tree setup’s for my dad. Mom cannot help with the tree anymore with her being lame all the time.  No meat pies this year or homemade candy.

This year my folks tell us they are moving to Florida in the winter. I’m thinking what no Christmas with us? I was devastated by this announcement but I fully understand. Time is changing, people are aging. I know my age is calculating out to be and adult now. My brothers and I meet back again at the house, our parents are not present. My oldest brother mention’s to the rest of us about going out and cutting down a real tree. We all agreed with his thought. We made it happen and all of us siblings enjoyed the scent of a real tree.

I know my age is getting older, I have children of my own. They are calculating their own age. This program has now been set in motion for all my children’s children. Mom and Dad are not coming home anymore. They have set their own time zone and marked their own calendar’s of life. I have marked my own this year. I started making meat pies now for my own children, candy to be bought. I know the rock-em-sock-em Robots are long tucked away in some open landfill, between tires and old junk cars, at the bottom of the pile.

I am told this year that we have grandchildren to be happy for. I now have a reason to move on with this cycle of life. I will start this week to train the young ones of this new calculation of age. I look back at this great life of mine and know that many Christmases have been etched into my memory bank. I can be happy that I have been witness to a wonderful holiday. I’m very thankful to have family to carry on. I’m glad I don’t have to go out and cut down Christmas trees anymore, electing for a fake one. The smell of the real tree is gone. My son tells me he is going out to cut down a real tree for his own house this season. I know my age is calculating, clicking away, I’m marking the calendar.

D.H.Bilodeau 2015

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The Heist

 

 

diamond

 

 

The police were behind me and I was putting the pedal to the medal. I was shifting through the gears trying to keep one step ahead of the law. I had just been involved in the largest diamond heist in history. My brothers in crime and I had planned this robbery for two years it was supposed to go off without a hitch. My oldest brother, the ring leader Mike forgot this one important step, “How to get out of this place”. The streets were narrow and I was moving about eighty miles an hour. The tires were screeching at every turn, certainly they would hold up. I went up on the sidewalk to avoid hitting and small sedan car when all of a sudden I heard gunfire. The cops were shooting at my tires and one bullet went through the back window and lodged into the dashboard. The fibers from the dash filled the air and breathing was getting compromised. I rolled down the window to air the dust out when a shot came and hit me on the shoulder. The blast took my arm off the wheel and I swerved into a fire hydrant and then smashed into a chain link fence.

I woke up in a hospital, handcuffed to the side rail. Still not comprehending why the lockdown, I started hollering for someone to help. A petite young nurse came into the room. Her name was Lily and I could tell that she was a newly registered nurse, RN. She smiled at me, approaching gingerly. I spoke up, loudly too. WHY AM I IN THIS PLACE LADY? The nurse backed off and headed for the door. I tried again, Please why have I been brought to this location? Miss Nurse! Please Stop! I need to know why I am here. Lily walked slowly back toward me to explain.

Locked up in the bellows of the prison feeling so desolate, lonely, bored, and depressed. I have been marking in my notebook everyday I sit here. There has been no one to visit. I start thinking about my brothers and their whereabouts. I wonder if they have been captured like I. When will time move? This is a horrible place to be. I’m not sure I can take this anymore. Screaming out, there is no one answer.  Please! Please! Someone come here, I need someone to talk to. A man appeared. He was dressed in a dark suit, Louis Vuitton, best that anyone makes. The man stood in front of me. Sir, please listen to me carefully. I stood at the edges of the room, head between the bars of seclusion. The man replied, You need to tell me everything you know about the night of the diamond heist. Who was behind this? Who commanded the operation? It is what information that you give me as to a possible release from this prison. I spent the next two hours giving this man everything of importance. I was not going to tell him where the diamonds were hidden. I didn’t know where they were at this point anyhow. He didn’t ask.

This warm sunshine today feels so good. The woman on my side gives me comfort. It has been two years since my release from prison. Two days after the man appeared I was released. I lay here on the beach today, dreaming about what was to be paid for my freedom. My girl and I decided to walk back from the beach and go take a shower at our hotel room here in the Bahama’s. The door was found cracked open, I told my girl to go away, I needed to check this room. I ran inside hollering out at the same time. There was no one inside but note was on the floor next to it one single bullet. The note said this. “YOU HAVE TWO DAYS TO BRING THE DIAMONDS TO ROOM 59, MEET AT 6PM, BE THERE OR ELSE “. This was a threat that I could not runaway with. I was going to die if not completing this demand. The day came and I proceeded to the room. Room 59, I knocked on the door. A man said, ” Please Come In My Friend”. The room was very dark and a silhouette of a man appeared. The light turned on and in front of me was my older brother, the ring leader of the operation. Hi, how have you been brother? He replied. I was dumbfounded and excited at the same time. We hugged each other. Guess what brother? He replied. These words are etched forever, “WE ARE RICH”.                                                                                                     D.H.Bilodeau 2015

Where Have You Gone Mary?

Men in plane

 

The screech of tires made me turn and look what danger was coming at us. Mary and I were walking to Wally’s Store for a hot coffee and a pastry. This had been our routine every Thursday. The road we take is a shortcut from our trailer at the park. It is just a goat trail but on occasions vehicles take this road to get to the main road, Federal Road. Some people come back here to buy and sell drugs so we always make sure to go before dark. Mary turned her head too, screaming. There was a loud thumping sound and I saw Mary flying through the air.

