WEEPING INTO WONTONS c3.3

 Uneulogy

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WEEPING INTO WONTONS  c3.3

 

It’s May 1970-whatever. I hear 3 dogs ecstatically bellowing out from a now-open garage door in the Serramonte valley jus’ about 5pm. A bunch of us corduroy-laden dusty boys scramble to clear the disaster that has been created upon a tiered backyard. This instance was more than regular… more than church bells on a Sunday mass. Those three heavenly happy barks from three scrappy dogs of three different sizes… beats the beauty of three Italian church bells, anyday. Everyday.

 

George Kelcec has come home. …we gotta move fast to clear the mess (impossible).

 

He is aloof with them… he is patient with them, ...riffs out something witty and sarcastic to them… berates them, albeit completely adorably. But… they absolutely adore him, and even more so. They know. 

 

Just as we knew as children, like those dogs. That is how we were treated, ... strays taken in, and it was heartwarming. We deserved every berating, lecture, comical bit, made-up word, and love, as the dogs did...and I am thankful for all his stern steadiness, even decades later.

 

Now, it's May 2015-whatever, as I charge up through an all too-bright San Diego sidewalk after an immediate 463 miles. Lo and behold... three scrappy friends march up to the gate, ecstatically bellowing. I’ve now come home, unrealized in a surrogate fashion.

 

I long desperately for his gentle impatience... decades later.

Not to be had.                    Does not matter. Everyone is there hovering about. I lay back. 

Say hi briefly. There will never be a bye.

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