Monday, Dec. 10, 2001
“In the glory days of childhood I could sit for hours and stare up
at the sky, provided it was dark. I would count the stars, lose
count, start over from scratch, lose count again, swear very loudly,
give up, and just look at the moon.
An acquaintance of mine, Arch Hofstetter, would laugh rudely when I
said one day we'll colonize the moon. He told me we'd never step
foot on the moon, which I argued with. I had imagination and
optimism, hope for the future. I told Arch surely one day science
would be advanced enough to take a man to the moon. Again, he
assured me:
'We'll never walk on the moon. I bet you a million ka-billion
dollars.'
Later, Arch and I were stationed together in the final days of
World War II. Just lying on our backs in some cold German minefield,
afraid to move for getting shot, and we'd lay still and lazily talk
about the moon and the stars. I talked about rocket propulsion and
nuclear weapons, telling Arch someday mankind would get to the small
gray orb floating over our heads.
'Trust me, we'll never walk on the moon. I bet you a million
ka-billion dollars.'
Well, next time I saw ol' Arch Hofstetter was 1969, roughly
September. He was getting out of a taxi and I was getting in, one of
those strange coincidences perfect for anectdotal stories.
'I suppose you saw the T.V.? Read the newspapers?' I asked him with
smug confidence. 'We put a man on the moon, Arch. I knew we could do
it.'
Naturally I didn't expect Arch to get out a check and scribble in 'a
million ka-billion dollars' or anything, but I didn't appreciate his
reaction at all when he said: 'All I said was that we'd never get to
the moon, Sampson, you and me together. I never said nothin' about
other guys.'
I hate when people do that!
Arch Hofstetter died about a year later. Doctors say it was a bad
heart and unhealthy lifestyle, but I think he realized we still had
a good number of years left in which I could've found a way to get
to the moon and dragged him, even involuntarily, and there ain't no
way he could afford a million ka-billion dollars for a lousy bet.”
“Moon”
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
"Radio"
One day my brother Goose and I had treed a cat. It was barrels of fun, until we heard mom yell from the backporch, 'Kids! Come in and see!'
"First Kiss"
I remember quite clearly the first girl I ever kissed. I was very young and inexperienced, no older than 13. No younger than 13 either. In fact, I was 13.
"Penpal"
In my younger days I had a penpal named LeShandy. He was a boy roughly the same age and lived in a faraway place I had never heard of called Iceland.
"Penny Candy"
In my childhood there was a penny-candy store on the corner, run by a rail-thin
immigrant who was constantly in jail when the country was at war.
"Darby"
Uncle Trey had a dog that we all liked a lot, a dog by the name of Darby. He was a
small white dog with wiry hair, I think he was a Jack Russell terrier.
"Vase"
Mom had this vase given to her in Great Aunt Mable's will and she loved it
dearly. It sat on a wooden table in front of our picture window. I think it was from
Japan.
"Mr. Dingle"
I remember in my youth, I had made a mask out of rubber bands and construction
paper. It was a beautiful thing, glittering with sparkles I had glued around the eye
holes.
