Specifically, I purchased ‘Tampax Pearl’… “In the Blue & Green Box.”
Because THAT Was What SHE Required.
“Good luck. See ya when you get back. Be safe.”
Memphis, circa 2013
This was to be my quest, my only mission quest: to find those and only those specific tampons:
My Search for the…
Holy Grail of Feminine Hygiene Products!
(In the blue and green box? Are you fucking kidding me? I discovered Myriad tampons in blue & green boxes…)
In fact, an entire isle was dedicated to nothingbut Tampons of various brands, all shapes and sizes and quantities and qualities.
Damn Near ALL of which were in blue and green boxes!
Welcome to The Tampon Jungle
Enjoy Your Stay
Fortunately, before embarking upon my Quest, I’d had the presence of mind, using my semi-smart phone, to capture an image of the now empty and defunct ‘pearls’ box.
Yep, I had fetched along a visual aid to guide me in my pursuit of the ‘keeping the little woman happy’ self-preservation project.
I’m real smart in this way.
I attribute this trait to my erstwhile Navy SEAL training:
(I am bleeding out of every orifice in my body–This probably portends some un-happy times ahead)
MUST MUST MUST MUST!
This Song is the ENTIRE Point of the POST!
(And Sorry if I Buried The Lead)
“The Lamp is Broken on the Mantle”
Ed. Note to All You Nattering Nabobs of Nay-Sayers down there in the ‘Commentary Section’: I say this: ‘This is “My Side” of the Story!’ Read Between the Lines if You Must.
(Or feel compelled.)
*****
Lance, No Longer Down an’ Out In
Memphis, Tennessee:
Yeah Lyle, I been to Memphis too.
Street Vid Cred: kndfbl
Joni talking about Memphis
Joni on Beale Street
“Bourbon Laughter & Shoppin’ Malls…”
Joni is So Very Beautiful
And So Very PERFECT
IN EVERY WAY
******
“Walkin’ in Memphis”
Credit: Marc Cohn
*****
And SCREW YOU WORDPRESS For Not Allowing Me to Delete this below BROKEN Up-Load!!!
Stuck on STUPID.
******
She just sat there on the front porch, smoking Camel Blues, sipping diet Dr. Pepper, and watching as I scurried back and forth, worker ant-like, schlepping boxes and boxes and boxes and sundry other shit to my Ford. Never said a word. Never shed a tear. I was leaving her! What the fuck? No tears? No desperation? No tears? No tears? No tears? No nada? English! English! English! (You live with Meskins, expect beans on the menu, ever’ once in a while.) English!
Stiff upper lip and all that jazz… After I had packed the Ford to the point of tightness unimagined (you could have poured a bottle of Jim Beam into it and not one drop would escape), I walked to the front porch and announced,
“Well, I guess that’s it then.” “You’re leaving now?” “Yeah, that’s the plan,” I said. She stood up, looked me in the eye. I threw my arms around her and hugged her deep. Now we were both crying. I managed to blurt out something profound…
“I’m so sorry Helen.” “Take good care of you,” she said, blinking back the tears. I slow-walked to the Ford, looking back through MY tears only once. Got in, cranked her up and drove away. The part where the cowboy rides away… Took me a block an’ a half to stop crying. Then I was so over it.
And her.
Four blocks later I realized I could not see out of my side-view rear-view mirror. My dismantled computer chair in the passenger seat was blocking my vision. This would never do. I pulled into a vacant parking lot and jettisoned said computer chair. Just left it there in the dust.
With my life. Merry Early Fucking Christmas to someone. Some homeless one in Memphis. And drove on, westward.
Nine minutes later at sixty-five miles per hour, I was crossing the Big Muddy and entering Arkansas.
I had achieved escape velocity. I turned on the radio. Loud and proud. CDB was screaming something about Trudy and telephones. And calling her.
And jail. I cranked it up and sang along. Very happy and oh so fucking proud of me. My new life had just begun. Just another tequila sunrise. As I drove west with the sun over my shoulder. So many thoughts were flying around in my head, gnat like… buzzing.
I was almost giddy. I was staring down six hours of road trip.
