Category: My Poetic Hide


TORTU 821x513

 

Drawing by Carolyn Milliken

 

For the past several weeks my master here at The Tortoise Factor has undergone successful hip surgery.  I’ve had to secretly fill in for him.  The operation went as well as the dual knee replacement of several years ago. The hip joint like the buns that surround it, unlike the leaner neighborhood of the the knees, is harder to access and less painful in the end because of all the muscle in those climes.  So, according to Master, the knee trip was briefer but a little more  painful. The hip job just takes longer.  He took very few pain pills and Tylenol did the job.  Three days max in the hospital.

Although the tortoise has a hip, it has to have industrial strength due the long life of tortoises — sometimes over 100 years.  Then, too, I don’t suppose we tortoises subject our bodies to the risks of strenuous, unnatural feats of athletic prowess.  We sleep a lot in winter, too.  We don’t mow the lawn and experience a lot of rotation at the end of each cut.  We don’t bowl and crouch either. I can’t ride a bicycle as Master does.  I don’t know whether pumping uphill does good or bad for the hips.  Mostly I think Master just sat on his can too much and didn’t work out the arthritis, but I’m only a tortoise not a doctor.  Master is a bookworm.  He told me he’s going to look into one of those new desks with the elevator(crank or electric) that enables a sedentary man to at least stand at his computer.

Master didn’t want to write this article, because “There’s nothing more boring than an old fart rambling about aches, pains and travails of infirmity and inconvenience.”  Master was lucky to have those cheerful nurses and a long suffering wife stepping and fetching for him now for weeks.  By the way he says that tool called a reacher was a blessing as a man isn’t able to bend or allowed to bend more than 90 degrees).  It’s a wonderful tool.  Unlike the plastic urinal and the horrible surgical stockings, Master will keep the reacher  — but I wish he’d quit teasing me and the dogs with it.  Well, he feels good anyway, snapping away at all of us with his reacher.

While he was pretty diligent about his therapy, he groused a lot, especially at the leg lifts,  bridges and crotch crunchers.  He was great at wiggling his toes.  The walker made him feel really elderly and just as clanky as the device itself.  When cane time came, he was surprised at the challenging art of using a cane.  If you ever have to use one, remember to put it on the side opposite the injury  — seems strange but it works.  Master has trouble remembering this.  Truly he found caning as troubling  as walking and chewing gum at the same time.  Regardless of using a cane or  walker, a man has to look out for sleeping dogs and cats.  After surgery it’s all about balance and minute caution.  Oh, and Miller High Life. That rule he broke.

With the blessings of God, medical technology, a great wife, Medicare, books and the company of terriers and Toby. Master is very happy and thankful.  Oh, one last caveat, if you buy ankle weights add them VERY slowly.  A success with an effective half pound weight is no invitation to add five too soon. Easy does it. This is tortoise wisdom at its best: incremental, careful exertions.  Let the hare get the shin splints.

Steadfast and cautious,

C. Tobin Tortoise

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“There exists in the East a legend which relates that The Great Spirit made a statue of clay in the image we now know as human, and asked the soul to enter into it. But the soul refused to enter into this prison, for its nature is to fly about freely, and not be limited and bound to any sort of captivity. The soul did not wish in the least to enter this prison. Then the Great Spirit asked the angels and devas to play their music and, as they played, the soul was moved to ecstasy. Through that ecstasy–in order to make this music more clear to itself–it entered this body.”  — more

via How the Tortoise Taught Soul Nada Brahma.

In the preceding blog Ambrose Bierce says the tortoise is without soul.  Perhaps, but here is how Tortoise inspired Soul with Nada Brahma.

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“TORTOISE, n. A creature thoughtfully created to supply occasion for the following lines by the illustrious Ambat Delaso:

 

 

 

 

 

TO MY PET TORTOISE   by Ambrose Bierce

 

My friend, you are not graceful –not at all;

Your gait’s between a stagger and a sprawl.

