Category Archives: Humor

Soccer Puppy

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After posting a heavy piece on the President’s speech on Syria, 15-week-old Barclay took me aside and suggested I lighten up. “Dad, you have to stop being so serious. Besides, Dad,” he said, “I like President Obama. I thought you did, too. You need to chill out. You need to watch Mom’s video from last night and show it to the world. You humans are just too mean. All this Syria stuff is just a big soccer game.”

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll put your video up on the blog to bring some laughter and lighten up the superior species. Good dog!”

Quaker Grit

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Gravel and motorcycles don’t mix.
Even though the 73 year old Dean
(Emeritus) was only going 5 mph
on the last gravel mile to his
daughter’s lake house, when he looked
at the passing motorboat,
the big quiet bike slowly slid sideways
and down on his left leg.

A passing lake visitor helped lift
the bike off his bruised, he thought,
limb, and he limped the half-mile
to his daughter’s place carrying
his helmet–the same red as his bike.
After resting, she drove him back
to the unharmed motorcycle,
which he rode the 30 miles home.

He drove his pick-up truck to the
Walk-in Clinic to check the leg
that kept hurting as he walked.
After the X-Rays showed two
breaks, waiting for surgery,
his daughter said, “I’ll bet you
are smiling because your bike
wasn’t even scratched!”

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, September 10, 2013

The GPS

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Lost in Chicago

Parking now is privatized,
on-street prices very high,
all hotels have also raised
valet costs in the same way:
everybody wants to make
as much money as they can
before bankruptcy will take
everybody down just like
Detroit.

Mile Magnificent is still
mostly white except for men
parking cars or begging on
sidewalk sides. Inside, women
wear their diamonds on pale hands–
colored hands wear vinyl, fill
buckets, pails, trash bags, and cans:
garbage left behind by all
the rich.

Foreigners drive taxis, make
more here than at home. Send back
salaries and tips to help
families survive. I stop,
lost on lower Wacker Drive,
lower Michigan, no help
here from GPS, “Now drive
east 500 feet and stop.”
(I’d be in the lake…)

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, September 9, 2013

P.S. On Tuesday, October 1 Steve will bring his poetry to Tuesday Dialogues at Shepherd of the Hill Church in Chaska. Free and open to the public.

Grandpa and the Grand-kids

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Verse – Ten and Twelve

The high-caffeine pop was a mistake…
but when the older asked for it,
the younger had to have it, too.
The ping-pong chatter natter
never stopped. Good-natured,
but louder and shriller (I turned down,
then took out my hearing aids…)
Day 5 of our week caring for
the grand-kids. Their parents
love going to Burning Man–
what’s temporary noise
in the service of Art?

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, September 2, 2013

Puppy salutes Martin Luther King’s Dream

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Barclay and the memory of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Barclay and the memory of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Fourteen-week old Barclay was reading the morning paper where he read for the first time about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his “I have a Dream speech” 50 years ago this Wednesday. “Woof!” said Barclay. Then his eyes became sad as he read the other stories in the paper and told his Dad to put on the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) shirt Barclay’s Mom found at a garage sale. The America Barclay wants is one that prevents cruelty to animals, including humans.

“Dad,” he said, “We have to go to Washington this Wednesday! We have to keep the dream alive.”

“We can’t go to Washington,” said Dad. “We’re not ready to go to Washington. Not until you learn to go potty outside. Maybe next year, when you’ve learned that going outside is your contribution to the prevention of cruelty to humans and the American way of life, we can go to Washington and visit Congress to train them too.”

Barclay looked at Dad and said Dad wasn’t worthy to wear that t-shirt. Dad goes inside all the time. “It’s prejudice, pure and simple and I won’t have any part in it! Dad hates dogs!”

“Sit,” said Dad.

“Just another form of cruelty and intimidation,” said Barclay. “Martin would never have treated me like that.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dad. “Martin was able to accomplish what he did in the Civil Rights Movement and the Peace Movement because he put himself under the strict discipline of non-violent resistance. Martin Luther King, Jr. understood discipline and self-discipline. I want you to learn the same thing. Every time you go in the house, it’s an act of violent resistance. It’s an act of terror. Do you understand? Sit!”

Barclay sat, knowing that the treat was in Dad’s hand. He took the treat, then squatted right in front of Dad, and said, “Maybe some day I’ll be self-disciplined like Dr. King. Right now I’m just a puppy in training. … So next year we can go Washington, D.C. and train everyone in Congress and the White House not to make a mess in their own houses?”

Verse – Suspicions

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Is she? Is he? Are they?
Have they? Will they?

