The Things You Learn

I can't believe it is already November.  The weather here has finally turned, so no 90s in sight - 80's in the day and down to the 60's at night.  It's the perfect time of year - you can  forget about the 100+ days of summer, enjoy the fresh air blowing through open doors and windows, hearing the birds chirp, not scouring a shady place to park your car, seeing people out and about - it's great.  

Learned some great news this week.  My oldest grandson was accepted at NAU.  Not sure if he'll attend but it was one of the ones to which he applied and I'm happy for him.   Not only that yesterday he started his very first job.  At Subway -I told him no extra meat and to be sure to check his fingers before leaving.  No wonder he thinks I'm the crazy grammy.  I can't wait to see how long this will last.

Ray has bronchitis and he didn't want to suffer alone so he thought he would pass it along. The Z pac is working and thank goodness I didn't get it as bad, so Mucinex is working just fine.  Gone are the days when I didn't get anything - along with everything else, maturity takes its toll on immunity too.  

Just like squirrels gathering nuts for winter, I'm starting to gather things for the big C.  It's all around and if you don't get the stuff now, you're liable to not find what you want later. I told Ray to plan on taking another suitcase along with us.  I figure if I start telling him now, I won't have to listen to him later.  Good thing SW allows two free bags per person.

Guess that's it for now - here's this weeks story.

Karen Treadway looked again at the paper in her hand.  Yes, the address definitely matched.    Her assignment was to interview the latest candidate for city council.  When she called to schedule the appointment this was the address she was given.

She turned off the ignition and sat staring at the stately house with its wide verandah.  Bamboo rocking chairs, hanging, and potted ferns decorated the porch.  It was like a picture out of a magazine.  She walked up the flagstone path to entry doors of solid oak with stained glass panels and rang the bell. She could see the outline of someone coming to the door but when it opened  - she lost her voice.  In front of her was the most handsome man she had ever seen.  He wasn’t overly tall, about six feet, with the blackest hair, the bluest eyes and the build of a man who didn’t spend all his time behind a desk.  He was dressed casually in khaki’s and a blue oxford cloth shirt, opened at the collar, with loafers and no socks.  He extended his hand and led her inside introducing himself as Jock O’Hara. His well-modulated voice could soothe a crying baby.

“Nice to meet you, Karen Treadway.”

“Same here, Mr. O’Hara.”

“Oh, please call me Jock.  Mr. O’Hara makes me sound old as dirt.”

“Okay, Jock.  You know why I’m here, where would you like to begin?”

“First, why don’t you tell me a little about you and this community.  I’m fairly new here.”

“Yet, you’re running for city council.”

“What better way to get to know your surroundings.  Truly, I’m really not that new.  I was born and raised here but left during my junior year of high school.  My parents divorced and my brother and I moved with my dad.  It was only within the last year that I moved back.”

“I see.   I’ve only lived here a short time myself.  My sister moved here with her husband.  When she had difficulty with her first child, I came to help out and found that I liked it here – much more so than the big city.”

“Seems we have similar tastes.”

“That it does, Jock.  So tell me why are you running for city council and why do you think you can make a difference.”

“Midville is a great place but I think it can be better.  Some of the council members are rooted in place and refuse to see that change can be a good thing.  If Midville doesn’t move forward, it will be left behind and swallowed up by the other communities around us that are more progressive.

“So you think the ordinance before the council right now should be changed to allow big box stores.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what it sounded like to me.”

“Let me explain.”  He went on to give me his version of what the town should do.  While I agreed with some of his ideas, I didn’t want to see Midville change from the charming close knit community it was to Bloomington, the next town over and I told him so.

“Karen, you’re here to interview me, to get my take on things.  If and when I win the seat, then you can give me your ideas.  Right now this article is about me.”

“You don’t have to get all high-handed on me.  You asked me about me and this town and I gave you my thoughts.”

“A little defensive, aren’t you?”

“Maybe so.  So what else what would you like in this article?”  I heard my tone and when he clucked his tongue I knew he heard it too.  A half hour later I had a page full of notes and a snootful of Jock O’Hara.  He may be the best looking guy I’d ever seen and his charm knew no bounds but for some reason, he brought out the worst in me. 

