Sunday, June 26, 2011

Switching Gears #1

To the real world of others- Some very weird, can't be made up, difficult to believe, but true (I verified their veracity) news events of morons who clearly have the damaged genes of Inbreeding. Human Stupidity knows No limits.
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Good Thinking-Logical right?

Man shot off own finger to get rid of wart

Published: June 17, 2011 at 11:34 AM

DONCASTER, England, June 17 (UPI) -- A British man who attempted to use a shotgun to blast off a wart wound up losing most of his finger and was ordered to complete 100 hours of community service.


Sean Murphy, 38, who was charged after the March incident with illegal possession of a firearm, was also given a suspended 16-week jail sentence and ordered to pay $160 in court costs after pleading guilty in Doncaster Magistrates' Court, The Star reported Friday.


Murphy said he was glad to avoid jail and did not mind losing his middle finger if it meant the wart, which he suffered with for five years, would not be returning.
"The best thing is that the wart has gone. It was giving me lot of trouble," he said. "I didn't expect to lose my finger as well when I shot it but the gun recoiled and that was it. The wart was gone and so was most of my finger. There was nothing left so no chance to re-attach it."


Murphy told police he found the gun in a hedge three months before the incident. Authorities said he did not have a license to possess firearms.
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Florida-What can I say about this State that hasn't already been said by me of the geniuses who reside there. I suppose A lot more:

Man sets home on fire while cleaning infected foot

FORT WALTON BEACH, Fla. -- Officials say a Florida Panhandle man set fire to his home while trying to clean an infection on his foot.


The Fort Walton Beach Fire Department reports that the man told deputies he was sitting on his bed, using rubbing alcohol to clean his foot Wednesday morning.
His lit cigarette came into contact with the flammable liquid and set his sheets on fire. He removed the bedding and ran to get a fire extinguisher, but the flames grew out of control while he was gone.


The man and several other people in the home were able to get out and call 911. Investigators have accepted the man's story and ruled the fire accidental.
Officials didn't have any damage estimates, but the home was not livable.
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I always wanted to do this. He had the pennies and the balls to do it, what a guy!

Man cited after paying bill with 2,500 pennies

VERNAL, Utah - A Utah man has been cited on a charge of disorderly conduct after paying for a disputed medical bill with 2,500 pennies.
The Deseret News of Salt Lake City reports Jason West went to Basin Clinic in Vernal on May 27 prepared to dispute an outstanding $25 bill.


Assistant Vernal Police Chief Keith Campbell says that after asking staff members whether they accepted cash, West dumped 2,500 pennies on the counter and demanded that staff count them.
Campbell says the incident upset staff because pennies were strewn about the counter and floor, and West's action served "no legitimate purpose."


Police later issued the 38-year-old West a citation for disorderly conduct. That carries a fine of as much as $140. Or 14,000 pennies.
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Guess he has a death wish- Guaranteed 1 way trip to a Mexican beheading, his bosses will not be pleased.

Man abandons nearly $1 million at hotel

HOUSTON -- Law officers in Houston have confiscated nearly $1 million in two bags that a man abandoned after denying that he knew anything about the cash.


The Houston Chronicle reported Friday that the money-filled rolling suitcase and gym bag were seized from a man from Mexico staying at an upscale hotel.
Federal agents received a tip about possible drug money laundering and monitored the man's comings and goings, then confronted him May 26 as he prepared to check out. 


Investigators say the man, who had a valid U.S. visa, said he was given the bags for delivery in Houston. No further details were provided.
The man was not arrested and left the hotel, abandoning more than $995,000.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement says the forfeited cash will be used to fight crime.
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HMMMMM! Sneakers we used to throw on power lines  when I grew up in Brooklyn, but a deer, that's impressive.

Deer with wings' causes power outage

Jun. 16, 2011 04:41 PM

HELENA, Mont. - A Montana resident says an energy company has identified the cause of a brief power outage as "deer with wings."


Lee Bridges says she was outside with her dogs around the time the power went out when a NorthWestern Energy truck pulled up, giving her a chance to ask the driver what caused the problem.


She says he pointed up and said, "Apparently, we've got deer with wings."
 
Bridges looked up and saw a dead fawn on a power line.
It's unlikely the animal had an accident while trying to make like distant-cousin Rudolph. Bridges suspects that an eagle dropped its prey and couldn't retrieve it.


The lineman who removed the carcass from the power line said he'd never seen anything like it.

