Phineas Q.

This is true story.  All the pictures except for the one with the groundhog with the bandelero and automatic rifle are photos that I have taken of the creature and location in question.

I have a foe.

His name is Phineas Quilorian Grundschwein, esq.

He didn’t tell me his name.  He has never spoken to me though I have spoken to him many times.  I named him.  I wasn’t going to, until he made it a personal issue.  Anyone with whom one has a personal history especially one of animosity should have a name.  And so after considerable deliberation I decided that my mortal enemy’s name would, from this time forward, be P.Q. Grundschwein, esq.

It fits.

It all began over three months ago on August 1st.  I moved into a new residence which I lease.  The house is located on the edge of a small woods about halfway up a hill.  The property surrounding it is about 4 acres and the property and the house belong to the organization where I perform ministry services.  My primary service I render is that of property manager for the ministry–which includes the house where I now live.  The woods are close enough to residential housing and a commercial district and major traffic arteries to be frequented by homeless people whom I have observed leaving the premises after spending the night in the woods.

The house was unoccupied for quite some time before my arrival and was in a medium state of dilapidation.  The windows were boarded up.  There was a basement entrance to the outside that was missing a door.  The house had been broken into at least once.  On the non-woods side is a large apartment complex that is the densest crime district in the city.

There is also, because of the woods, a LOT of wildlife.  I have observed squirrels, raccoon, an owl, snakes, deer, and groundhogs–grundschweinen.  Working on the property before taking up residency there I have many times seen groundhogs all over the four acres–one time three at once peacefully searching for grubs in the back lot behind one of the other houses on the property.  If I had any thoughts of them at all at that point is would have been along the lines of, “how quaint.”

Not anymore!

30 feet from my back door

My bedroom projects out slightly from the main body of the house.  I had noticed a groundhog hole going under the foundation and into the crawlspace directly outside the wall

where the head of my bed is.  Around the corner was a smaller hole.  This is the “backdoor” for the varmint.  Groundhogs and many other burrowing creature will always provide themselves with at least two points of access to their underground lairs.  I thought the hole was abandoned.  Why I thought this is unclear because there is ample evidence of many many groundhogs living on this property.  As I said I have seen more than one Grundschwein at one time taking their meals on the lawn.

Nevertheless, I thought nothing of it when I moved in.  And then one night, about three a.m., I heard a furious commotion from beneath the floor.  I thought I had a homeless person in the basement as the outside entrance to the basement was wide open.  The house had been previously unoccupied for a long time and there were no blinds in the window so it might be natural for a homeless person to assume that the house was vacant and that a wide open basement might be a good place to crash for the night.

Out in the woods as I am, I was not about to go down to the basement, which would involve going outside, to confront someone.  Instead, I stomped around the house and loudly opened and closed the front and back doors.  The noises stopped and I spent a very restless night.

Phineas Q. Grundschwein

A night or two later the noises resumed.  This time I pinpointed their location.  They were coming from directly below my bed, and there is no basement beneath my room–only crawlspace!  The noises were horrible.  Something was violently scratching and clawing at the wood floor beneath the bed as though intent on coming up into my room.

Boys and girls, I am a pretty tough cookie.  I have been through a hell of a lot in my 50 years and there is very little that frightens me, but let me tell you something–this spooked me pretty good.  I have a very vivid imagination and this sounded as though Satan himself had finally grown tired of me eluding him and had decided to come up through the floor to personally put an end to me.  This time, it was three a.m.  It was loud.  It was violent.

Of course it wasn’t Satan.  It was a groundhog.  A VERY excited one from the sound of it!  The prospect of a demon possessed groundhog coming up through the floor wasn’t much more appealing than the thought of it being the Father of Lies.  In some ways it was even more spooky.  I could always invoke God and His protection had it been spiritual evil.  I would actually have to physically handle a groundhog, and any creature that was capable of clawing and/or chewing it’s way through a floor wasn’t one that I wanted to encounter.

