Rude Awakening - Part 3

I left Starbucks and stopped at Schnucks that’s when I ran into Rocco. “Nice to see a friendly face.” 

“Thanks, nice to see you as well.” 

Twitch wagged his tail, so I reached down to pet him. “If you’re not busy tonight, you should come over for dinner and bring your pup. I’d like you to meet my family.”  

“That’s very kind, thank you. I don’t want to impose.” 
            “It’s not an imposition. My wife loves having guests and the kids will have fun with Twitch,”.  

“Thanks. What time?” 

“How about five? That’ll give us time to relax with a drink before dinner.” I texted Rocco my address. We waved goodbye. 

I called Stacy to tell her I invited Rocco over for dinner. She had never met him but was always up for having visitors. I mean, if I have to put up with Claudia then she certainly shouldn’t have a problem with my new writer friend. 

Soups are my wife’s go to choice for easy meals in the cold months. She loves soup. When I arrived home, she had a pot simmering on the stove. Stacy found a recipe on online for Jersey Stew. Weird, but she’s always looking for new soups to make, so it could be a coincidence. I sensed this was a recipe idea inspired by Claudia. Maybe my paranoia was getting the best of me. 

Rocco and Twitch showed up right on time. Twitch wore a saddlebag on his back, containing a gift to share with us, a bottle of Rude Awakening and three bourbon glasses. “What a smart and generous dog.” 

“It was his idea.” Rocco chuckled. I laughed, then introduced Rocco to Stacy and the kids. Both kids cuddled Twitch and asked if they could take him to their room. 

Rocco said, “Of course. He loves the attention.” 

I guided Rocco to the family room and poured two small glasses of bourbon. I handed one to him. We chatted a few minutes before my paranoia surfaced. I told Rocco about all my worries. He listened quietly and said. “This will require a longer discussion. It would be best if we meet for lunch this week. Your concerns may be exaggerated.”  

There was no doubt this was true.  

Stacy came in to tell us dinner was ready. She had made croissant sandwiches to have with the Jersey Stew. Surprisingly, the stew was very tasty and paired quite well with the croissandwiches. 

After dinner, the three of us spent about two hours talking. Stacy loves to read and was intrigued by my friends occupation, so it wasn’t a surprise that she found Rocco interesting. We learned how he became a writer and his writing routine. Interesting and fun evening. They headed home early but Rocco promised to invite us over to his house soon. 

“This is great! Now, we have two new friends and they both have amazing jobs.” Stacy paused. “So many hidden secrets in this small town.” 

“Yeah . . . two? Rocco and who?” 

“Claudia, you goof.” 

“Well, Rocco has a real job. Claudia’s a fortune teller, so . . .”  

“You need to get over it. She’s my friend and she’s coming over for coffee tomorrow.” Stacy crossed her arms. “It’s a surprise. I’m going to introduce her to my friends in the cooking club.” 

“That should be fun.” I smiled. “Oh, but she’s a psychic . . . so she already knows.” 

“You’re such a jerk.” 

I met Rocco for lunch at Bemo’s the following week. Although I had never been there before, Rocco was a regular, so we were allowed to sit and chat as long as necessary without any interruptions. I opened up to Rocco about my deepest concern and talked about my suspicions.  

Rocco said, “Psychics are real, but I’m not sure if Claudia is a psychic. She could be a fraud, but she’s certainly not dangerous.” 

Talking about my problems and quirks gave me some relief. It felt like a cleansing, when you had the right person to listen. I knew I was paranoid, and prone to believe all the negative self-talk. I was right to trust Rocco. His advice was solid as I expected and worthy of my consideration.  

*** 

Stacy worried about Ben and needed a plan to turn his anxious behavior to a positive by 

exposing him to the truth. She was a practical joker. You would never know that by her demeanor, but it was something left over from her college days. She had tricked Ben a few times in the past and always brought him back to reality. A shock much like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on your head, but it brought him back and reset his anxiety clock, even made him laugh. This time Stacy would need a partner, a cohort. So, she made a call to her new friend. “Hey Claudia, this is Stacy. I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“Glad to help. What do you need?” 