When he walked me to the door he said he couldn’t wait to read the article. 

“I’m sure.”

The editor made a few changes but basically published my story as presented.  Jock O’Hara called to thank me and invited me to lunch.  I asked if this was a thank you for the article or just because he wanted my company.

“Boy, you really are something, aren’t you?”

“I think so.”   He laughed.

“How about it’s just lunch?”

I agreed to meet him at the Brickyard Café the following Tuesday.  The Brickyard had been around as long as Midville in some form or another and was the centerpiece of Midville’s charm. I arrived before him and requested an outside table.  It was a beautiful day – too nice to be inside.  I watched as all eyes followed him as he entered and was led to my table.  Lots of envious eyes, I might add.  Jock O’Hara would win the election on his looks alone if the women of Midville came out and voted.

My guard was up, I didn’t know what to expect of Jock O’Hara.  If this was a thank you for the article, professional behavior was required.  If this was a date – he looked good enough to be dessert. 

It was a little awkward at first but Jock’s charm put me at ease.  I still wasn’t sure if it was business or not so I was on my best behavior.  We talked about our past, present and what we expected for the future.  Jock O’Hara had been married, but it ended badly and he still seemed wounded.  He was an interesting man once you got past the façade he presented to the world.  I hoped this was a date, after all.  I found I really enjoyed his company.

We parted company after lunch and I still wasn’t sure what it meant.  Weeks went by and one day he phoned and invited me to dinner. 

“Are you asking me as a date, or do you need another article prior to the election?”

“Girl, do you give all your dates this hard a time?’

“Oh, so it is a date.”

“Yes, it’s a date.  Everything is off the record.”

“So I can be myself.”

“By all means.”

This time he picked me up and he took me to a charming restaurant on the outskirts of town. He seemed a little nervous and I asked him if everything was okay.

“Yes, it’s just that you’re a reporter and I’m not sure if you can be trusted.”

“Is there some deep dark secret in your background you’re afraid you will reveal?”

“Something like that.” 

“Relax, I’m not that kind of a girl.  Sure, I’m a journalist but I’m not into subterfuge.  We’re just a guy and a girl out to dinner.”

“Good, because there are a few things about me that don’t necessarily fit in with the 21^st century and it could cost me votes if they got out."

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Are you sure you want to get into this now?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, but mind you, this is just how it relates to my private life, not my public life.  I think women are the best thing since sliced bread.”  Karen laughed.  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Let me finish.  Women are more than capable of handling any situation; they’re smart, strong, resourceful and take on challenges much better than their male counterparts.”

“Thank you, I was beginning to think you were one of those ‘good ole boy’s’ who believe women belong in the home and not out in the world.”

“Never.  But, in my home,  I want the women in my life to take my lead, not be the leader.”

“Huh.”

“My marriage was a disaster.  We were two strong people who wanted to be in charge.  It doesn’t work in business and it doesn’t work in marriage.  One person has to have the upper hand. “

“So you’re saying the woman has no say.”

“It’s not what I’m saying at all.  You have a bad habit of putting words in my mouth.  What I’m saying is that there is input from both sides, but one side has to have the final say.”

“and that has to be the man.”

“Not necessarily, but in my case, yes.”

“Wow, and you expect to find a woman who will agree to this archaic way of doing things.”

“It’s not archaic at all.  At the paper, don’t you take instruction and follow the lead of the editor, who follows the lead of the publisher?”

“I suppose.”

“Well, it’s the same in a relationship.  Both sides have input but only one person makes the final decision and the other person accepts it as law.”

“…and this is what caused your first marriage to fail.”

“It certainly  was a mitigating factor.”

“…and the other factors.”

“I spanked her.”

“You did what?”

“I spanked her.”

“In fun right, not like she was really naughty and it was a punishment.”

“The latter.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know what to think.  I don’t mind a few spanks in fun, it’s kind of a turn on, but for real.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Is that a criterion for you buying me dinner?  If it is, I’ll pay for my dinner because right now I’m starving.

He threw his head back and laughed.

“See, right now I’d like to give you a few fun spanks.”

It was Karen’s turn to laugh.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.