print and read at leisure /or wrap your weekend fish in it Py
> The Tea Business
>
> Oxford Mississippi; the Grove
>
> The day is 70 deg "s and sunny: the roar of the
> March lion is over and the blue birds are back
> warbling off the lofty heights of our scaffold and
> eating the tiny crumbs from our donuts
>
> Its break time and the men lay out in the
> warm sun like dozing alligators
> Just out from under the logs of winter.
> They idle the safety rail and zip open their heavy Carharts
> to air out the stagnant sweat stains of their tee shirts
> and let some sun dapple their chest hair
> and grizzled pattie-poos.
>
> Stepping over them is like stepping over disheveled laundry bags
> Or more likely; rolled up rugs from your mother in laws basement
> that are in need of air and a good beating;
> Whatever they are; they stink; they swear, and they idle their break time
> with the same old ribald jokes about floozies or their misspent nights
> in pursuit of the opposite sex and cheap liquor
>
> My education of late has changed me from all that
> I no longer slug back black coffee and tell stories of North Africa
> and the embassy parties; nor do I carry on about the sporting girls
> tossed out nude in the hotel lobby,
>
> No; No I have reformed and quit coffee and slowed down
> adapting a more meditative;
> if not exemplary role for my men. to look up to,
> You see Coffee has given me the portajohn shakes
> I discovered this one cold morning frozen to the seat
> while meditating on the rude hieroglyphics and the
> bad spelling of my colleagues
> Everytime I got up, I had to sit back down; and by the time
> I was done I had freezer burn
> So I decided to switch to tea.
> Japanese herbal tea; and its made the world of difference.
> Now putting one through the hoop is a breeze
>
> My routine now is to bring a thermos
> of hot green tea with me
> and bingo it has got me motivated
> to be more productive if not regular. One of my new accomplishments has
> been
> to create a little rustic tea garden
> for myself around the corner of the
> scaffold and away from the men.
> It's a delightful little meditative spot; four stories up,
> full of sunshine and on a cul de sac of plank board and kick rail
> The structure is humble and constructed of simple
> 2x4's that are all weathered; with a roof made of simple scrap
> I have a tool box for a table and 5 gal buckets for chairs;
> if I want to sit sat Zen I just sit on the floor plank and
> use the roof for a back rest and as they say in Midnight
> Mississippi...... Viola ... I'm transformed.
>
> It's my eagle eerie; and I'm proud of it.
> I can take my tea there in a meditative happy
> ceremony of sun and fragrant air with nobody to bother me
> Nearby I have the woods to gaze out upon;
> and in springtime there has been a day by day
> drive by explosion of color that captivates
> my soul and transforms me
>
> The leaves are not yet all out on
> the trees but the buds are;
> so peering into the forest I can l see the
> black wet wood of winter along with the
> total mix of new green shoots amid a sea
> of yellow daffs that drift the forest floor in a riot of color
>
> I particularly like the delicate pink and purple blossoms
> of the red bud and wild pear;
> I gaze upon their beauty and color
> as they seem so vivid and vibrant
> with an ethereal aura captured only perhaps
> by the Japanese masters in their colorful nature prints
> of the Houkasai School of the late Edo period
> .
> Here beauty inspires poetry and music,
> the language of God, for without beauty there
> would be no art; and without art there can be no soul;
>
> The masters say Study, pray, meditate,
> then chop wood and carry water for enlightenment;
> Rake leaves ..... and your faults will fall away
> as you become one with nature
>
> So I covet this little spot and sweep clean its porch;
> While fussing over the wall-Mart rosemary I got going
> in the plasters work tray
> or the lemon verbena I keep on the roof;
> or the thyme I got
> hog wired in little pots to the 2x4's .
>
> I talk to my plants like little children
> using baby talk to prune, water and take
> care of their every needs
> It helps me center and escape the pressures
> of the day and to transform the negative
> into the positive.