P.Q. Grundschwein

Don’t get me wrong.  I can do it.  This isn’t equatorial Africa and we are not talking about Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh MY!  But it was scary nonetheless in the beginning.

I took my duck head cane and beat it on the floor over the source of the commotion and shouted loudly.  I stomped on the floor and shouted some more.  The noise ceased.  I went to bed and to sleep.  Again, I didn’t get much rest.  It became a nightly event.  Phineas would act as though he was going to come through the floor and get me.  I would stomp and shout.  He would quiet down and I would sleep without actually resting much.  Something had to be done.

I don’t care if was living here before me.  I was here now.  I was paying rent.  I was evicting his ass!  It was time to make a plan.

I decided to plug the hole with concrete.  I told my landlord/supervisor that I wanted three bags of Quikcrete for that purpose.  There was some worry that I might actually seal both his holes while he was down there and he would die a horrible, cruel death of hunger.  There was the thought that while dying that he might begin to frantically continue to claw and chew on the floorboards.  There was also the thought that if he died under my bed that I would have the stinking corpse of a groundhog perfuming the locale.

Don’t get me wrong again.  I am the LAST person who would wish cruelty on any of God’s creatures, but THIS GRUNDSCHWEIN HAD TO GO!!!  There was no good way to verify that he was down there, so I determined to just go ahead and plug the holes and if he was down there at the time, then it would become HIS problem!

Groundhog Condominium

So one bright and sunshiney day I got a bag of quikcrete and a wheelbarrow and a shovel and a bucket of water and praying that I wasn’t sealing Phineas up down there with a Cask of Amontillado, I proceeded to seal the holes.  I took care of his smaller auxiliary hole first, and then I sealed the main hole up with thirty pounds of wet concrete–lime, sand, and large gravel.  I know it was thirty pound because the weight is on the bag and I know the proportion I used to go into the main hole.  Brothers and Sisters, I packed it good and tight!  I smacked it in hard and smoothed the outside with the flat of the shovel, and then I walked away convinced that, whether of not he was in there at the time of the deed, he wasn’t going to be going under my bed through that hole anymore.

I walked away and went on to do other work and came back about one hour later and, in passing, went to check on the drying status of the concrete.  As it turned out he HAD been under the house.  He DUG through THIRTY POUNDS OF WET CONCRETE and freed himself from the deathtrap that I had placed for him.

That is a very significant thing.  Let me repeat it.  HE DUG THROUGH THIRTY POUNDS OF WET CONCRETE!

This is one bad-ass Woodchuck!  It was at that point that he became Phineas Quilorean Grundschweine, esq.–a very worthy opponent . . .

I supplied him with the material and the initial labor for him to do his own Home Improvement.  Where, at one time,

Holding Cell for P.Q. Grundschwein

he had a very rough dirt hole going into his house, he NOW has a very smooth and very circular concrete tunnel.  I call it his Groundhog Condominium.

I conceded to him a major battle.  But I was NOT to be defeated.  The war was mine to win or lose.  I began looking into the possibility of getting a live animal trap to catch him.  The problem was what to do with him once caught.  I called the ASPCA.  They said I could catch him if I wanted and I could kill him if I wanted but I could NOT release him on anyone else’s property–public or private.  I could kill him because by law groundhogs are considered “varmints” and are open season all year long with no bag limit.  But, to release him onto someone else’s property would be to give someone else MY problem and that is a no-no.  *sigh*

So, I started asking around if anyone had a live animal trap and a coworker did.  And he gave it to me to use and return sans Grundschwein.  And that is where I am right now in my Groundhog Wars.  I’ll keep you updated.  Denouement will be shortly.

Gryphon

Happy Birthday, Mickey

Tomorrow will be the anniversary of the birth of my only son.  He died in 1995.  Had he lived, tomorrow would have been his 25th birthday.  Around his birthday I become moody and he is on my mind a lot.  After 14 years the grief passes into remembrance but resurfaces on certain days of the year; Christmas, his birthday and the anniversary of his death.

Every day that passes with me sucking wind on God’s green earth is one more day closer to when I will be reunited with him.  I happily look toward that day.