A worker uses a pole to remove a young deer carcass that was dropped onto a power line in East Missoula, Mont. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Definitely An Ass Hole

Cops: Man gets fish hook stuck in buttocks, fires shots

FREDERICK, Md. -- A man told an officer he fired gunshots after getting a fish hook embedded in his buttocks, say Frederick County, Md., police.


When a Frederick officer who was responding to a noise complaint knocked on Charles Akin Rempe's door, Rempe walked towards him "in a suspicious manner with his hand by his side," according to police.
He opened the door and told the officer he had been hiding in the closet for hours and had a fish hook imbedded in his buttocks.
 
According to police, Rempe said he was glad the officer arrived because he had fired several gunshots inside the apartment to attract the police.
The officer was concerned for his own safety, according to authorities, and placed Rempe in handcuffs until other authorities arrived.


Authorities say they found evidence of multiple gunshots fired inside the apartment and one round had gone through a side window, lodging in the brick wall of an adjacent building. No one was injured by the gunfire.
They say a loaded .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol was found inside the apartment.


Rempe was taken to the hospital for an emergency evaluation. Criminal charges are pending.
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I just can't Resist Florida Again-Bored about Abortion.


Florida politician caught looking at porn on Senate floor

A Florida politician was left red-faced when he was caught looking at a photo of topless women in G-strings on his laptop while sitting on the Senate floor.

In his defense, Mike Bennett, a state senator in Florida, said that he was "bored" during a debate on abortion in the state legislature in Tallahassee.
Video footage shows the Republican senator tilting forward the screen of his laptop - on which the offending photo is displayed - before closing the image and then tilting the screen back.


As he looks at the picture on his government-issued computer, another state senator is heard denouncing the law under question as "disrespectful to women".


But the Florida senator had a ready defense.
"I was just sitting there, bored as they were debating the abortion bill," Mr Bennett told the Sunshine State News. He added that the email was from an old friend "who happens to be a former court administrator". (Good GOP logical excuse, excellent- free pass for him)


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Erectile dysfunction, Hard pronunciation Hits Washington Politics, Firmly. I do hate ALL Politicians (Knock Wood) so this is NOT because I am just giving them a hard time to pick on them. My 3 current favorite hypocrites for today are John Andrew Boehner is a tanorexia sufferer, House of Representative Republican Majority Leader, and a dick. 

Undoubtedly eliciting countless giggles in high school Civics classrooms nationwide, the Congressman's surname is correctly pronounced "BAY-ner." Though—fittingly—its phonetic pronunciation is the term for an erection of the male reproductive organ.


Any Way- Congressman Anthony Weiner was talking to Speaker of the House John Boehner between sessions a few months ago.  


John (Woody to his friends) Boehner was complaining about the lack of respect he got from the media and some members of Congress. 


“It’s because of your name,” Weiner suggested.  “You pronounce it Bay-ner when everybody knows it should be Boner.  If you just pronounced it Boner, people would have more respect for you.  Look at me.  I could have pronounced my name Viner or Veener or Waynor, but I’m upfront with it, and people respect me.  Embrace your Bo-ner, just like I embrace my Wee-ner.” 


“Yes, embwace your Bo-ner,” said Barney Frank who just happened to be passing by.  “People widicule me about my name, but I don’t wespond.  I wespect my name.  When Pwesident  Obama starts his wemarks with, ‘Let me be fwank,’ I’m pwoud.” 

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

ON SLEEPLESS ROADS THE SLEEPLESS GO





   


The headstone in a cemetery never lies. 

Today is the third year of the horrific day, June 21, 2008, that you were cruelly killed at the age of 30, your life brutally stolen from you, your family, friends, me.

I posted the other pictures above of my son Steven because they are some of my favorite ones and also he is so real, alive in them, and for a second, he seems to actually be here.


I cannot believe that my son Steven would lie buried in a grave so young, me dreaming of things that he was and might have been.


I never said the traditional Mourners Kaddish prayer for Steven because it's words are meaningless.


Today I wrote my own Kaddish for Steven because his pain and loss need to be honestly described in real words, that accurately reflect my true feelings.               

MOURNERS KADDISH FOR:

Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, Shmuel Nacham BenYaakov,  Samuel Nathan, Son of Jerry.

                      

September 23, 1977- June 21, 2008

I am sorry that you are dead.


I am sorry you suffered so painfully, on that awful day, as you fought to stay alive.


I am sorry for the agony you felt, I see it in your eyes, face, and body from horrific evidence photos. 