No big deal, but it had been almost ten years since I had taken to the road or air or sea, and I was just a mite apprehensive. “You can do this Lance,” I whispered to me over the radio, now playing Van Morrison. “Hear That Robin Sing.’ Hours and hours and hours into Arkansas (when did Arkansas get so fucking BIG?)
I found a trucker’s rest stop and so I stopped. And rested. And pee’d. Had to. Walked about Had to. Stretched my legs. Had to.
“Where is Texas?” Halfway through Arkansas…. And halfway from what I had called ‘home’ for ten years. “What am I doing?” “Going West, Young Man, Goin’ West.” “Oh yeah, I almost had forgotten.”
By and by I hit the “border” (On the border)
Wanted to stop and take a selfie in front of the sign what read, “Welcome To Texas, Drive Friendly.” But it was Interstate and not safe to do so, so I just kept on driving. And singing at me!
“Texas! Oh Texas!” “You are finally home, Cowboy!” Now what? Keep driving, I suppose. I had pre-arranged a ‘garage’ to store my shit.
A ‘rent-a-space’ shed in Commerce. Got a phone call from the proprietor….
“Lance, you still coming?”
“Yeah, fast as I can, but I will not arrive in time for your departure. Can you HBO? Help a brother out? I will arrive Commerce about 1800 hours…. Leave the key in the lock box or something; I want to off-load my shit before I go to the hotel.” “Sure, got a CC number for me?” “Yeah, no worries.” That sorted, I drove on. Presently I arrived Sulphur Springs. And promptly got lost. Could not find the road to Commerce.
Well, shit!
It had been some years and beers and tears since I had had to make this trek.
Finally found the proper road and guess what? It was ‘under construction’ as they do. Took me some few little minutes to navigate through that, but…. Finally… on the road again.
Commerce in my sights now. Sped into town, saw Whitley Hall, High Rise and shouted out loud: HOME!
“Thank fucking God!’ (And this was a push for me, for as you know, I am an atheist) Found the ‘rent-a-shed’ and off-loaded my shit. Went to the Adult Beverage Store. Then found the Magnuson, formally known as “The Holiday Inn Express,” checked in, and got very, very, very drunk.
Chapter Two Coming… Whew! Chapter One is Done! Writing is hard! As is my wont, I drop in music. Music defines me, and yes, my life has a soundtrack. I suppose this don’t make me nothing special. Just yet one more schmuck. Trying to get by. And Waiting for Godot (Vain reference from my college / university daze.)
Beautiful Loser Read it on the wall. Blue moon with heartache. Nick of time “Scared you’ll run outta time.” Love has no pride This old cowboy—MTB
So many emotions were colliding around in my head, not unlike that stupid arcade game: asteroids….
As most of Y’all Regular and some of Y’all ‘Irregular’ readers know,
I am a Proud U.S. Navy Veteran.
Only served five years ‘active’ duty, but I crammed about fifteen years worth of Navy Experiences into those Five Years.
***
Awarded during ‘Boot Camp’ THE NAVY CLUB OF THE UNITED STATES MILITARY EXCELLENCE AWARD: “Presented to the graduating recruit who best exemplifies the qualities of enthusiasm, devotion to duty, military appearance and behavior, self-discipline and teamwork.” Follow Orange Link if you’d like to read more about THAT. Hahahaha
Honor Grad From Gunner’s Mate ‘A’ School at Great Lakes Naval Training Command
Two Runs at BUD/s (SEAL Training), Coronado, CA. And, No. I didn’t make it, but at least I showed up. Which is much more than I can say for 99.9 percent of my fellow sailors.
Six Month ‘’Round-The-World” Deployment Onboard The USS Callaghan DDG 994 in’87
Six Month ‘WESTPac Deployment Onboard The USS Frederick LST 1184 in ‘89
Certified Range Master & Small Arms Expert
Ships Armorer & Small Arms Instructor for Entire Ship’s Crew During both Deployments (Yes, save only one Officer, I had Complete Control Over ALL The Ship’s Small Arms) Pistols up to the .50 Cals, and everything in between to include even hand grenades. And of course All of the Ammunition to go with.