>
> Like this morning I got a meet with the painter
> who's been dodging me for a week;
> and its his second dodge for the month.
> You see his new paint matches the historic old paint;
> and his crew has been dropping it on my new stonework
>
> The problem is I have finished cleaning t
> he entire building and need to bill for it
> Now I hear he is claiming his paint is really the old paint;
> and that I need to clean it.
>
> The wise ones say this is a bad dream; a rock in the stream , .
>
> Naturally I first brought this to the attention of his crew;
> an intolerable collective of three stooges, who were raised
> on paint chips and thinner fumes and appear to be mentally
> deranged by it.
> I showed them the paint spills; they looked at me;
.then looked at the wall;
.then looked back at me ...... And said nothing
> . While staring off into space.
>
> OK ; I rest my case and called their boss ;
> a Santa Claus character with a WC Fields nose
> who gums a half smoked White Owls and lies to your face.
> He said he would look into it; that was
> two weeks ago; and guess what?
> they are still dropping paint on my wall
>
> Grrr .
> Wise ones say "rock in stream must listen "
> they say ? "make Rock listen "
>
> Ok I've been here before; playing the sucker and holding the bag-
> I am reminded what the old master leg breaker used to say
> in the neighborhood ..."I no happy ..."
>
> Painters are notorious alcoholics they promise the moon;
> get paid up front, and never come back
>
> They drop new paint and call it old paint;
> And in our case , the painter is going to film flam the Tea guy
> into cleaning it all up.
> Funny guys; " What am I here? Chopped liver?
>
> So this morning before he arrives I take my burden to my spirit guides
> through the color and beauty of my natural surroundings
>
> I invoke guidance from the spirit stones and the wood devas
> To help and empower me to move rocks from my stream
> and so undo this great unpleasantness
> ;
> I study the tea leaves in my cup looking for signs
> and call on wise ones to assist
> me for answers and direction
>
> What I am getting however is the
> masters of my old neighborhood
> A collective of wise guys, who appear in my cup
> as a complex if not bizarre assortment of raffish individuals
> whose varied talents and club membership made them
> invaluable to the environment of pool halls;
> gin mills and the numbers joints that abounded there
>
> I swirl my teacup once more thinking it's a mistake
> hoping for some real Zen masters to show up
> . No dice,
> But Hey
> I wasn't born on a mountaintop; and I don't speak Tibetan
> And the highest I ever got before the 60's was on the elevator
> in the Empire State Building; and so what if I do speak a little Italian
> and like the casino? Whatsamadder-widat ?"
> These are my spirit guides and the cards
> I got dealt with in this life.
> Got lemons make lemonade;
> I am sticking "wid em "
> Besides if there is one redeeming quality
> these mugs got it is
> they can get blood from a stone
> Something they don't teach in college
>
>
> I welcome their spiritual company and
> scan the yard for the painter .
>
> Down below is a nightmare
>
> A world war one quagmire of mud and diesel smoke
> with trench masons and window guys fighting it out for dry space on
plywood scrap pavers
> while half crazed sheet rockers in giant sky lifts churn
> the earth in their monstrous machines feeding gangs of Mexican day
> labor endless sheet rock through dark gaping holes in the side of the
> building. .
>
>
> Roofers; that delightful trade of gentlemen ,
> work a third lift ;feeding roving gangs of their brethren pallets of
> buckets and silver roofing paper as they dance the far roof ,and call in
> drops
,The machines spin and waltz the earth barely missing one another until it
is a pablum of mud .
Its all madness until my adversary finally shows up
driving a beat up Cadillac tricked out in
> chrome with a leaking exhaust
>
> I climb down the outside of the fixed frame to meet him
> and take him by surprise as he exits the car and put my tea breath on him
> before he can escape into the building.
>
> Its all business; so I break the ice first
>
> 'Frank "glad your here ""We gotta talk about your paint "
>
> Frank looking over at the building : "are you sure its mine ? " It looks
> old to me "....