“It would be better if I explained in person,” Stacy replied. “Are you busy now?” 

“No, my schedule is pretty open.” 

“Great! Come on over. I just put some cinnamon rolls in the oven.” 

Claudia giggled. “I love cinnamon rolls. See you soon.” 

*** 

I received an email this morning that said I was on a list. But what kind? Not a list of prize winners. More like a warning, but for what? The email couldn’t be tracked, but stated I was third on the list. No other names were mentioned. This, of course only, ramped up my worries. I can flip to paranoia in a nanosecond. Was this some kind of sick game? I can’t imagine anyone doing this to me. 

Stacy was more level-headed than me, so I showed her the message and asked for her opinion. She frowned as she read the message. “This is weird, but it sounds like a prank or dare by a teenager.” She brushed her hair back. “People are doing a lot of crazy stuff these days. It’s probably nothing, but it might make sense to let Stan look at this. He still has contacts at the police station.” 

“Thanks, that’s a good idea.” I relaxed my shoulders. “He may be aware of crank emails like this.” 

“Oh! And Claudia. You should show the email to her.” 

My shoulders tensed again. “Yeah, I definitely won’t do that, but I’d let Rocco take a look.” 

“Why Rocco and not Claudia?” 

“I trust Rocco, and value his life experiences. Claudia creeps me out.” 

“You are too suspicious. People aren’t out to get you. It’s all in your head.” 

I didn’t say a thing. I just waved goodbye with the printed copy and walked out the door. Stan was washing his car in the driveway. I held the copy over my head, “Hi Stan. I wanted to get your opinion on this suspicious note I received.”  

He wiped his hands on his pants then took the copy. When he finished, he said, “It’s very likely a prank. There’s a lot of stuff like this going on these days.” He handed it back to me. “Think about it logically. Why would they be warning you of danger? That would put you on guard, unless the goal is to scare the crap out of you.” Stan turned off the hose. “If so, that seems to be working.” “To be safe, I’ll take this copy to the station to see if they’ve heard about any pranks like this. Unless you can track the, it’s unlikely you’ll ever find the culprit.” 

“I would appreciate knowing more.” 

 “I’ll ask around and let you know what I find out.” Stan took the email copy back. “The only thing I worry about is that these silly pranks sometimes turn into real threats.” 

I scowled “That’s comforting, thanks.” 

I thought about the list all day, threatening my sanity. I hoped Stan would come back with information that my paranoid mind could absorb and calm the crazy scenarios I’d concocted. 

Later in the day, Stan came by to tell me what he found out. “Ben, I wouldn’t worry about this email, unless of course you receive a second one.” 

“Okay, so just some prank. Something kids do these days?” 

Stan handed the copy back to me. “That’s the read on it. The guys at the station see a lot of this stuff, and it rarely progresses into a real crime.” 

I raked my fingers through my hair. “That helps. But what if I get another message?”  

“It’s doubtful that would happen, but if so let me know.” Stan continued, “It’s logged in as an incident, so they could do a follow-up.” 

I felt better the rest of the day, knowing that Stan was on top of this. 

The remainder of the day was uneventful, and this helped me forget about my concerns. During dinner Stacy asked if I had received any new emails. 

“To be honest I haven’t checked. Stan said it was unlikely, so I hope he’s right. I’ll check later.” 

Stacy said reassuringly, “Knowing there is none would calm your nerves.” 

“Yes, but right now I’m doing fine. I don’t want to poke the bear.” 

“That makes sense.” 

Once the kids went to bed, I relaxed with a glass of Rude Awakening while Stacy read one of Rocco’s mystery novels. I needed a good night’s sleep, so I decided to wait until the morning to look at my email, in case there was a second message from my prankster pen pal. 

*** 

Stacy was up before me and had brewed a pot of coffee. I poured a cup and sat down at the kitchen table. My morning routine consisted of playing Wordle, then checking email before reading the news. The word of the day was prank. Interesting! A coincidence or a sign? This reminded me to check my messages. 