I am sorry for the fear, terror, unimaginable pain you felt in fighting for your life, as they killed you. I know the truth of your courage in being able to fight so bravely.


I am sorry for you because you were not killed by accident, but instead by the senseless, stupid, careless, actions of so many others who could have saved your life, but instead, each in their own way, miserably failed you that day, never realizing or even considering taking responsibility or accountability for the consequences of their actions, inactions, indifference, and incompetence.


I am sorry you died not due to fate, nor randomly, but were instead killed by the cascading chaos of connected, dysfunctional, defective entities and others, all who caused your preventable death.


I am sorry for you about the DUI, drug impaired, unlicensed driver, speeding out of control, who didn't care about your life.


I am sorry about the inept, credentialed, qualified medical first responders who had no idea, not a clue, of what they were doing medically to you as they killed you.


I am sorry for you, that cowards who know the truth, but have no conscience to speak, remain silent, lie, omit, and cover up the facts that they all contributed to killing you.


I am sorry that you died in spite of the true facts that show you should be alive today.


I am sorry for the evil ones who have tried to defame you and erase you ever lived.


I am sorry that life is so cheap and yours has no value to those who killed you.


I am sorry that the Legal system is weak, corrupt and I have not been able to obtain real justice for you.


I am sorry for my failing as your father to keep you from dying.


I am sorry you did not leave the beach 1 second earlier or later to return home.


I am sorry that I was not there to protect you.


I am sorry that I was not there that day to comfort you, hold you, ease your pain.


I am sorry that I don't know the last thoughts in your mind before you died.


I am sorry that you died alone, with strangers, and no one even held your hand.


I am sorry that you died lying on a hot highway pavement in a place unfamiliar, in the middle of nowhere.


I am sorry that no one had the decency to cover your right arm and both feet as you lay dead under the blue tarp.


I am sorry the medvac trauma helicopter was delayed in arriving there by 4 minutes, too late to stop the first responders from touching you.


I am sorry that I was not even able to protect your dignity in death.


I am sorry that your soul and body were desecrated in death.


I am sorry that it was you and not me.


I am sorry that I had to bury you and that you didn't bury me first, as it should be.


I am sorry you cannot cry.


I am sorry you cannot scream.


I am sorry you cannot laugh.


I am sorry you cannot smile.


I am sorry you cannot feel.


I am sorry you cannot talk.


I am sorry you cannot breathe.


I am sorry you are silent forever.


I am sorry you are deep inside a cold, dark grave, rotting away, alone.


I am sorry you are blind and will never see again.


I am sorry you will never experience the rest of your life, nor remember the wonderful life you had until that final second before you died.


I am sorry you will never be able to realize your dreams.


I am sorry you will never feel the joy of being a father, husband , uncle, grandfather, great grandfather.


I am sorry you will never have another birthday.


I am sorry you will never again feel the experiences and potential of your incredibly gifted skills.


I am sorry you will never again be happy.


I am sorry you will never again feel the warmth of the sun.


I am sorry you will never again feel the wind on your face.


I am sorry you will never again feel the rain, snow, water.


I am sorry you will never again listen to music.


I am sorry you will never again play music on your Fender bass guitar.


I am sorry that you will never again enjoy reading books.


I am sorry you will never again ride your bike.


I am sorry you will never again play Ultimate Frisbee.


I am sorry you will never again play softball.


I am sorry you will never again play basketball.


I am sorry you will never again swim.


I am sorry you will never again be able to express your kindness and caring for others.


I am sorry you will never again explore your genius ideas that changed technology.


I am sorry you will never again experience the excitement of your life.


I am sorry you will never again be creative with your ideas, hands, and brain.


I am sorry you will never again discuss with passion the things that you believe in.


I am sorry you will never again write, expressing the magical beauty of your words.


I am sorry that you will never again feel love. Never.


I am sorry that you will never again be with those close to you now and in the future.


I am sorry for you that life is unfair.


I am sorry because you didn't deserve this to happen to you.


I am sorry for you that there is no answer to " WHY, WHY YOU"?


I am sorry for you that there is no god.


I am sorry for you that there is no heaven, just a dark, cold grave.


I am sorry that you cannot rest in peace.


I am sorry that you cannot wake up from this nightmare, that all this is real, irreversible, final.


I am sorry for you that time has stopped forever.


I am sorry that some people have forgotten about you.


I am sorry that the world said nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing about the injustices done to you.


I am sorry for everything that I forgot to say now, or cannot and did not say here.


