Badgers, Gordon Lightfoot, and zip codes.

[KB.]

"Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame, but I know, it’s my own damn fault."

~Jimmy Buffett





I had a customer last week, he was from Albuquerque, I told him I had been there but it was a long time ago. He bought a few things and as I entered in his address a woman’s name popped up. He told me that was his girlfriend. I asked if that was the same place we needed to deliver his television. He said it was, and that they were going to get married next month. I congratulated him and his reply was to simply say, "I never thought I would do it again, but this woman amazes me, gave me another chance. I messed the first one up." I told him it happens to the best of us. "I blamed the woman for a long time." I looked him in the eye and said, "It is usually our fault." He just nodded and we finished up.



It usually is.



How are you? I’m real ****ing tired, which considering I have had the last two and a half days off, I shouldn’t be. Wore out totally. I paid the rent today, seven more months of that until I can even think about another place. I keep looking at places there which I shouldn’t because I see all of these nice apartments and houses right in my price range. They of course always have hardwood floors and exposed brick. I even saw one that had bookcases built in to the walls. I loved it. It is like slow torture.



No idea what I am going to do.



Did you get your early Mother’s day gift yet? You see I do pay attention. You know that though and have never accused me of otherwise. I haven’t heard from your sister but she told me she would let me know when you got it. Had to send it early because you mentioned getting on yourself and I think that is the kind of thing someone else should get for you. I’m sure I’ll send something else on the proper date.



Mother’s Day; what a damn bunch of messed up memories I have for that day. Go back eight years and I was in jail calling my mom, go back seven and I was getting the news that my Grandfather on my dad’s side of the family, the man I called my Grandfather anyway, had died. I just had to sit there and watch a woman I loved fall neck deep into an un-medicated despair. Nothing I could do. Go back to last year and I was on my way "home" from there preparing to move for "good" in June. Only to find my world literally upside down, sideways, and once again there was nothing I could do. It was my fault though. You know the story.



That’s the thing though. I know this one will be just fine. I can send an early gift and another later on and know it is appreciated. Being a state away, with the Mississippi river between, there ain’t much that can go wrong.



I have never in my life thought this much about relocation. Gypsies and vagabonds never do. They just pack their **** and move out. Ramble on. I suppose that is why I feel so wore out. I’m tired of saying I’m done and not being done. The last time I mailed a letter, I had to use four different envelopes. It took me that many attempts to remember where I lived. Too many zip codes in my head. Too many songs.



It is nice here. I have some amazing friends but no matter how hard I try I never feel as welcomed as I did there. In that little corner bar. There have been moments that lasted weeks and sometimes months. Come and gone. My fault. No more Tuesday night cooking. I haven’t held a baby since sometime around Christmas. No more Monday lunches at another bar. I sneak in on a Wednesday sometimes but well it ain’t Monday. That I am sure is my fault too. It usually is after all. You know that old Gordon Lightfoot song; "If you could read my mind?" it fits. Johnny Cash did a good version of that. It’ll be on the CD along with those other songs we talked about.



I’m sure most folks will think it is all about you but some know better. I feel like some old badger that got shot in the ass with a tranquiller gun and drug off to a zoo. Sure, I have plenty of food, a place to lay my beat up head down at night, and people stop by to visit me. But. There ain’t any other old badgers around to trade stories with. There ain’t any bears around to pick fights with and all an old badger wants to do is pick a fight with a young bear that he knows he can’t win. That is all I want to do too. Pick a fight I can’t win in a place where I want to be forever. It ain’t the zoo; take me back to the woods.



Badgers, Gordon Lightfoot, and zip codes, and to think it has been six years since I smoked a joint. Hunter S. Thompson would be proud.



"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

~Mr. Thompson



So, I wonder how it will be if I manage to sneak under the fence and get back. I’m figuring there will be a gaggle of bears waiting on me, figuratively speaking. I can mange one or two but they will get smart and work together; have me for supper. **** em. I won’t taste good. I refuse. Every time I hear those words, "He might be moving back." I can feel them gnawing on my bones. They might get me but every last one of them will go home with a limp.



I wonder how it will be. I guess I’ll have to make a few more trips up I-55 in the coming months and see what I can expect. I’ve been doing that since last June though and I still don’t know. Just remember what I said, all I need is those non-judging eyes to look in my direction when I’m talking. That is all I ever needed. Amazing how something so simple took so long to find. Then I left. Forget everything else. I’m not talking about anything other than just that. You let me talk and never judged, never interrupted, just listened. Just.



No time for what "ifs" just enough time to plan and leave the right way. I’ve never had a regret, even leaving there the first time worked out pretty amazing, and heading back won’t be where I start with those regrets. I miss my late Saturday nights swapping stories with my Muse. The good Lord willing I can make it a regular thing again early next year.

Miss you, my bar, my neighborhood, and the rest of the old badgers.

Kevin





**That is about as close to a declarative statement I am willing to make at the moment. I have no idea what the next nine to ten months holds for me, what might change, or what might not change. All I know is I have lived my entire adult life, the last 16 or 17 years, coming and going whether in mind or actual geography.



As much as I love and care about the people here, my family, my friends, old and new, my old loves, the prospect of new ones, and just the place in general; it can’t compare. I’ve had thirty one years to get to know me and get to know who I am. Time is running short. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones. I won’t let it run out in this place.



Do what you need to do, go where you need to go, love the people you need to love. Leave a place better than when you got there and when you get tired pick one of those places to go back to and retire.





KB



"There is only one me and I’m stuck with him."

~Kurt Vonnegut Jr.