I pulled up my account and found a second email which reignited my paranoia. It said a surprise will be coming soon. This put me on edge, so I told myself that a surprise could be good, but I’m not a convincing liar.  

Stacy tried to calm me down, but that was like trying to put out a forest fire with a water gun. She left me to sulk around the house all day until I finally talked myself out of the funk. 

Rude Awakening - Part 2

Later in the day, I headed over to Veterans Tribute Park. Exercise is another way to clear your mind. I need some activity to take my mind off these frivolous worries. As I walked around the trail, past the dog park when I saw an older gentleman with a German shepherd pup that just broke away dragging his leash. I could hear him yell, “Twitch, stop, get back here.”

As with children, the young dogs don’t listen. Twitch ran carelessly toward the street.  Since I was walking in the direction of his escape, I was able to grab his leash before he ran into the oncoming traffic at the park. The speed limit is fifteen, but to most people speed limits are merely a suggestion. The car was going at least thirty-five. Lucky for me the shepherd was a pup, because it’s doubtful that I would have been able to stop him if he was full grown. 

I walked back to the older man with Twitch in tow tugging on the leash trying to free himself. When he looked up, I was surprised to see . . .Rocco. I handed him the leash. Rocco nodded. “Grazie, amico.”

I smiled. “Prego.” I didn’t know much Italian, but I did know salutations.

“He hasn’t been fully trained yet, but he’s a smart dog.” He double wrapped the leash around his hand. “I’m Rocco. You have a good day.”

“I will, thanks, I’m Ben.”

He tipped his hat and we both went our own way. I continued my walk with a feeling of satisfaction. I couldn’t help but smile. Rocco no longer seemed scary. In fact, he seemed like me, normal. Then my brain did an auto-correct, you’re not normal. I laughed a little inside because I knew it was true. But what’s normal and how many of us are normal? Really, what’s so great about being normal.

Despite everything that happened or maybe because of everything that happened, I was feeling good. Positive things were headed my way. I drove home and as I pulled into the garage, I spotted a woman leaving Stan’s house. I did a double take and squinched my eyes to get a better look. The woman looked like Claudia, the psychic. No, that couldn’t be. I had to be mistaken. What the hell would she be doing at Stan’s? Just when things were going so well she turned up. After I parked, I sat in my car, watching through the rearview mirror. When she pulled away, I went over to see Stan.

I knocked on Stan’s front door. When he opened it, I said, “The woman who left your house looks familiar.”

“That’s Claudia. She’s a psychic who occasionally works cases for the police.”

“Fascinating.” What the hell Stan, she’s a scam artist! “So, are you back working cases part time?”

“Nah! I’ve known her for a few years. We started dating a month ago, now that I no longer work for the PD, there’s no conflict.”

Holy shit, she’s spying on me. “Oh! That’s great. I’m glad you’re getting on with your life after the divorce.”

“We’ll have you and your wife over for dinner next week. I think Claudia and Stacy will get along great.” 

“That would be nice.” Over my dead body. “I’ll be sure to warn . . .  tell . . . Stacy.”

I left, deflated after all that happened today. First I’m feeling good about my encounter with Rocco, then down finding out about Stan dating Claudia, the psychic bitch who was following me. I knew there was no proof of that. A coincidence, likely but it’s too convenient. When I got home, I went straight to the refrigerator for a beer. Sitting in the recliner gave me time to think, which is a good way to mull over the situation. Was I overreacting? Yes of course. That was my go-to reaction with most situations, but I rationalized the negative thoughts away with a little alcohol.

Stacy and the kids would be home tomorrow afternoon. She always has a calming effect on me. The day flew by quickly. I was busy at work, which occupied my mind with productive thoughts.

This was my last evening in an empty house. When I finished up after work, I popped by Mannino’s to get a bottle of cabernet. They also carry a selection of Kentucky bourbons. I don’t often drink bourbon, but I spotted a bottle called Rude Awakening. That name was too good to pass up, so I grabbed the only bottle left. Not wanting to cook, I called a pickup order into Mandarin Gardens for a General Tao Spicy Chicken entree and a side of Crab Rangoon. I arrived early and waited inside when in walked Rocco. He nodded in a friendly way, after recognizing me.   