Nor are you beautiful: your head’s a snake’s

To look at, and I do not doubt it aches.

As to your feet, they’d make an angel weep.

‘Tis true you take them in whene’er you sleep.

No, you’re not pretty, but you have, I own,

A certain firmness –mostly you’re [sic] backbone.

Firmness and strength (you have a giant’s thews)

Are virtues that the great know how to use –

I wish that they did not; yet, on the whole,

You lack –excuse my mentioning it –Soul.

So, to be candid, unreserved and true,

I’d rather you were I than I were you.

Perhaps, however, in a time to be,

When Man’s extinct, a better world may see

Your progeny in power and control,

Due to the genesis and growth of Soul.

So I salute you as a reptile grand

Predestined to regenerate the land.

Father of Possibilities, O deign

To accept the homage of a dying reign!

In the far region of the unforeknown

I dream a tortoise upon every throne.

I see an Emperor his head withdraw

Into his carapace for fear of Law;

A King who carries something else than fat,

Howe’er acceptably he carries that;

A President not strenuously bent

On punishment of audible dissent –

Who never shot (it were a vain attack)

An armed or unarmed tortoise in the back;

Subject and citizens that feel no need

To make the March of Mind a wild stampede;

All progress slow, contemplative, sedate,

And “Take your time” the word, in Church and State.

O Tortoise, ’tis a happy, happy dream,

My glorious testudineous regime!

I wish in Eden you’d brought this about

By slouching in and chasing Adam out.”

 

SOURCE:

http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/1187239/ambrose-bierce/tortoise-n-a-creature-thoughtfully-created-to-supply

Ambrose Bierce embed quote add to favorites email quote Created Creature Following Illustrious Lines Occasion Supply Thoughtfully Tortoise

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Today I saw the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, by the Harbour in Sydney.

via O w n e r l e s s – M i n d.

PLEASE SCROLL DOWN WHEN YOU GET TO “OWNERLESS MIND.”

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It is I who must begin.

Once I begin, once I try —  . . . more

via O w n e r l e s s – M i n d: A poem by Vaclav Havel.

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“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; . . .

via To Autumn by John Keats : The Poetry Foundation.

 

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From Darkening the Grass by Michael Miller

via Nin Andrews: From Darkening the Grass by Michael Miller.

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My post of Love (I) seemed to be well received.  Here is another by Herbert.

Love (II)

Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame
Attract the lesser to it: let those fires
Which shall consume the world, first make it tame,
And kindle in our hearts such true desires,

As may consume our lusts, and make thee way.
Then shall our hearts pant thee; then shall our brain
All her invention on thine Altar lay,
And there in hymnes send back thy fire again:

Our eies shall see thee, which before saw dust;
Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blinde:
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde,
Who wert disseized by usurping lust:

All knees shall bow to thee; all wits shall rise,
And praise him who did make and mend our eies.

George Herbert

 

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When I was a little boy I never wanted to live where I lived.   That’s because I was happier living where we lived before.  Where we lived before was a city, an industrial city that didn’t stink.   Well, Dad thought the unions stank;  oh, and his boss.  In this city they made appliances, industrial generators, farm equipment, electrical motors and even automobiles. That was in Ohio. We never should have moved away, but Dad had to.

My best pal’s dad was an engineer like mine, but a mechanical one,  where they made tires. Dad was electrical and according to my stepmother he was  creme de la creme.    On summer evenings the mechanical engineer used to sit  on his front stoop in his under shirt.  His tummy rolled and hung over his belt.   He drank Burger beer and watched us catch fireflies in a jar.  You could smell his cigar from down on the sidewalk and see its red glow. Often my pal’s dad drove us to the train station where we put pennies on the track and watched them get flattened.  Dad didn’t take us places but he didn’t get mad like the mechanical engineer did.

I was never older than six when we lived there, but I had friends in the city.  Later when I visited was when the  regret set in.  My pal, enjoying the city,  had a really good high school where he played the cello.  He became a priest.