Happy Birthday, Michael Jr.

Papa

More On FiFi

I was in Atlantic City testing the hypothesis “Unlucky in Love: Lucky in Cards.”  As it turns out the hypothesis is a bunch

FiFi. Once again not MY FiFi but this is a good facsimile. I was 30 years old. She made me quiver. Sparkly. Very Sparkly.

of crap.  It cost me 600 dollars in research fees to determine that, which in 1986 was a reasonable chunk of change.

Her name was FiFi.  She sat down next to me at the bar in the casino.  She was VERY French and knock me down and call me Sally sexy.  I asked her if I could buy her a drink, she said sure but at the moment she was going to a meeting for foreign businessmen.  I bet she was too.  She said she would meet me later and actually gave me a card with the Caesar’s logo on it and some title about Public Relations.

She left.  I staggered over to the baby grand piano where some guy who looked as though his name could very well have been Frederico “Tunes” Salvatori was playing show tunes.  I schmoozed with him a moment,  got another drink–about my 10th or 20th of the night so far–and went back to the blackjack table to continue my research,

And now you know the REST of the story.

doc

Levity

There hasn’t been a whole lot of it in here lately.  I’ve been doing some pretty heavy stuff and a little light on the lightness.

If You want Me To Like It . . . was a little like my old stuff, and Doc did Rumors which is his style but overall the mood has been kinda glum.  I want to thank you for sticking with me through it all.  I hope that some of the serious tales of the Life of a Gryphon have made some of you think about the direction in which life can take you.  I hope that some of my tales might at least provide a cautionary example if not a reason for hope itself.

In any case, no matter where you go there you are, eh?  Thanks for sticking with me.  I see a light at the end of the tunnel and I don’t care what Doc says, it is NOT the headlight of an approaching train!

As always,

And We Thank You For Your Support.

G

Lessons

I came into a situation to which I was called.  I came with the understanding that it was my calling to serve, and I did.  I served with the love of God in my heart the children and adults in the community of my service.  But, I also came into a situation where I was abused both by the people with whom I had contracted to perform the service and by my direct supervisor.  I was lied to, belittled, and told my work was not worthy even though I knew it was.  I was threatened with loss of livelihood if I did not make social connections that were required of no one else in my position and threatened with loss of livelihood if I spoke with my contractual and legal representatives.  I was made promises that were never meant to be kept that resulted in material loss and discomfort.

Through all this I thought it was my duty to bear the abuse and indignities as part of my faith in the one to whom I owe my life.  In a way it was, but I didn’t do it very well.  My feelings were hurt by the treatment I received.  I spoke out against those from whom the abuse flowed.  Feeling that my treatment was unjustified I spoke to them in anger and bitterness.  I attempted to pressure these people into doing the “right thing.”  I was unsuccessful and resentment developed.

It is difficult to feel love and charity for those against whom resentment is held and those for whom there is no trust.  But I would try.  I would forgive them and consider it my duty to bear these things as mentioned above and then it would happen again and the resentment and hurt would reappear.  Each time would be worse than the last because I felt it had a cumulative effect.

It is happening again now and the cycle began to repeat itself.  Then one of the individuals in question said something to me that took a while to work its way into my soul.  I was asked if my faith in God did not instruct me to also have faith in others even when they have demonstrated faithlessness.  My immediate answer was no, it did not.  My immediate answer was that if I pick up a snake and it bites me then I am under no obligation to pick it up again.  It would be an act of foolishness to do so.  My immediate thought was that my faith in God DOES instruct me that a tree does not bear both good and bad fruit.  If I bite into a piece of fruit and find it bad then it would be insanity to pick another fruit from the same tree and bite into it thinking that it would be good this time.

Twelve Step groups teach their adherents that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different consequences.

But I prayed and meditated on the matter for quite a while afterward, and it was here that the lesson started to clarify itself.  I believe it is the lesson that was originally intended for me to learn when I was called into this place over a year ago.

