Writing Toolbox

NOTE:  This one might turn into something.  Raymond is still developing in my head so I don't have a middle or an end yet, a problem to be sure.  Please let me know what you think as this goes along. -- M

Raymond was a quiet boy.  He was a good student but had no real friends.  He lived in a suburb where there were lots of kids his age, but he didn't play with them.  Instead he sat on the porch of his parent's house with a book.  He wasn't reading though, he was watching over the top of ihis book while he pretended to read.  He watched other children playing, riding their bikes, walking their dogs.  He watched adults out for walks and runs in the early evening.  

Raymond was particularily fascinated by the rythym of lawnmowing.  Some of his neighbors performed this All-American ritual exactly the same way each week.  Same day, same time.  Some alternated directions week to week and seemed particularily proud of the wheel lines left in the freshly mown hay. Once an older boy who lived in a house nearby came storming out of the front door and drug the lawnmower roughly out of the garage.  He started it up and proceeded to carve an obscenity into the tall grass.  He admired it awhile then tried to mow over it to hide it.  Alas, the ghostly outline of the word was visible most of the following week.  Raymond noticed that the next time this home's lawn was mown, the job was done by a middle-aged woman who was wearing jeans, a light colored sleeveless blouse and a baseball cap with her blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail sticking out of the gap in the back of the cap where the size adjusting strap lived.

In the winter, while it was rainy and cold, Raymond would sit inside the house looking out the front window hoping for someone to walk by. When he was inside he never bothered with the book he never read, he just sat back slightly from the window, hiding from his neighbors.  Mostly people were in a hurry on those days, hunkered down in a warm coat with a hood pulled up over their heads, or carrying an umbrella fully spread in a vain attempt to stay dry.

Typically, his parents noticed this behavior and were somewhat concerned by it.  Only somewhat though because Raymond never exhibited any other unusual behavior and was more than willing to do his childish chores and homework on time without being reminded.  They actually found relief in that (compared to his older brother) and that he didn't spend a lot of time in front of the TV or playing video games.  Raymond's father ocassionally tried to encourage him in sports by inviting him to play catch with him or kick a soccer ball around.  Raymond wasn't interested.  Raymond's mother guessed he was OK as long as he answered her questions.  He participated in the family observances of regular church attendance and family prayer each evening before bedtime. He always said "goodnight" and "I love you" to her before getting into bed, so she didn't worry, just figured it was a "phase".

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Cell phones are good for everything these days, except talking.

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You are pretty frugal with the English language. I'm just trying to get a conversation going here.

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Steve Jobs was a great influence on his generation and those that followed. One piece of advice he has for us is to love what we do and never accept compromise on that point. Easy for him to say. He was worth 30 gazillion dollars when he passed. Sigh, I was born in 1955 the same as him. I find myself wistfully considering his words and see that at 56 I still haven't found myself. Hey! Maybe what I love is the hunt! There ya go!

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Q: Which is harder: conquering the desire or ignoring the guilt?

A: For most it depends upon the degree.

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He felt pressure on his neck, just below his left ear. It seemed familiar. Then he heard the double click. He knew what that was.