This seemed like a good time to strike up a conversation. So, I asked, “How’s Twitch doing?”  

“He’s a pup, rambunctious as ever.”  

I laughed. “Dogs are great companions, but they need a lot of attention.” 

“Don’t I know.” He pointed at my order sitting on the counter. “Are you eating alone?” 

“Yes, my wife’s out of town with the kids. She’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Bring your dinner over to my place. Break bread with me and Twitch.”  

I was taken aback, since our first meeting had not gone so well. “That’s very nice, but I don’t want to put you out.” 

“No, no not at all. Twitch and I love company. We don’t entertain much, so having dinner with a new friend would be nice.” 

Well, how could I say no to that! “Thank you. Much appreciated.” 

“Just follow me. My home isn’t far.” 

He didn’t know I knew where he lived. Now I felt a little guilty for following him after our encounter at Mannino’s. “Great, thanks so much.” 

It turned out to be a fun evening. Rocco was very interesting and hospitable. We drank the wine and even had a glass of Rude Awakening. Rocco held up his glass, “This bourbon is excellent, and I love the name.” 

“I’m not much of a bourbon drinker, but the name is what got me to buy it.” I stood up to leave. “Thanks, what a great evening. Keep the bourbon. It would take me years to finish it.” 

“Thanks, I’ll keep it for the next time we get together.”

I drove home and retired for the night. 

The next morning, I woke up well rested. I wanted to be home when my family arrived, so I only worked a half day.  

After the long car ride and my wife was tired and as expected, the kids were wired. Stacy asked me to pick up a pizza for dinner. I placed an order with Imo’s. One large pepperoni and a medium four cheese. The kids only ate cheese. Stacy called while I was at Imo’s, requesting another pizza, a large Canadian bacon and pineapple, for our drop-in guests.  

Agreeing I said, “You know, Canadian bacon isn’t real bacon. It’s just ham, and pineapple is for fruit salad.”   

“It’s not for you. Just place the order.” She hung up before I could ask who our guests were. 

Finally arriving home with the takeout, who do I see sitting in the kitchen with Stacy? My neighbor Stan with his new girlfriend Claudia. Super, just freaking super. “Hi, what a surprise.” I patted Stan on the back. “Nice to see you again” Stalker… “Claudia.”

She seemed as surprised as me, but she nodded and fake smiled. “You too, Ben.”  

Stacy opened the cabinet and took out some plates. “I didn’t know you knew each other.” 

“We don’t really. We had a brief encounter at Panera’s a few days ago.” 

“Well, this is great.” Stacy said with excitement. “Did you know Claudia is a psychic?”  

“Yes, I am aware of that.” Too hard to find a real job!. “Very interesting.” Now the pineapple pizza makes sense.

“I guess you can tell Ben’s a skeptic.” Stacy sat down next to Claudia. 

“I’m not surprised. There are many.”

  Just then the kids ran in to grab a few slices. They were oblivious to those in the room. All they wanted was pizza. But my wife wanted them to grow up properly, so she introduced Claudia. 

They both said, “Hi.” 

She explained, “They’re not much for conversation.” Stacy handed each of them a plate. “Claudia is a psychic. Isn’t that fascinating?” 

The kids looked at each other then, both answered, “Cool.” 

Stacy said, “It is. Do you know what a psychic is?” 

Ben Jr. responded, “Yes, some kind of scientist, right? 

I looked at my wife. “Are we still paying for private school?” 

Stacy and Stan laughed, then we shooed the kids out of the room. 

After we ate, and our surprise guests left, we put the kids to bed. I sat down next to Stacy on the couch and commented, “You and Claudia have become fast friends. What’s your fascination with the psychic?”

“Isn’t it obvious. She’s smart, interesting to talk to, and has a great job.” She turned toward me with a puzzled look. “Your paranoia is starting to show. I know you’re suspicious about her job, but just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean you can judge her.”

