No One Should Be Irreplaceable…

  It’s a nice, quiet, cool and drizzly Saturday.  A day of coffee and catch-up blog reading.  The satellite radio station seems to know what kind of day it is and the music is appropriate.

Angela came in to see if Stacey left a key…no, even though he’s been in the past two days. It did give us a chance to chat about how are faith strengthens our respective relationships and how nice it is to be back with the love of our lives; and how happy God has made us in spite of ourselves.

A rental from a guy with stuffed wild turkeys that he personally killed. Apparently, his wife does not have the same appreciation as he does for the finer things…just wait until he gets the coyotes back from the taxidermist. Better go ahead and rent a larger unit now.

Rental trucks coming and going.

A relatively calm work day in the self-storage environment after such a busy week.

I went through a dozen or so resumes in hopes of finding just the right person. I found three. I interviewed one. She, I think, will be perfect for the assistant position. It amazes me how some people can almost beg for a job and then not show up for the interview—without a call to say they won’t be showing up. I have a feeling there’s a reason they were unemployed. It is alright, I got the cream.  Alas, I can’t start her until sometime next week because the VP who is in charge of the next stage of hiring is on vacation until Monday. Shouldn’t someone else be able and/or authorized to do this in his absence? No One Should Be Irreplaceable…

This past week was public sale week for those who haven’t paid their storage rent in a few months. One hates to do it but, it’s all part of the business. Unanswered legal letters, phone calls, messages, voicemails…sold!

Next week should be more fun as soon as the young lady starts training – I like training. I often feel like a potter taking raw clay and forming a new pot or figurine. It really isn’t about me, though. It is about another chapter, with a new character.

Twenty days to go until my long weekend of time with my wife and friends; and fishing…and relaxation.

Jay  🙂

So, last night before bed my wife presented the profoundly daunting question, “If right is right, why would anyone go left?” I had no argument there. 😉

 

One More Night

One More Night

A shorter story by Jay LeBorgne © 2014

The boy aloft in the crow’s nest calls out, “land ahead,” as the ship breaks from three days of fog.  The sun is long set–I can see the shoreline aglow from the beach fires welcoming this long weary crew.  None as weary as her First Officer, his last night at sea.  The last night with this smelly, fine, crackerjack crew.

The Captain sleeps while I dream.  I dream of Abigail, my love of near a quarter century.  My love for life and the reason for my existence.  She waits for one more night.  I am as elated as I am tired.

The crew ready.

“Helmsman, Right 10 Degrees Rudder,” I bellow though the wind does not warrant such a voice.

“Rudder 10 Degrees Right, Sir,” he responds sharply.

I am tired, too tired to continue anything but dream of the life that awaits me with my beloved Abigail.

“Chief, prepare sails for anchor.”

“Aye, sir,” he growls before he barks his orders to the seamen.

All I can see is her light ashen hair blowing in the breeze that I struggle to hear over the commands.  I stand erect just beside the wheel, the helmsman starts to whistle a bawdy tune.  My mind snaps to attention to avoid allowing the tune to defile the vision of my beloved Abigail.  Time has stopped for me but the sails are furled.

“She’s ready, Lieutenant,” the Chief almost whispers.

“Thank you, Chief.  All hands bring ship to anchor!”

She is ready.  “Let go!” I shout for the final time.

The anchor runs to coastal depth until it hits sand.  The ship slowly rests to drift.  Waters calm.

“Set the watch,” commands the Chief in his less-than-mellow tone.  “Crew to muster.”

Unexpectedly the men gather in a loose group in front of me.  The Chief speaks softly, “Sir, we would like to say how much we’ll be missin’ you as First Mate.  You’ve been a fair commander, Sir…well, we just wanted to let you know, Sir.”  The Chief was slightly teary-eyed.  He is a fine old sailor.

“Well, thank you, Chief.”  I attempt to choke back my emotions.  “I too, would like to extend my gratitude to each and every one of you men.  I’ve been at this a lifetime and you are the finest crew an officer could ever hope to have under his command.  Each of you made me the officer that I am.  Thank you.  And I mean every word.  It is one thing to be the leader of men but it also takes good men like yourselves for me to be that leader.  Carry on, Chief.  Good night, men.”

“Fair winds and following seas, Sir,” they respond in well-practiced unison.  They all depart to their places.  I cannot understand their mumblings.

After briefing the Captain and a farewell toast with him, I lay to my stateroom and make my final journal entry.

     Ships anchored awaiting morning tide.  All hands present and accounted for.  All is well.

     Lieutenant William Dunlop Smithson, First Officer, Sailing Ship Oak Leaf Cluster

     This the 5^th Day of June in the year of Our Lord, Eighteen Hundred Ninety-five

I doubt I will sleep soundly.  The ship turns toward the shore and again and through my portal I see the beach fires burning, lighting an otherwise dark land.  The stars are finally visible, the air crisp with a soft wind.

And Abigail’s ashen hair wisps across her face as she smiles brightly.  Her hazel eyes glimmer in the sunlight…

One more night.

 

The Kings of Fortune County (preview)

Well, here I go.  I’m not one to put my stuff out there before it is ready but I’ve had several requests for a taste of my first #book to be published, which I hope to have accomplished by the end of the year.

You can find a sample at my wordpress website:  http://1stclassdocumentservices.com/the-kings-of-fortune-county/

Remember, it is a work in progress but I am so enjoying this creative outlet.

Jay 🙂

 

Why Do You Read?

Reading — memories of my youth…

I accidentally came across two of my favorite short stories today while searching for something entirely different on the internet.  At English 204-DCC, I (re)read The Chrysanthemums and The Snake by John Steinbeck.

I remember these two stories in particular had an impact on me some 40 years ago but at first, for the life of me I couldn’t recall the specific reasoning I had back then.  Of course, I read them now and I can appreciate the insight Steinbeck had for his observation of people and their environment but what could it have meant to me at 15 or 16 years old?

Then, it came back to me just as though I was back in 1975, English Literature class, with 20 other long-haired, pimpled kids–I wasn’t in that class, I was in Salinas Valley in California, or the laboratory of a biologist.  I was somewhere other than my desk at school.  I was traveling.  It was then that I became aware of what reading a good or great story truly meant.  For the first time I was conscious that I could read; travel, see, taste, smell and hear what someone else was describing with words.  The ability to see and feel all of those things instilled in me a passion for adventure outside of my normal life; and that sense of adventure later became my life.

We each have genres that appeal to our nature.  I would just like to say, “Thank you, John Steinbeck…thank you story tellers.”

Jay 🙂