They look, they speak,
they touch, she smiles,
he stares, but do they…

He also stares at men–
Could he be…

She has a woman friend–
Might she be…

Bi? Poly? Omni?
Asexual? Surely not…

Celibate? Faithful?
Don’t make me laugh.

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, August 7, 2013

A little eccentric – you think?

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The Sluice Box, Idaho City, ID

For sale in Idaho City

For sale in Idaho City


This piece of real estate can be yours. The Sluice Box sits at the end of the main street in Idaho City, Idaho waiting for a new owner.

According to the woman who strolled up the street while Kay was taking photographs, it belonged to a fella who was “a little eccentric” whose surviving relatives didn’t want to continue “the business” so it has sat vacant for a couple of years waiting for a new owner. She said it could be ours for $350,000 – and not just the property, but ALL the valuables inside. It’s been vandalized several times, she said, but with a little attention, if the right person came along and “restored” the place, it could become a thriving operation. People would come from miles around.

Wouldn’t you like to meet the man who owned and operated The Sluice Box? Elsewhere on Views from the Edge we’ve noted famous people who were a little eccentric – people like Bishop James Pike – and suggested the world would be a better place if we were all a bit more eccentric. Whoever the man was who (sort of) maintained this old 1800s structure while collecting everyone else’s junk, he wasn’t into a throw-away culture.

A web search uncovered the current asking price: $249,900. Click HERE for the real estate listing. Turns out the house next door comes with it.

The Hitch-hiker and the Cop

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Three college classmates who didn’t have two nickels to rub together decided to hitch-hike to B.T. Biggart’s home in Reynoldsburg, OH for the Thanksgiving holiday.

One of the rides was like the one in Steve Shoemaker’s story “Hitch-hiking” posted just minutes ago here on Views from the Edge. The three of us sat in the back seat of the driver’s big 1960 Ford 500 while he and his buddy passed the bottle between them, belted out country music, and swapped stories about women that are un-publishable. Eventually, by the grace of God, they dropped us off on the interstate in downtown Cincinnati.

Soon after we had stuck out our thumbs on the Interstate about 3:00 a.m., a Cincinnati squad car pulled over.

The officer asked for identification.

I had no wallet. My wallet was back at the college.

The officer declared that he could take me in for vagrancy.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Gordon Stewart, Sir,” I answered with my heart pumping faster and my knees about to buckle.

“Where you from, Gordon?”

“Broomall, Pennsylvania, Sir.”

“What’s your father do?”

“He’s a minister.”

“What church?”

“Marple Presbyterian Church in Broomall where I grew up.”

“What kind of church?”

“Presbyterian.”

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Gordon Stewart.”

“Did your father serve in World War II?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did he serve?”

“Saipan, Guam, and Tinian in the South Pacific.”

(PAUSE)

“What branch of the service was your father in on Guam?”

“Army Air Force, Sir. He was a chaplain.”

“What’s your father’s first name?”

“Kenneth – Kenneth Campbell Stewart.”

“O my!!! After all these years! Red Stewart! Chappy Stewart! Well, I’ll be darned!

“You can go son. Just get a ride out of here as soon as you can. God bless you.”

…

So the cop who could have taken me in for vagrancy celebrated a vicarious reunion with his old Chaplain while we hitch-hiked to B.T Biggart’s for Thanksgiving – thankful for a serendipitous rescue from the boys in the Ford 500 and from the holding cell for vagrants.

Thanks, Dad! And thanks, Officer Anonymous! I never got his name. Grace abounds…even when you have no money and no identification.

Hitch-hiking

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The Hitch-hi8ker

The Hitch-hiker

A friend
said that when in college
in the 1940’s,
he once hitched a ride
in the car of a guy
who drove to an airport
and flew him in his plane
all the way to his school.
…
But another driver
who stopped at his thumb
was drunk and about rolled
the car at the first bend
in the road.
…
He mused: Only some
Samaritans are good…

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, July 24, 2013

The Fight in the 7th Grade

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Two boys I did not know
were to meet after school
in a park just two blocks
away. We all went to see…
…
The girl they were fighting for,
or over, was surrounded
by other girls from her class.
…
The first boyfriend stood
in an open space
looking down the street.
…
Boy number two
was pushed by friends
into the ring
made by classmates.
…
There were thuds,
then a headlock,
a bloody nose, and
tears from the boy
left on the ground.
…
His girl ran past
the victor and fell
to hug and wipe away
the blood, dirt, and tears
of the boy she had
just learned she loved.

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, July 20, 2013