I let the conversation drop because I knew it was futile and went to bed. I needed some rest. Perhaps a good night's sleep would improve my view of Claudia.

I woke up the next morning, but my opinion of Stacy’s new friend had not changed. 

Throughout the next few weeks, the more time Stacy spent with Claudia the more worried I became. Now, since Stacy and Claudia seemed to be attached at the hip, I conjured up a plan to protect myself. I was so paranoid that I even suspected my wife. I considered hiring a bodyguard so I went online and set up three interviews. 

I decided to meet a few potential bodyguards to get an up-close-and-personal feel for their style. The first two didn’t impress me. They seemed uninterested in my concerns. No enthusiasm at all. They were only interested in a paycheck. Today was my third and final interview with a bodyguard. I’d meet him at Starbucks. 

I was early. I’m always early. As I sat sipping my brew, a guy walked over to my table and asked if I was Ben.

“Yes.” I smiled, “Are you with Shaker Security Services?”

He stuck his hand out. “Jersey, nice to meet you.” He sat down. “Let’s get into it. How can I help you?”

I liked his name. A good name for a bodyguard. Actually, that shouldn’t be important as long as he was qualified, but it was to me. He was confident and listened, unlike the other two I’d met. I explained in general terms my concerns but didn’t go into extreme detail because of my paranoia.

“Ben, don’t worry I got this. We’ll figure it out. I’ve been doing this for years and have many contacts in the area.” 

“Contacts? I’m not in a position to pay others.”

He waved his hands. “No, no, everything is covered in my contract with you.” 

His name was strong and fit the job. He worked alone and lived locally. Jersey had a vibrance and a confidence that impressed me. I was feeling good about my choice. 

Just then Claudia walked up to our table. “Hi Stew. I haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“I’ve been busy, but I was going to call you later about a case I’m working.” Jersey/Stew looked at her then me. “I’d like to introduce you to a new client of mine. This is Ben.”

Claudia nodded. “Hi Ben. Great to see you again.”

Jersey said, “I didn’t know you two knew each other. Claudia is one of my sources I spoke about earlier.”

“Good to know.” Stew Baby. I stirred my coffee. “I met Claudia” Psycho “a week or so ago.”

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt your meeting. I’ll talk to you later, Stewart.”

“Small world,” Jersey commented.

“Yes it is. Do I call you Jersey or Stewart?”

“Either works for me. So, shall we get this contract signed?”

“I want to hold off a day or two” Stewie the bodyguard, what the hell? “but I’ll call you as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, really nice meeting you.” Stew waved. “Talked to you soon.”

I held up my coffee cup. Well, this went sideways quickly. Why the hell would I hire a guy named Stewart as a bodyguard? This isn’t working for me. His combined name could be a soup. Give me a small cup of Jersey Stew with a croissant. 

 

Rude Awakening - Part 1

The day started out pleasant. I stopped at Mannino’s market to get a loaf of Italian bread. The store was busy, but I wasn’t getting anything from the deli, so I didn’t need a number. I weaved my way through the crowd pointing at the bread so the other customers would know I wasn’t butting in line.

My mood was upbeat, which is how I like to approach the day. But I must have offended an older gentleman because a menacing scowl appeared on his face. His expression gave me a chill. Have you ever had a bad feeling about a person without words being spoken? His face had a rugged appearance like life had been difficult. 

I smiled and nodded but his look grew more intense. He dressed well, with a fedora and a tailored overcoat, which seemed too formal in a small town.  I could feel his stare until I moved away. Nothing could be done so I shrugged it off, thinking he was having a bad day. With other errands to do, I quickly forgot about our encounter.

           Later, at home his image reappeared. I thought Whitey Bulger, the Boston crime boss. He hid in plain sight for many years without being discovered. As my thoughts about the old guy swirled around in my head, the more my imagination blew up. The picture I painted was of a retired mob boss living out the remainder of his life in the small town of Cottleville, Missouri.

