Monday, Monday

 So really nice weather but also some rain. Saw a local production of the GOD OF CARNAGE which I saw on Broadway a million years ago with James Gandolfini and Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis and sadly I forget the other actress. Also  saw THE SAMURAI AND THE PRISONER, which was too long for me. 

Watching EAST OF EDEN, LANTERNS, SLOW HORSES and KNIFE EDGE: CHASING A MICHELIN STAR.

Reading SWITZI by Emma Kline 

What about you?  

 

FFB VANISHED, Mary Mcgarry Morris

 I read many books by this writer. And then I lost sight of her. This one won the National Book Award in the late eighties. Her books are dark and border on thrillers.

This description is from Amazon. I would like to remember books I read forty years ago but I only remember liking it. 

Aubrey Wallace is the kind of man no one notices. Dotty Johnson is the kind of woman no one can ignore. One afternoon, they both disappear from the small Vermont town where they live. The next day, two hundred miles away, a toddler is kidnapped from her Massachusetts home.
 
For the next five years, Aubrey, Dotty, and the kidnapped child—united by a mix of strange love, desperate need, and the crime that brought them together—are trapped in a nomadic existence governed by their constant fear of discovery. Canny, the little girl, becomes Aubrey's entire existence. But Dotty wants out. She is tired of being saddled with this fearful man, and when she meets a brutal ex-convict, the wheels of Canny's return to her natural parents are wrenched fatally into motion.
 

Short Story Wednesday Epitaph for a Hummer

 Sorry to use one of my own. I couldn't find one I liked today. This is from a long time ago, but some things never change. Just sub Tesla for Hummer, Trump for Bush and $5 for $4. 

Epitaph for a Hummer

By Patricia Abbott

Jerry, my boyfriend, he loves to steal cars. Loves to see how quick he can make an engine roar to life using the tangle of wires, switches and pins he carries around on an old dog collar. Does most cars in ninety seconds flat, his favorite being those big-assed Hummers, a model I don’t particularly care for. Me, I’m short. Hoisting onto that seat’s a bitch.

Finding a Hummer in our neighborhood is rare and nearly impossible for Jerry to pass up. Says he only feels alive when he’s behind the wheel of a luxury car and especially one with some muscle. He never parades it at the car show behind the crank factory, never strips it for parts, never crashes it for kicks. He just keeps it for an hour or two then parks it in a safe place. He’s got a code, my Jerry does.

Jerry likes me to come along for the ride, says it’s more fun when someone sits shotgun. So most Friday nights, we find a god-damned (his words) Hummer and ride around till it’s time to go home. He likes to hit the toney neighborhoods over in Shelterville first, then head out to the country. You never lived till you did a hundred in a Hummer on a deserted blacktop.

But with gas prices rising, our plans had to change. Cost $85 last time we gassed one. Sometimes we’d hop in and find the gauge on full, but less and less since Bush got bogged down with the war and neglected his domestic duties. Last Hummer we took was only running on the recollection of fuel. It’s not worth the trouble if the owners won’t leave us a little gas. And Jerry says, he’ll be doing the death polka before he puts his dime into someone else’s Hummer.

I tried to talk Jerry into stealing an economy car. First time I said it, he told me it wasn’t hardly worth risking jail for a ride in a Cobalt or a Civic: there was no joy for him in taking such a vehicle. But when prices hit $4.00 a gallon, he gave in and we 211’d a Yaris—a car we’d never even heard of, Jerry shaking his head as the car sputtered to life like a sick pup in a litter. You could tell it was a family car right off from the infant seat in back.

“Bad luck,” he hissed as we coasted down the street. “Bad luck to mess with babies.”

It was too dark to see good, but no baby was sleeping in that seat. Not unless his parents had him stuck headfirst in that old brown bag, like a candle at an Italian restaurant.

“What is back there, Babe,” Jerry asked, pulling out onto the highway and sneaking a look in the mirror. It was clear somethin’ was pudging out that seat. I reached back and felt around.

“Feels like money,” I told him. “Money in some kinda sacks.” I could smell burlap and wasn’t sure it hadn’t carried manure in its heyday.

“Money?” Jerry repeated, his voice full of wonder. The Hummers we normally grabbed didn’t even carry an old umbrella or a box of Kleenex. Those Hummer people like to keep ‘em clean. I dug inside and pulled out a bundle while Jerry switched on the overhead. Fifties, twenties, and a goodly amount of ‘em in every rubber-banded stack. I won’t even tell you what Jerry did with that first lot.

We ditched that Yaris pretty quick. The owners wasn’t gonna forget about it for long, but they probably wouldn’t call the cops either. Jerry and I had ‘em between a rock and another rock. We took the bags to Jerry’s garage and fanned ‘em out. More dead presidents than we could rightly count. You lose your place after a while with stacks that big.

“What the hell,” Jerry said. “I sure never thought an economy car would bring me good luck.

“What I tell you,” I reminded him.

Next day, we went to a showroom over in Shelterville and got ourselves a sweet deal ‘cause nobody’s buying Hummers nowadays. Dead black, it was.

“Might be the last one off the line,” the dealer said. Jerry practically burst with pride.

There’s enough left over to keep us in gas if those Sawdy bandits don’t raise the price again when Bush isn’t looking. Which he never is.

George Kelley 

Jerry House 

TracyK 

Monday, Monday

 

I saw the French movie, the Marching Band, which was terrific if it comes your way.  We are lucky to have the Detroit Institute of Arts showing foreign movies most weekends because we have no art houses anymore. 

Reading KIN and enjoying it. Today I am going to a play at Theater Nova, called Maestro. They always show new or unknown plays, which sometimes works out and sometimes doesn't. 

TV-I am trying to understand DARK MATTER. Also started PROFESSOR T on PBS, YOUTH on HBO and LANTERNS.

Lovely weather. How about your life?  

Short Story Wednesday; "Some Things You Never Forget" Gar Anthony Haywood from Damn Near Dead 2

 

I think it is much harder to discuss a crime short story than a literary one. So much in a short mystery hangs on the ending and you can spoil it by discussing it. In a lit short story, it's not often about the ending per se but more about character. 

In Haywood's nicely written story, a man is taking his wife out for their anniversary. They are in a memory care facility. It seems they had an unusual early marriage where they pulled off small robberies and the like without getting caught. He brings a knife to make the day more exciting (they don't allow guns) and hoping this will awaken memories of the past. 

That's about all I can say without ruining the story. 

Damn Near Dead 2 was edited by Bill Crider. There are many good stories in this collection.  

George Kelley 

Monday, Monday

 Boy, have we had a lot of rain. Mostly the misty sort but heavy at times. I went to a chamber music concert last night: a pianist, a cellist and a singer. They did Brahms Cello and Piano Concerto Number One and some modern pieces. The President of the Society said the Trump Administration had cut 70% of funding to the NEA. What a travesty.

Heard a lecture about the diplomacy that allowed the US to win the Revolutionary War. 

Watching SLOW HORSES, LANTERNS, TED LASSO, and HIGH POTENTIAL. Also the series SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE from 1972.  

Reading KIN by Tayari Jones and A GUARDIAN AND A THIEF, Maga Majumdar (That might not be spelled correctly)

Still going to PT to try and walk better.  

The quilt is one of my friend Rita's. She is making me a Christmas quilt.  

What are you doing?