I am sorry for YOU because you are not here, you are NO MORE on this earth.


More than anything, I am sorry that you didn't have a chance to say goodbye.


I will always honor you, remember you, miss you, keep you in my heart, preserve your memory in lovingly telling future generations about you, and love you forever. Your brother, sister, mother, family, and others who love you, will do the same. We will never forget YOU, never stop loving you, our precious beloved Steven. NEVER.


Steven, I can only say, I am SORRY, SORRY, I am so SORRY. 

 
 Hebrew -Amen. Love, Dad.
 













 

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Take Your Broken Wings, Learn to Fly Again, Learn to Live Free.

Oh Steven- I have been thinking about you even more than usual lately.  I see you everywhere I am, mixed in with the unbearable pain that I feel, was a smile today when I thought again of the Mr. Mister, Broken Wings story about you.


Makes me feel good and so proud of you when I think about this story and your passion for what you believe in.

This ones for you my Steven, I miss you and love you so very much.


" Don't understand. Why we can't just live long to each other's hands. This time might be the last, I fear. Unless I make it all too clear. I need you so. Take these broken wings and learn to fly again, learn to live free".


My Steven, learn to fly again, learn to live free, my son.
Love-Dad.


Monday, June 6, 2011

HE CANNOT REST IN PEACE

Samuel Wolkoff- June 6th forever etched in my soul. My father was gruesomely murdered on this day many years ago, at the age of 42. I was 10 years old. 

Certain facts in this blog post and also in the book "Blood Relation" have been deliberately edited to protect myself and others. To learn more information from the book, YOU CAN CLICK ON THIS LINK, and also CLICK ON THIS LINK.

Cause of death, 5 hours of tortured Murder By Strangulation. Hold your breath for as long as you can, then wait 40 more seconds, exhale, that will give you a tiny sense of the horrific way my father felt for 5  consecutive hours, a rope tied as a noose, was alternately tightened, then loosened around his neck, while his hands were tied behind his back. Death, when it finally came, must have been a merciful release for him.

The autopsy showed that my father struggled so bravely to live, that his eyeballs eventually burst, and he finally stopped breathing. His body then deposited at a desolate gas station, in the middle of the night, thrown out onto the ground, as a piece of garbage. Hold that entire scene in your mind forever, it is I can assure gruesome, and haunting in its profoundly graphic endless replay, over and over in my mind.


Oh, as an aside, his sister learned about his murder on the radio news, she immediately dropped dead of a heart attack in front of her four children.

Justice not served, justice not given, nothing complicated, nothing new, an innocent, good person, a human life has always been cheap. I did the best I could to obtain that justice. My father's error that cost him his life? He  believed in trust, in the sense of obligation to very close members of his family, by giving them a chance to change their ways. The good deed he did, paid back by these very same, who had him murdered. Horrifically ugly, but brutally true, and they all got away with it, didn't bother any of them, never mattered to them.

The family never talked about it for 40 plus years, not even to speak my father's name, it is the taboo secret code followed by many families of victims, as if somehow, the unbearable pain would get less. I have spent most of my life investigating his case and eventually shared it with our family. Never have figured out if I did good or bad by reopening the wounds, but I do know, those are permanent gaping, seeping, toxic, painful holes, they never really were ever closed.

I have been doing more thinking than usual lately, not necessarily a good thing for me, as I yearn to be one of those who are able to practice the art of ignorance is bliss.

How can a loved one who dies suffering, rest in peace, ever? Seems like a simple thing to believe, say, and its even reduced to a short acronym, R.I.P., easy to write. I can't write it, not possible, not after all the never ending suffering of my father, and us.

For an ultra private person like me, a blog is obscenely public, personal, grossly revealing, definitely not my style, but  interestingly, momentarily cleansing, a way of coming out, being up front with unbearable realities, my reality. Mostly
I do it for those that can no longer speak for themselves, who experienced unimaginable suffering that ended their lives. In this moment, my father's reality.

I have absolutely no idea, not the slightest clue why over 3,200 people as of this date have viewed my blog. I am sometimes intrigued as to why and what would anyone want to obtain from my words that could bring them here. I see search terms on my blog from people who arrived looking for information about my father, a lot of other interesting search words.

Some of you are the cowardly, but powerfully connected scum bags who murdered my father, as well as those of you in arrogant, incompetent, corrupt law enforcement, whose agencies knowingly covered their asses, and in doing so, betrayed your sworn oaths to defend justice, by participating in covering up the truth, obstructing justice in this capital offense, which has no statute of limitations.