I am not called to be naive.  I am not called to believe that those who have proved themselves untrustworthy time after time are suddenly going to become worthy of trust especially when they make excuses, denials, shift the blame, and generally express no regret for prior words and deeds.  But, I AM called to love them regardless.

I am called to feel compassion for those who have sinned.  I am instructed to pray for them.  I am told by the spirit to intercede on their behalf.  If they hold positions of power over me and I am abused by their words and actions, then it is still my duty to forgive them and hold no resentment towards them for their behaviors.

This is very hard, people!  Even if you do not believe in the divinity of Jesus, the one who is called Christ, the record shows that during his torture and even up to the moment of his death he forgave and interceded for those who beat, whipped, and nailed him to a tree to die.  I am not Jesus.  I try to emulate him, but fall short very often.

If he was who he said he was, then he alone of all the people in the earth before, during, and after that time had every reason to object to being humiliated, physically tortured and finally executed just for saying who he said he was.  He had every reason to exhibit his pride and dignity as the self-proclaimed Son of God, but instead, out of love, he allowed himself to be abused, defiled, and finally killed.  He went to his death interceding with God for the forgiveness of those who brought about his death.

I don’t know if I could do that, do you?  I think I am a lot closer to being able to that today than I was yesterday, though.

That is my lesson.  Like I said I am not Christ and no one is seeking to kill me.  I am called nonetheless to love and forgive those who would say things and commit actions that bring me hurt and loss of material comfort.  I don’t expect it to be easy.  It is difficult to break old habits.  However I believe it to be at least one if not the most important lesson I was called here to learn.  My sacrifices and indignities are vastly unimportant and petty compared to the sacrifice made for me.

Through all adversity, love one another.

Gryphon

If you want me to like it . . .

. . . then don’t tell me it’s good for me.

And for God’s sake don’t use the words “soy” and/or “protein” together or separately in describing it.

It was hot on Friday and I was riding the bus and having to walk long distances when I disembarked.  I was lugging a 15” laptop and a large totebag with assorted junk.  I decided to take a break at a Starbucks that had free WiFi and was in desperate need of liquid refreshment.  I thought I was going to have a coffee because after all . . .. Anyway, I asked for something cold and was all prepared to refuse “Ice Coffee” which is a sin against nature in my opinion.

Well, I got the immediate opportunity to refuse and gave my reason why.  And then said, “what else ya got?”  Before the Star Buckette could reply, I saw “smoothie” on the menu on the wall.  There was strawberry and banana and banana chocolate and banana orange mango and something else I don’t remember.  So I asked for a banana smoothie.

She said, “Oh you want one of our ‘protein’ smoothies?”  I cringed.

I said, “No.  I want a ‘banana smoothie’ and it has to be cold.”

She said something else about the drink that I didn’t quite catch, but I am positive that she used the word “soy.”  I was too hot and too tired to rise to my usual level of cantankerousness and I definitely wanted something cold and refreshing, so I didn’t chide her on the use of the words “soy”  and “protein.”  Instead, I asked her if I could sample some before I ordered a whole one only to discover that it tasted like whipped beans.  I didn’t actually say the part about the “whipped beans,” but I was thinking it.  She said that they couldn’t do just a little bit but if I didn’t like it after I bought and tried it, then she would give me a refund.

Fair enough.

While she whipped this thing up, I went over to a table and started setting up my computer.  She brought it over to me.  Very nice.  I thanked her and told her that she didn’t have to do that as I would have gladly retrieved it myself.  She said, “it was no problem” and walked away.

I was hot and dry and it was cold and wet and it was about half gone before I got a good taste of it.  It tasted like mango banana orange (which I had already told her that I didn’t want—just banana—but she said that it was the only way to get the banana if I didn’t want the chocolate banana.)  I got the banana taste.  I got the orange taste.  I am not quite sure what mango tastes like by itself or in combination with other things but I am sure it was there too.  I also got the taste of something else that was not any of the three title ingredients.