A week passed and thoughts of the old guy evaporated. Life goes on, as did mine. The Italian bread at my house was getting low. In my life, there is no better bread than Italian. I’ve eaten it since being a kid. Every couple of weeks our neighbor, Sam would bring us a loaf from ‘The Hill’. A memory of simpler times. So, after stopping at the bank and post office, I popped into Mannino’s. 

This time I wanted to get some deli meat, turkey and hard salami, so I pulled a number, grabbed a loaf of bread and waited for my turn. Chatting with a woman I casually mentioned my encounter with the old guy last week. She raised her eyebrows. “Yes. That sounds like Rocco.”

“Hm! Rocco?” I laughed. “Sounds like a hitman’s name.”

“I don’t know his story, but rumors say he had a questionable past.” She lowered her voice. “He’s mysterious and creepy. He scares me, so I do my best to avoid him.” 

After my number was called, I collected the deli meat and then checked out. While the cashier rang up my items, I asked her, “Do you know Rocco? A customer who wears an overcoat and fedora?”

“Rocco!” She twitched. “I don’t talk about Rocco.” She handed me the grocery bag. “My advice . . . Don’t ask any more questions.”

Dumbfounded, I took my bag and walked to the exit. So befuddled, I pushed on the wrong door just as another customer was trying to enter. We both pushed until I realized I was keeping him from coming in. I stepped back and waited until he stepped in, then apologized, “I’m so sorry.” When I looked up, there was Rocco.

He walked in and mumbled, “Cafone.”

I left the store and quick stepped to my car, started it up and drove away. But about a half block away I pulled over and turned around. I wanted to see what car he was driving and where he went. I needed to tail him. The thought crossed my mind that if he was a retired mobster tailing him wasn’t a smart move. Smart has never been an adjective that described me. No, not a MENSA candidate, but I am curious.

While parked near the store, I searched the Internet on my phone for the Italian word he used. Maybe cafone was a compliment about the leather jacket I wore. Nope it was not. Loser, he called me a loser. 

My wait was short, only five minutes. Rocco left the store and got into a black Lincoln. Of course, I should have guessed. I scooted down in my seat looking through the steering wheel to watch him. When he pulled out of the parking lot, I followed him at a safe distance, at least I hoped. This was the first time I followed anyone, so my experience was restricted to what I learned from TV detective shows. 

He turned onto Weiss Road, then made a right turn on a private road. I didn’t follow him. Smart enough to recognize a bad idea. There were quite a few acres with a good-sized house sitting in the back of the property. Home sweet home.

Now I knew where he lived, but that didn’t comfort me. Why would it? With all the acreage he owned, there was room for many bodies. Ground-penetrating radar might reveal something interesting. My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Trying to knock these stupid thoughts from my brain. I yelled out loud. “No. No.” Then I slapped myself on the side of my head. I needed to relax. This has happened before, my paranoia is taking over. I always blow things out of proportion and worry about ridiculous scenarios. I slapped myself again. Ouch! That one hurt a little bit.

Before I ended up beating the crap out of myself, I knew it was time for a distraction. So, on my way home I stopped by my neighbor's house. Stan was a retired detective who worked in major crimes. I wanted to find out if he knew of any rumors about crime bosses living quietly in St. Charles County. Stan and I were friendly but not close. This may not seem like the kind of distraction I needed, but it depended on the answer Stan gave me. I laid out the story and asked for his thoughts.

“The police department does a good job keeping track of criminals.” He typed on his computer keyboard and turned the screen toward me. “There are websites that keep track of registered offenders like pedophiles, but retired mafia bosses don’t normally volunteer their locations to the police.”

“Well, of course. I get that, but I’m sure you hear things on the intel from your CI’s.”

“I do, but it’s not always reliable. Can you be more specific about your concern?”

“Have you heard of a guy named Rocco who lives off of Weiss Road?”

Stan nodded. “Yes, he’s a cranky old guy. Barks more than he bites.”

“He gives off a mysterious vibe.” I crossed my arms. “Seems like he might have ties to the underworld.”

“He does in a way.” Stan smiled. “Rocco’s a mystery writer. He has written a number of novels about mafia characters.” 