We all know each other, or about each other, you know I have hidden away safely the written confidential secret official documents with my honest law enforcement and political friends, the written proof of all the detailed real facts. Nothing to be concerned about, it will remain buried. We all know the deal that protects all of us, the reasons that nothing else has been done by any of us about my father's murder, the reason these documents will remain hidden, is the unspoken but very clear mutual understanding we all have forever, of don't ever again fuck with any of us, and in return, we won't fuck with any of you by making the real truth public.

The March continues, May/June are the busiest  months for me, I dread this time of the year, horrifically gruesome memories of human, innocent lives wasted. The rest of the year, the ever present Demons make sure we remember those, whose memories others have tried to erase, these are my family, they  were human beings who will never be forgotten, they lived and never deserved to die in such horribly suffering ways. 

Today we remember my courageous father. He is not resting in peace, that is certain.

Why? Why Him???

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER

Most of you know that I am not a believer in god. To each his/her own and you are welcome to believe in whatever you want, as long as it doesn't hurt someone else.

I like the quotes of certain people who I think spoke the truth. Many of them were musicians, who expressed their inner most feelings through their songs, words that spoke about real life. Frank Zappa, Jimi Hendrix, and Jim Morrison possessed a great deal of truth in what they said. Hendrix and Morrison died from drug overdoses, Zappa from prostate cancer. Their wisdom did not serve them well in keeping them alive, but organized religion doesn't have much of a successful record either.

With credit to Jim Morrison, whose music with the Doors was so far ahead of its time, incredibly, profoundly religious in words of truth, reality about life. I am caught in a time warp where these words by Morrison, describe my realities of why I have been publicly blogging, especially now, starting with my  annual "MARCH", in particular this year, first about my sister Iris.

For too long Victims have had and continue to have no rights. The right of expression of their own reality, feelings, thoughts, and the humanity of those they speak for are sacred, and not meant to be taboo because it may upset other people.

In particular, I was ashamed of my pain, hid it from the world, as if there was something wrong, dirty about it. Almost like my loved ones did something wrong to make others uncomfortable by my talking about memories of them. It was as if I wasn't supposed to talk about it, too sad, not happy thoughts. Even losing my mysterious bananas, funny stuff, was an admission of my weakness, but it fit in my Blog, so I wrote about it.

People have actually told me how they expect or want me to feel, some mean well, most are selfish, frightened, cruel and actually have gotten angry with me, even ended relationships, because I did not listen to them, expressed what I felt instead, did not measure up to their standards of the way they believe I should feel. 

Sure most of my posts are raw, ugly, but that doesn't make it untouchable to express reality. If people choose to flee from me because they cannot deal with this ugliness, that is their choice.Those few that stay are my righteous family members, friends,  loved ones who can understand.

Jim Morrison said it best:
“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”

Saturday, May 28, 2011

IRIS

The dreaded march of grief begins as it does each year at this time. More difficult than ever, filled with the aching of a lifetime beaten down into ever present, increasingly toxic, non stop demons, as each year passes. 

We planted these Iris flowers in the garden out front of my house when my sister Iris died. I liked the idea that they are perennials, each year flowering in all their beauty, now looking so alive on the yearly anniversary today of the day she died, after a courageous and anguished battle.
 

My sister Iris was full of life, insightful, sagely wise, and then she was gone, tragically, painfully, and irrevocably. She deserved so much better but it was not to be. Why her? Why??
 

My sister Iris was more beautiful in a million ways than these plants. I will miss you forever my dear sister Iris, but most of all I miss your caring love. I love you. Jerry



Thursday, May 5, 2011

Bananas-Day-o

In a ritual that I have repeated hundreds of times, today I stopped by the local neighborhood mom & pop fruit store. My usual purchases of apples, onions, OJ, and always the greenest bananas that I can find. I really hate just a few days after buying them when the yellow bananas get mushy and don't taste good, those little fruit flies multiplying by the second, flying all over the place, ugh.


Buying bananas is a science to me, some people excel at picking the best cantaloupes, honey dews or other fruits. My expertise is in selecting, detecting, inspecting the finest greenest bananas. I am the Juan Valdez of Banana pickers, you remember Juan, from those old coffee bean picker commercials on TV, only the best are selected by demanding experts, like us.