Needless to say, Nobody fucked with me, especially since I had ‘Rocked-Out’ of SEAL Training immediately prior to Both Deployments and was usually in a foul mood, not really relishing hanging out with ‘Black-Shoe ‘Haze-Gray & Underway’ Sailors—At least not at first. Eventually I made a small—very small—Circle of Loyal Friends.
Managed to Fall-in-Love at every Port I visited: “A Woman in Every Port” as the Saying goes, or more accurately in my hard-case, “Any Port in a Storm.”
To Be Mercifully Brief: Do NOT Fuck With Me Bare Foot & Pregnab\
Pregnant AZs it should be
You WILL ‘Experience’ A BAD Day
A VERY, VERY Bad Day
Street Cred: Daniel Powter
***
Okay, Now that we have my Résumé all sorted, I will get to the ‘Point’ of this Exercise.
Finding myself between jobs in Memphis and under no small amount of pressure to find one from my British, actually ‘English’, “There is A DIFFERENCE” Girlfriend informed me. “Get another Job, You Tool!”
‘Tool’ is NOT a Term of Endearment.
If You have ever had an English GF, or BF I suppose, You’d Know This.
As I was saying, I needed a job. But what for me to do in Memphis? I hated Memphis. I had already worked a short stint for UPS. Short stint for FedEx. Longer stint for NIKE—Hated them all.
So one day, Helen asked me,
“What ARE you Qualified to DO Lance?”
“I can shoot straight,” I said.
“Why not then become a Security Guard?”
I thought about it for a moment, and then said, “You know, You’re right. That is at least something I might even enjoy and I’ll get to pack a gun.”
I ended up working for two different Security Companies, each Gig lasting about a year.
The first was G4S, A HUGE International Security Firm
With All The Corporate Bullshit That Comes With THAT.
I was assigned to Crosstown Concourse:
But they stuck me into a little ‘Secure Room’ in charge of monitoring all the CC Cameras, about 235 of ‘em, and I did not get to carry a gun. The Boredom Bored Me To Tears and Lots of After-Hours Beers.
“No Need for You To Pack A Gun,” They said.
*****
Quit G4S and went to work for a ‘Mom & Pop’
Security Shoppe
Called
‘Phelps Security.’
Memphis’ Old Money
Apparently They Had Been Around Since Moses Was A Pup
Worked the Graveyard Shift at Hotel Indigo, Downtown Memphis.
It was required that I prove that I could, indeed, fire a handgun.
I was sent to ‘Bullseye’to ‘Qualify’
—A proprietorship which specialized in training and qualifying men and women to be armed security guards.
After a week of ‘Classroom Horse-Shit’ came time to ‘Officially Qualify’ on the pistol range.
But I actually did learn one useful thing in that class:
The Instructor, a grizzled old retired military vet and an ex-cop, told us:
“If you ever shoot someone, shout as loud as you can, THREE times,”
“I thought the Mother-Fu*ker was gonna Kill ME!”
****
I had told no one of my Navy ‘Qualifications.’ In fact I rarely spoke at all.
The day we were taken to the range was very cold and even though the Range was indoors, it was still damn cold, wreaking havoc with the arthritis I had been developing over the past year or so.
The Man at the counter asked me what kind of gun did I want.
I said, “A loaded one.”
He was NOT Amused.
He handed me A Glock Nine, some hearing protection, some eye protection, then said,
“You’ll be issued ammo when you get to the range,”
He pointed at a door.
“Right through there Son. NEXT!”
“SON? SON?!”
Hell! I was Pushin’ Sixty.
Kinda pissed me off, but I let it go.
I went through the door and joined my other ‘Fellow Classmates’
“Bit of a motley crew, but typical for Memphis,” I mused as we waited for the Range Master to Show.
Presently he arrived with his assistant who was pushing a Kroger’s Shopping cart containing lots of boxes. I assumed and rightly so this was our ammo.
Range Master gathered us around (I think there were ten of us) and proceeded to give us his ‘Safety Briefing’
The main thing I took away from his ‘Briefing’–which greatly amused me, was when he said,
“Keep your weapon pointed down range at-all-times. If you turn around, even accidentally, not thinking, and point it even inadvertently, at me or anybody else, I will shoot you.”