The place where I never wanted to live was in the country, outside a little town. It wasn’t the country I hated.  I liked being alone in the country. It was in the  little town where I became a snob.  My stepmother didn’t like where my father had brought her.  I tended to agree with her.  It’s hard to be a snob in the sixth grade.  You don’t know you’re one, but everyone else does.  Stepmother came from another, bigger industrial steel city where they made dump trucks.  Both cities had a twelve-story building, but my stepmother’s city had a club on the top where a black man called Nathan was a waiter.  She always asked for Nathan and gave him a big tip. I liked cities. My stepmother was married to an eye doctor before  he died.

There were only two houses within sight, but you could hear cow bells down the road beyond the trees in the meadow.  Two pretty girls lived on that farm.  Later on, the girls in short shorts rode horses a lot. I longed for a horse.   Once I hung around the barn and watched the girls milking their cows.  I was transfixed by them.      My stepmother let us hold dances in the basement of our house.    My stepmother always thought it best to have the parties at our house.  Pubesence, especially hairy boys, scared her.

In school I got a lot of B’s and my share of A’s so I made the Beta Club and went on to college where I became a fraternity man.  My stepmother was pleased with that because being part of the Miami Triad of fraternities was very important.

So, I finally got out of the town where I didn’t want to be.  Funny though, I’ve always wanted to be somewhere else.

Steadfast and cautious,

The Tortoise

If you took a full body view of Johann, he had the look of a typical, brown dachshund. His ears did not fold over as a dachshund’s should. They had a ludicrous, erectile look like a jack rabbit. Maybe you could see a little of the mini-doberman in him, but more likely just the hare. His very front teeth were crooked. In general he was an asymmetrical oddity. I settled on Patagonian rat catcher as the brand name for this chance-bred animal.

From the neighbor’s yard, he’d see my wife or me playing with our pet and wanted to join us; and when the neighbors went away for awhile, we used to bring him into our yard to play with Henry, our own mixed breed. When play was done and he had grown sleepy, I lifted him back over the fence and filled his water bowl which our neighbors rarely did. It was hot in Kansas that summer and he constantly upset his water dish, jumping around, spilling it, excited to go next door. His visits were regular to our yard as the neighbors were gone a lot. When they were home they were gone a lot, too — even the kids ignored him. We thought we were acting in secret, but they might have known of their dog’s house calls.

One day he’d been short-chained in a little out building. As usual he’d jumped around and spilled his water bowl. He was just lying there, depressed, his feces lying about. I waited until the neighbors left that day. They always left at least once a day. I released the dog onto our free range. Then I went back and cleaned up the feces. Later, when the neighbors got back, they saw their dog in our yard and said nothing, not even a nod, a smile or a thank you. They weren’t even irritated that we could tell. The next day I saw the mother in the yard. “Do you like your pup?” I asked.

“Don’t care one way or the other,” she said. She looked as though she didn’t care about anything.

“You know, he wants to play with our Henry. Do you mind if we have him over every now and then. Henry can use the exercise and they’re getting used to each other. We don’t mind.”

“Help yourself to him then.”

So I did and the pup spent more and more time with us, even when his owners were home. I cannot recall seeing the neighbor kids play with him, nor did I hear kind words, silly words, affectionate words ever spoken to the animal. No one ever took the dog for a walk. Eventually I caught the neighbor lady outside one Saturday and I said, “Would you like to give up the dog completely?”

“I’ll check with the kids. I don’t care. It was the kids who named him “Nuisance,” you know.”

The kids didn’t care so I lifted the dog permanently into our yard, our care and our lives. It wasn’t hard to change his name. He took to “Johann.” We bathed him right off and got his shots two days later. We never saw Johann look back through the neighbor’s fence or wag his tail when he saw them come and go. Johann never looked back.  He became a tough,  crusty, old urchin and lived to nineteen.

Steadfast and cautious,

David Milliken

 

 

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