>
> Strike one for Frank; He's playing me for the sucker and I got bells
> going off
> My mama didn't raise no chumps ..
> the wise ones come to my rescue from me clocking this guy,
> they got my back; >
> I s peer into Frank's soul with my one dead eye and lock him in
> with the plain speaking I learned on the waterfront.
>
> "Frank; I just cleaned this whole [expletive) building ... so I know .....
> I know .... you and me are going to get along "..
......we really are Frank"
> "
> I assure him of this while holding my masons hammer
> (a two pound lump) menacingly at my side
>
>
> .
> ( impacting loudly) BUT...
."Your [-expletive) Ka -ka ... is not My
> ...(-expletive) Ka -ka "
My face is now in his. and I am pointing to his
> paint.
>
> Frank is getting nervous; he looks into my one dead eye and sees no one
> home
>
> Unsure of the hammer or my mental stability Frank fidgets and is afraid
> where all of this might be going
>
> However there is no reason to worry, the fact is I consider myself a
> fair man,
> perhaps even a learned man
> so I reason fairly with Frank the best way I know how
>
>
> "Frank" ?. The architect is telling me?. "No tickee-No shirtee "
> I emphasize my point by rubbing the thumb and forefinger together
> meaning the architect ain't going to pay me for the paint drops.
> "No tickee-No shirtee Frank !!
>
> I continue the harangue taking no prisoners
>
> "Its simple Frank "
> "You want money ? ...... I want money,
> What's not to like?
>
> I tilt my head (sideways) as if I am afflicted and
> look at him as though I see a bug that needs squashing
>
> "I'll make it simple Frank so you understand,"" gabeesh?
> "If he no pay me Frank ...I no happy ,"(pause)
> ." No happy Frank.!.."
> "that hurts my children. Frank and ... that's very bad"
> (pause)?.." Very Bad "
>
> I shake my head slowly in disbelief, looking sullen (and slightly nuts)
> At the prospect that my children might be hurt and all because of Frank
>
>
> Frank now seems very concerned;
> He sees toys in the attic . and wants out
>
> The spirit guides smell blood and circle his boat
>When suddenly I am blessed with one of those
ahh- ha moments,
>
>
> 'You Clean your Ka -Ka Frank ..... and we be happy "
> .......Happy happy happy "..
> .
> ."No clean Ka-ka and we ... Not happy Frank"...
>
> Now ....The thought of Frank and I not being happy together visibly
> disturbs Frank
> In this moment he appears like a deer frozen with the headlights in
> his eyes; ...... He is ready to punt
>
> .....
>
> Frank ?"I ask pensively
> ,"you want to be happy?
>
> Frank by this time has chewed and swallowed his White Owl
> The jackass has no where to go ... Its his paint, his ass. and he
> knows it.
> Since brave men run in his family; he immediately assures me
> he wants us Happy,
>
>
> "Then ... clean.... Ka-ka . Frank ." ...
Clean Ka Ka "
>
> He will start cleaning after lunch
>
> The spirit guides have been kind,
> their enlightenment has pardoned me from violence and
> have left me a hard won lesson in the form of a parting parable
> seen floating in my tea leaves
> it reads :
> " All men have a sense of self preservation
> sometimes you just gotta help em find it "
>
>
> Sun Yat Sun couldn't have said it better
>
> The rock is moved from the stream
> And now as the university bell tolls the noon hour, I will begin the
> slow climb back up
> to my rustic tea garden, to lie among the roughhewn planks with my back to
> the roof
> and partake in a quiet repast of salami and provolone on a bed of bib
> lettuce
> with slices of fresh tomato, yellow peppers and slivers of sweet Vidalia
> sandwiched between some seven grain and Mayo
> Here I will contemplate the budding forest;; drink hot tea, and gaze
> upon the little pear blossoms that delicately dance and make the noontime
> air fragrant with their perfume
> while wishing I was in the bloody tea business ....
> Py
>
**************
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