Standing at full attention. The Commanding Officer was very intimidating. The squad and I were being instructed on our mission. We were going to war in a foreign country and the jet was leaving in five minutes. I had a few minutes to reflect on life. I was moving on since the death of Mary. She was my rock and I was hers. I was sitting here, looking around of where I was and where I was going. Richie, my friend since boot camp was sitting next to me. I could tell he was thinking about his family just like I was. I really was thinking about what life would of been like with Mary. I certainly had thought about her being my wife. The future of our relationship, children, everything people think about was going through my head and I was having a hard time mentally. I didn’t want to cry in front of my best buddy Richie but tears started to flow. The men and I were loaded into the plane. We were all facing each other, all sitting in jump seats. The men and I were starting to put on our game face, the hunt was on.

Jut back from my morning jog, I’m thirty-eight years old. Where has time gone? There is a lot on my mind lately and I am having a lot of stress at work. I took a quick shower and came downstairs for a coffee. I have to work in ten minutes so I’m going to suck down this coffee real fast. I’m out the door and a few minutes late for work. I can shorten this time if I take the shortcut down the road which is a cross-cut and comes out on Federal Road. I push the pedal down to move things along . I might just make it to work on time. Something flashed, I pushed the brakes on the Jeep real hard. I heard a thumping sound, bodies in front, flying debris.

Sitting in jail, newspaper in hand. I flip the pages to the obituary’s. The first page is showing a young lady. I start reading. Life taken suddenly, unexpected death. I look for her name, Mary.

 

D.H.Bilodeau 2015

The Smart One’s

 

 

 

 

The smart ones. I cannot remember what the year was but it was time to take the ice shack off Brettuns Pond. I came over with my dad and we met up with my uncle Maurice who lived right next to the lake. I was still a teenager and full of piss and vinegar.  The problem that existed was the ice shack was way out toward the middle of the lake and in probably two and a half feet of slush. The slush was surrounding the ice shack. Being with the two smart guys, I was instructed to go out and tie a rope around the structure. They coiled the dryer rope around my shoulder.  I went to be the hook up man, tying it down for a pull. We didn’t have walkie talkies back then so hollering was a must. My dad and his brother used hand signals which they learned in the paper mills. I was looking up and my uncle is pointing this way,  my Dad is pointing the other way. I later found out this means pissing it in or out the deckle on a paper machine, or the edge of the paper. So my journey didn’t go off without some issues. During my excursion I slipped and fell, completely soaking my backside. It was a rather cool day so I was starting to get very chilled. I looked out and both my dad and uncle are sipping on a glass of snake bite they called it. I finally made it to the shack and secured everything. I look up and see the hand signs again. This time I understand they want me to get the hell out of the way. Ok, No problem, I give them both the piss in and piss out instructions. I looked out and both my dads International Scout and my uncles Dodge Ram Truck are pulling from the shore. They were taking the stretch out of the rope. Both vehicles have now gone the length of the driveway and not an inch of shack has moved. This is not going to be good, some smarts coming out of me at this point. It happened, SNAP, POING! The rope broke and like a sling shot it went completely to shore. The SMART ONES didn’t figure on this . Sip of the snake bite again, scratch of the chin from uncle Maurice. Lets do it again,they replied. I went again and this time they put block and tackle on a large spruce tree. Who knows, maybe this was the smartest thing of the day. I walked out, not falling I must add. I hooked the rope on again, gave the hand signals and off they went, two trucks hauling ass. POING- PING! The rope snapped again. I came back to the shore, again to meet up with them. I needed to find out what the third plan was. Can you make it again son? I replied no. They both looked at each other and looked at the level of the snake bite in their glasses. Both of them nodded in agreement that it was time to give up. This was the smartest thing I saw all that day. Who am I to decide when enough is enough, I respected my elders and would do anything for these two men. Good Day folks. D.H.Bilodeau 2015

Day of Scratch Tickets

 

I’m a little kid at heart. Down at the local convenient store waiting for my fries to cook and sandwich to be made when something glittered at the counter. My eyes are like a hawk with bad breath but I saw the glitter, maybe a gleam of hope, a sign of something wonderful about to happen. I moved over that way, zigzagging about through the other patrons to find a shelf full of scratch tickets, lots of them. I waited in line about fourth out when this lady who I always see buying her daily dose of scratch tickets was at the counter. Oh boy, Now I’m going to be here for ten minutes or more. Could I please have a number one-number-two and a number twenty-five, and twenty-three and ahhhhhhhhhhh! Five. The clerk replies back to the lady. What was the last one before the last one and the second one after the first? My aching back, come on. I am about to blow a head gasket and start hollering at them but kept a tight lip. The lady scooped up all her tickets, looked me in the eye, giving me the snarl of death. Great, I’m here to buy some scratch tickets I stated to the clerk. What number do you want? I WANT THE WINNING NUMBER! Like the clerk never heard this stupid line, no one behind me laughed either. LOSER on my back I guess. I took a five dollar don’t ya holler ticket and paid the cashier. I’m now out in my truck and feeling real good about this one. Heck, I never buy these things so a win for me has to happen. I reach way down toward the twins in my pocket and find one penny. Good, This will do it, penny from heaven. I started scratching like no other, I needed quick money. Show me the sugar baby. I’m getting anxious, I just feel it. Match any two and at present and you win TEN THOUSAND. Boom! Present and a match of two numbers. I look on the back of the ticket and read the rules over and over. Match two and a present. I have two numbers and the present. I’m scooting around in my seat, raising my hands high in the sky, hollering in joy, when standing at my drivers side window, pistol in hand, was the blond lady. Never expect to win so when you do you can celebrate. Good day, D.H.Bilodeau 2015