I even know where the owners secretly stash their green bananas because they have to efficiently as a business sell the bananas by rotating the too ripe bananas getting sold quickly and not get stuck with throwing them out, so there is also a science to their not putting the green bananas out too early for the customers to buy. It really is a complicated theory to understand, especially on weekends when no new shipments arrive. Never buy bananas on the weekend, they are old, and ready to rot.


If you ask them for green bananas, they will say they don't have any, but a few weeks ago I discovered their hiding place for the stash, hidden deeper than Bin Laden was. So I buy my stuff and also get 2 nice bunches of green bananas and go to the checkout. This really nice hard working kid, the owners son, does checkout and we always talk about sports, his store, the weather, whatever naturally comes to mind. Today he asked me about how the weather was outside, even though he is standing 3 feet from the outside door and window. I get the feeling that his family chains him to the checkout counter and even makes him hold in his bodily fluids until his shift is over, before they allow him to use the bath room. No doubt he is also watched by them through wireless video cameras. I never see him eat anything, no time off for breakfast, lunch, dinner. He is skinny as a rail, like a toothpick.


So I get home and put my purchases away but I only can find 1 bunch of bananas, where is the second bunch? We all have "senior moments" for a lot of different things, I can understand throwing your car keys in the garbage during one of those "moments", it happens, but how does one misplace a bunch of bananas?


You know the drill,"Oh Shit" while going through the shopping bags from the fruit store already in the garbage can, looking in the front and back floors of the car, retracing the steps taken once the bags entered the house. Strange, still no bananas, so the next step is always "if I were a (fill in the missing senior moment item) a bunch of bananas on the lam, where would I go to hide? It would be the most unlikely place that they would go to outsmart and torture ones search to find them. So I looked in the bathroom, my bed, a couple of other strange places, nothing found.


OK seriously, this is bothering me now, it's not like the end of the world but kind of embarassing to me, how does one lose a large bunch of at least 6 bananas. I figure surely the kid forgot to put them in my bag or I left a bag in the wagon by the store parking lot. Like I said these are green trophy bananas, I want them, I need them. So I quickly jump into my car, shoeless bare feet, wrong eyeglasses on, no drivers license and I put the pedal to the medal to go back to the store and reclaim my lost bananas before someone steals these prize bananas.


Great, my wagon is right where I left it in the parking lot and my Brooklyn automatic radar scans the wagon in a nano second before I am even out of the car, no bananas in the wagon. I go into the store and ask the nice kid "did I leave my bananas here at the check out counter, or do you have a magic trick that makes them disappear and can now make them reappear". The kid looks at me with a weird look and says no there are no bananas, he says that he remembers putting them in my bag with the apples. I look back at him with my own strange look, and say,"that is strange , I can't find the bananas I bought". We both then look silently at each other and I make a strategic withdrawal back to my car, hoping he doesn't think I am too crazy.


I know that I need to just retrace my steps again, also look in the most obvious places now, since often things will reappear right in front of ones eyes, that we didn't see the first time. Well I looked and looked, no bananas. Gone, that bothers me for an hour or so, or more. Well actually it still bothers me, I almost always solve these mysteries.


I imagine in my mind the kid munching on my bunch of green bananas, having a good time in enjoying my "gift", or someone immediately seeing the bag left in the wagon when I drove away and they are admiring this beautiful bunch of green bananas, on their counter at home, a lottery winner of the day for them.


I guess that this will get chalked up to one of those very mysterious forces of nature that we all encounter and cannot solve. I refuse to consider this as "my senior moment", this will go down as a "cold case" of petty larceny by banana stealing gypsies. I do know that I will now add bananas to my long list of things to check in the future before I leave a store, Bank, or anyplace.


The sun is now beginning to set as I look outside from the comfort of my  homes living room window, I hear myself humming softly a song from my youth, so many years ago,  but of course one of those "important" things still for no known reason remembered by me-It was sung by Harry Belafonte:
Day-o, day-ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day-o, day-ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Work all night on a drink of rum
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Stack banana till de morning come
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Come, Mister tally man, tally me banana
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Come, Mister tally man, tally me banana
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Lift six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Day, me say day-ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day, me say day, me say day, me say day
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Beautiful bunch of ripe (GREEN) banana
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Hide the deadly black tarantula
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Lift six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day, me say day-ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day, me say day, me say day, me say day
Daylight come and me wan' go home


Come, Mister tally man, tally me banana
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Come, Mister tally man, tally me banana
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day-o, day-ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home
Day, me say day, me say day, me say day....ay-ay-o
Daylight come and me wan' go home


I am home and I still have 1 bunch of green, fresh bananas to tally man and eat.