“Well, that’s a relief. I guess his stories have affected his personality traits.”

“No question Rocco is rough around the edges.” Stan explained. “He keeps to himself, very unsocial. He’s a weird guy, but aren’t all writers weird? Or is it because he writes about the underworld?”

I felt the tension fall away. “Thanks Stan, you have been really helpful.” As I turned to leave, I said, “What’s his last name? In case I want to check out some of his books.”

“He goes by the pen name, Tony Gillette.”

I walked over to my house, relieved to learn about Rocco, the writer. After putting the groceries away, I decided I would go to the library to see if they had any copies of Tony Gillette’s novels. The guy still interested me. A retired crime boss living in the area is fascinating, but a secretive mystery novelist is cool as well.

The librarian looked up his name and found that he has written eight novels. All murder mysteries, but they only had three available to check out. I took all three. The titles included, Born into Crime, The House of Evil and Danger is My Middle Name. My wife was out of town visiting her parents for the weekend. So, I spent the rest of the day and well into the night reading. It turns out Rocco was a good writer with a talent for suspense mysteries. His novels were very detailed, and I surmised he was great at research. Of course, that’s a big part of writing.

After reading until 2 a.m., I slept late into the morning. Since my wife was on a mini vacation, so was I. After showering, I drove to Panera’s for breakfast. Simple, easy and ready in minutes. I sat at a small table thinking about nothing at all, just enjoying my coffee and spinach bacon souffle when a middle-aged lady walked by. She picked a table in the same section as mine. I didn’t know her, but something was familiar. I’d probably seen her around town. We are creatures of habit, so a familiar stranger is not uncommon in Cottleville. She only sat for a few seconds when she got up and walked over to my table. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you gave off a strong vibe when I passed by.” She paused for a second. “My name is Claudia.”

“I’m Ben. What do you mean vibe?”

“You have an active aura that surrounds you.” She grimaced. ”Sorry, I don’t usually approach a stranger, but I’m getting a strong feeling that you may be in danger.”

“That’s disturbing. Who are you and what makes you think I want your opinion?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you, but it would be wrong of me to not say something.” Without asking she sat down at my table. “I have worked for many police departments on some of their toughest crimes. I’m a reputable psychic.”

“Those two words don’t even go together.”

“Okay, you’re a skeptic. I get it, but all I’m saying is, be careful.” Claudia walked back to her table. 

I left feeling uncomfortable, which reinforced my paranoia about all the suspicions I had toward Rocco and now Claudia. There was no solid evidence that either of them would do me any harm, but that didn’t lessen my anxiety. I was prone to believing the worst would always happen. I violently shook my head to clear all the negative thoughts from my brain, which helped to reset my thinking. But those thoughts eventually return, sometimes with more persistence. There’s a lot of work involved to ensure my sanity. Believe it or not, these methods help. Don’t we all have our own ways to dispense with bad juju that comes our way? 

Being Grandpa

Being a grandpa is a privilege. It means you’ve made it through life’s struggles and adventures, but survived. You may have a few scars inside and out, but they are now like a badge to represent your achievements.

     A grandpa is not always politically correct, actually it’s rare when he is on point with his advice. No one will question him about that, except grandma, whom he usually ignores.

     Life was different when grandpa was young, people were more direct. They weren’t mean, but they didn’t fluff up their comments to hide the meaning because someone might be offended. They said what they believed and you could take it or leave it. People are different now. They seem to be guarded, always searching for words that offend them. Grandpas don’t fit in very well, because they speak their mind and some people get offended. It isn’t intended to offend, but it’s your choice to be offended. 

     Maybe that’s the way of life. The older you get the less you are valued. Sure grandpa does things the old way, but the new way is not always the best. I think it would help if more young people would listen to their grandpa without writing him off just because he’s old. We all have something of value to say, old and young. Listening isn’t a bad way of connecting with each other. No body is right all the time. Grandpas should listen too.

     What would happen if we all listened to someone with a different opinion?  I mean really listen to understand. We may still disagree, but we might understand better. What would be better than a world of understanding people? “Just Saying . . .”