Ronald Douglas Drobeck
Almost Like a Song (click on the title)
This summer, on my way home from visiting all of my good friends between Tucson and the far corners of South Dakota, I stopped at a rest stop on I-25, above Trinidad, Colorado. It was 8:30 at night, terribly windy with heavy driving rain, and I was tired.
Not wanting to do the expense and formality of a rent, a room, turning on the TV and falling asleep, I had prepared a space in the back of the Trail Blazer for one man to stretch out on a camping cushion, with a pillow, and a warm blanket, in the valley between all of my stuff.
After having been cooped up in a house, doing housework, 3 Chihuahua’s and all the stuff going on in the world for a couple of years, I lay down in that space with the rain tapping on the roof, safe, the wind rocking my nest, and slept the sleep of a Weary Traveler for the next six hours. What a great feeling.
Then, trained as I am, I poured myself back into the driver’s seat, fueled up at the first place I found, and took myself home, refreshed and excited without question.
The rest, so hard to explain.
Crooked people tend to collide more often because they can’t go straight!
To Whom it May Concern:
I have been forgetting and misplacing things my whole life. I started walking into rooms and forgetting why I was there since I was sixteen. I’ve never been able to remember names even if I like you. I’ve gotten lost driving at night forever, and spell something correctly 5 times and then miss it once.
I can’t type as fast as I think so I miss words. I will lose a train of thought because a new one has jumped in the middle.
I think in pictures so seem to be a little slow… sometimes. I have to interpret everything I see. Often times, when people are talking to me, something you said sends me on a mental movie adventure as my imagination takes over. (One of my favorite things to do).
Sometimes I have to refine my sentences to fit the people I am talking to, because I already know what you are going to say, or YOU won’t understand what I just said or am about to say. That causes me to look at you funny which you interpret as stupid.
SO, DON’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE I’M GETTING OLD!!!
I’ve been like this for frickin’-frack ever!
YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO ADJUST YOURSELF TO ME, or just wave hello as you keep going away. I will attempt to acknowledge that I saw your greeting if I’m on even the same planet. If I do not acknowledge, forgive me, for I may have been on another adventure. rdd
One sunny day, while driving for the Big Stone Cheese Factory, I’d made my right turn off of Hwy 212 onto a gravel road somewhere below the Wilmot Whipple farm.
I picked up milk here and there until I had to downshift my way up a long gravel incline that eventually allowed me to overlook the great Whetstone Valley on my right.
As I began to gain speed again at the top of the hill, a girl with long black hair trailing behind her was galloping her ‘paint’, bareback, on the prairie grass covered hilltop to the right of me.
She appeared as if I was witnessing a flashback, a moving picture of this black haired girl riding over that rolling hill with the valley in the background. There was the hill green and the sky blue, the rocks and the prairie grass, a little haze off toward the eastern horizon, that black hair waving in time with the gallop, and the white and brown horse, all flashing past my little truck window frame.
In an instant, this vision of the prairie hill’s past burned into my mind, somewhere southeast of Sisseton, South Dakota.
If asked, I would say this was one of my favorite snapshot memories as I was taken purposely back in time for an instant.
Whimsy from a prairie spirit?
Yes, romantically my mind tells me it was. I won’t give that up.
At this writing, you are the first to know. I’ve kept it to myself until now.
Why do I feel that a prairie spirit ‘touched’ me?
There is more to the story!
This spirit and I may have made contact a few years before…… in another story, on another special day.
The Duck Suits
So, some brilliant chicken suits in Fowl City have decided to have a discussion about the police profiling of ducks who may be carrying and spreading ‘foot and beak’ disease in their droppings.
It was decided that even though it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck on a Chickentown street, it cannot be stopped or questioned until after it ‘unloaded’ on a Chickentown sidewalk in plain view of everybody.
All Chickentown leaders have to follow the new mandated protocols commanding that, until damage is done, and foot and beak disease has spread throughout the area known as Chickentown, the police must ‘ignore’ all ducks.
In another vote, it was decided that it is still lawful for Chickentown cops to stop and question suspicious crowing and clucking chicken residents for non-licensed laying!
Meanwhile, down at the Duck Suit Store, and knowing that ducks can not be stopped, questioned, or ‘harassed’, …… duck suit sales are booming!