***
That sorted, we took our individual places in our assigned ‘Shooting Booths.’
He and his assistant handed out the ammo.
We were issued fifty rounds each.
Then we were instructed to load our magazines—‘clips’—I prefer calling them ‘Clips’. I am ‘old-school’ that way. ‘Magazines’ go into rifles, ‘Clips’ go into pistols.
I was having a lot of difficulty loading mine because of the aforementioned cold and my arthritis.
Looks Easy, Don’t it? Wasn’t for me that day.
This did not go un-noticed by the Range Master. He walked over and assisted loading my clips—ten rounds each—we had two clips.
As he was walking away I could feel his eyes on me, probably thinking, “This guy is worthless. Probably never even seen a gun in his life.”
The paper targets were already in place. First rounds: ten, were to be shot at about ten yards or so and then targets progressively moved back to about fifty yards.
We were instructed on his command to fire one round. Just to make sure we all knew which way to point the pistol and to also make sure we understood where the trigger was to be found.
We all got into our stances and Range Master gave his command, Mil Style,
“Firing one round! Ready Right! Ready Left! All Ready on the Firing Line! Fire!”
He said these commands exactly as I had been taught when I was going through MY Range Master Training and I wondered if this guy was a Vet like me.
Well I squeezed off my round.
Range Master went to all the students to make certain all had gone well.
Satisfied, he stepped Back and announced we would now fire off the remaining nine rounds before he moved our targets further back.
After he repeated his fire command and we had expended our rounds he made his rounds again. Seeing my target he did a ‘Double-Take’ and looked at me. My rounds had all hit the ‘Bullseye.” As he was staring at me I just kinda shrugged and tried not to laugh.
The targets were moved further and further back. This presented no real problems for me even though my eyesight ain’t quite what it used to be.
It did present ‘problems’ for several of the others. I could see their targets as well as mine. Obviously many of them DID NOT have fifty holes—More like thirty or so by my estimation.
Our targets were pulled in to be graded,
I think the requirement was seventy-five percent hits.
Anywhere on the HUGE Silhouette.
I think all managed that, but some just barely.
After all targets had been inspected and signed and we were heading up to the front desk to finish up the paperwork more than a few of my ‘Fellow Rangers’ came over to me,
A beautiful tribute to an American Icon: Amelia Mary Earhart
(And yes. I know there is A LOT more going on in this song. I am not stupid.)
“Like Icarus ascending On beautiful foolish arms”
–Joni
One of my favorite Amelia quotes:
“The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure. The process is its own reward.”
Video Credit: sonicboy19
Bonus on “Hissing of Summer Lawns” A great and respectful analysis
Vid Cred: For Most of the above: JoniJourney
(I am too lazy to Break it Down)
*****
Don’t let this Bring You Down. It is a Beautiful Song, Performed by a Beautifully Sensitive, Thoughtful Lady.
A beautiful tribute to an American Icon: Amelia Mary Earhart
(And yes. I know there is A LOT more going on in this song. I am not stupid.)
“Like Icarus ascending On beautiful foolish arms”
–Joni
One of my favorite Amelia quotes:
“The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure. The process is its own reward.”
Video Credit: sonicboy19
Bonus on “Hissing of Summer Lawns” A great and respectful analysis
Vid Cred: For Most of the above: JoniJourney
(I am too lazy to Break it Down)
*****
Don’t let this Bring You Down. It is a Beautiful Song, Performed by a Beautifully Sensitive, Thoughtful Lady.
A beautiful tribute to an American Icon: Amelia Mary Earhart
(And yes. I know there is A LOT more going on in this song. I am not stupid.)
“Like Icarus ascending On beautiful foolish arms”
–Joni
One of my favorite Amelia quotes:
“The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure. The process is its own reward.”
Video Credit: sonicboy19
Bonus on “Hissing of Summer Lawns” A great and respectful analysis
Vid Cred: For Most of the above: JoniJourney
(I am too lazy to Break it Down)
*****
Don’t let this Bring You Down. It is a Beautiful Song, Performed by a Beautifully Sensitive, Thoughtful Lady.
