It was a nice day at the laundromat. I had the place to myself, until near the end of drying. As I am folding, in walk a father and his child. She wanted to go somewhere else because I was there. He said, “This place is good. It is only one person, he’s fine.” I found that odd, but figured she was a shy girl.
He started loading clothes, and apparently the machine took his money. He wasn’t happy. He angrily call the phone number listed should there be an issue, and got more upset when the person wasn’t going to rush over to refund his $2.00.
Before he called, he asked me which washer worked and which didn’t. I replied I knew the one I used works. He fumed, made his call, and then again asked me which ones worked and which ones didn’t. Again I replied, I knew the one I just used works. He then started going around trying to ruin other machines in retaliation. As he got to my row, again he asks, “Which machines work, and which don’t.”
This time I replied, “No, I’m not going tell you.
“Uh, what? Why not?”
“Because you have asked three times, I already answered you twice, clearly you don’t care about the answer.”
“I’ve had bad day, don’t make it worse,” he whined at me.
“Oh, so because you had a bad fucking day, that makes it okay for you to try to ruin other people’s day?”
“Don’t swear in front of my daughter.”
“Fuck you, I’ll swear if I fucking want.”
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“Oh, so you are telling me that swearing in front of your daughter is worse then threatening to kick a perfect stranger’s ass?”
He must have agreed, because he suddenly sent her scurrying behind the washing machines. He then took off his shirt because he was getting serious about threatening me. I am still just folding clothes. He comes up to my side, since he couldn’t get in my face, there was a table and machines in the way, and I looked over and asked, “Do you really think I am afraid of you?”
He fumed off. I packed my laundry, turned my back, and walked out. I resisted leaving a parting comment because in the end, I figured he would take it out on his daughter.
While all that was happening, I am watching his daughter wearing a look of amazement. I suddenly realized why she didn’t want anybody around when they did laundry, it was her father. This may have been the first time she had seen somebody non-violently stand-up to her dad and win with logic.
This also made me realize a new level of skill I acquired somehow. I don’t think there is a skill that has brought so many tears. In my youth, I would have never understood the pain of being powerful, or how much such an internal strength would hurt me. I could have never understood the terror of being able to stand-up.
– Duckin’ Kev
Category Archives: Uncategorized
“Hey There, Buddy”
I open the door walking into the laundromat. There is a ~6-year-old girl and her father pulling their clothes out of the dryer to fold. I look at him, and as is my norm, I say, “Hey there, buddy.” That little girl gave me the dirtiest and meanest look I had seen for a while. She stares at me in anger for a couple of seconds, and then says, “My dad isn’t your buddy, he doesn’t even know you.”
After contemplating for the brief moment the humor of it not yet occurring to his daughter that he may know somebody she doesn’t, I replied to her, “But someday he could be, so shouldn’t I treat him like he is?”
She was a little taken aback as she considered that response. I started loading a machine. I look up and see her looking at her dad for some guidance. I could tell he appreciated what I said, but he looked at her, trying to look neutral, giving a slight indication of “I don’t know”, leaving it for her to figure out. She then came over to help me load the machine, beginning that process of questions and “can I do that?”
I went to get change from the machine, letting her try to fit the bill into the slot. She was having to give a great stretch to reach it, and it was hard for her to keep the bill straight enough for the machine to take. I see that father patiently watching, but eventual he had break-up the good times because they needed to catch the bus.
It turns out they were in the process of moving in with her mother, making sound like it was a move of desperation rather than desire. To some degree, she was truly feeling stressed and scared, and in that moment of pain with distrust, I gave a positive focus. Hopefully, I planted a little seed that can be fed and grow, so that someday she could make that same difference with a simple, “Hey there, buddy.”
That was one of the good moments of laundry day.
– Duckin’ Kev
The Canyon Clamber
Today’s dog walk was, what I will for now on call, “The Canyon Clamber”. It is the same canyon as the earlier post, so look there for pictures. This time, I came from the bottom instead of the top. My goal was to power to the top as fast as possible, but the beauty of that cleavage of heaven was too much. For a brief period, as I rise above the filth of Bakersfield, I can forget, for just a moment, and I can feel the world through an innocence of humanity. I see the tire marks of enduros riding through the most difficult terrain I have seen tire tracks. I’m sure those riders didn’t notice the wonders I did, but I saw the wonders of the paths the selected and the obstacles overcome, and I can be amazed. Any other human artifacts are rusty relics. Times long gone, people long gone, turns their litter into an humbling monument of innocent callousness.
I finally checked out a hunk of rust I have been curious about. After getting to the top of the bluffs, I walked along a little bit and came across what I suspected was a truck cab. I looked down and contemplated a path for a controlled downfall off the face of the bluffs. As I am sliding down, I see metal sticking out of the dirt, it is a transmission. I am sliding down a 70% grade, and there is a random transmission sticking out the face of the bluff. I spent time considering the geologic wonder that lead to this transmission being buried dozens of feet underground, and exposed on the face of the bluff, then fell on.
Sliding down, now a much steeper grade, I’m noting I am near vertical, being supported mostly by the avalanche being pushed ahead by my feet that is completely showering my dog with sand. A typical favorite thought of mine at this point is, “I wonder why my shoes never seem to last.” Another thought, a newer thought placed into my mind, maybe having somebody to love me enough to note I am missing and have not returned from taking the dogs potty, that may have a clue as to where I may be, would be nice. That less then gentle landing, a protesting ankle, with only ravens to laugh, highlighted that.
Turns out that rusty metal was a truck cab, 67-72 Chevy C10. I do feel a spirituality when I come across such monuments where you have to wonder how, and why. It is the partial skeleton of so many lives being indirectly touched, rusting and wasting away, waiting to be buried with the next failure of the cliff.
The dogs and I made it back.
Then people happen.
-Duckin’ Kev