It was soy.  I know what soy tastes like and I don’t like it.  I don’t think protein has a taste of its own but just rides along in whatever the ingredient in question is.  Whenever I eat a nice rare steak I know that I am getting protein but it is the steak I taste.  And I understand that there are different types of protein so please give me a break on this, ok?

I was tasting whipped, cold beans.  It ruined the experience.  I had already drank half the concoction so it was too late to complain that I didn’t like it, so I drank the rest.  The banana taste which is all I wanted in the first place was now gone and all I could taste was citrus and beans—not my favorite combination.  I finished it quickly, which is always the best way to finish anything unappetizing, played around on the computer for a while longer and left.

Would it have tasted better if I hadn’t been told about the soy?  I still would have tasted the soy so the answer is “no,” but I wouldn’t have anticipated it and anticipation a large part of any experience.  I expected there was a good chance that I wouldn’t like it and after I inhaled the first half my expectation was sadly satisfied.  I won’t order another in the future so minimally I have the positive of learning from a bad experience.  My need for cold and wet was completed so my money wasn’t completely wasted, but it wasn’t worth seven bucks.

Now let me tell you of a related but GOOD experience I had with banana smoothies!

It was last summer and I had just started doing service for Abundant Life Ministries.  I was doing work outside and it was heavy and sweaty work.  By the end of the day my tanned and chiseled pecs were glistening with salty sweat that trickled down over my rock hard abs . . . er . . . sorry, I got carried away for a moment . . ..

Anyway I was riding the bus to and from work and one of my transfer stops was two doors down from a place called Smoothie King.  One day I walked inside and looked at the large menu on the wall.  There was a LOT of stuff on the menu most of which advertised that it was in some way good for me.  As before, I was not looking for something that would be healthy for me, I was looking for cold, wet, and TASTY.  At the bottom of the menu I saw the word “milkshake.”  That was all I needed to see and I stepped up to the counter.

I told the young woman behind the counter that I wanted a banana milkshake and she immediately told me of all the healthy ingredients that could be added to it for my physical edification.  She didn’t use the word “edification” but it was implicit.  Somewhere in the description the word “protein” came up along with several other words describing ingredients that I neither understood, remember, or could even pronounce without effort.  I think “beta something-or-other” was in there somewhere but am not quite sure.  Effort, by the way, is something that should never be expended when completing an experience with a banana milkshake.

THIS time I was less willing to be free with my taste buds than I would at a later date and I told her explicitly that I wanted nothing that was good for me.  I told her that I wanted a cold, sweet, milkshake that was heavy with the goodness of BANANA!  I told her to put NOTHING in it that was necessarily healthy for me.

My wishes were fulfilled.  If there was anything in it that was good for me other than the satisfaction I got from a wonderful, nearly sinful, banana milkshake then I was blissfully unaware of it and from start to finish of this treat I was completely enraptured.

It was wonderful.

Several times after that I stopped by Smoothie King on my way home from work and ordered a large banana milkshake.  Each time I made sure to let the little whippersnappers behind the counter know that I wanted nothing added to it that would help me live to 150.  I just wanted a good wholesome, cold, wet, All American, BANANA MILKSHAKE!!  And, By God, I got what I wanted every time!

Smoothie King makes the best banana milkshakes I ever tasted in my life.  They are thick, cold, wet and taste more like bananas than bananas.  For good measure I am going to say the word “banana” one more time in this paragraph.  BANANA!  I savored every one like it was ambrosia and was always sad when I took the last slurp.  BANANA!!  (I couldn’t resist)

Anyone from Smoothie King reading this who might wish to give me a promotional consideration can contact me by email.  A lifetime supply of banana milkshakes would be VERY cool.

And we thank you for your support.

G

Reports of My Death . . .

. . . have been greatly exagerrated.

Well now I am technically homeless.  This was discussed in two previous posts about the ultimate dangers of homelessness and in a couple of posts before those.  The technical definition of it is that though I have a roof over my head, and a bed upon which to sleep, I have no legal claim to my residence and am subject to removal without a moment’s notice or recourse if that should happen.

I am into part two of a four part series called Faith Walking where you may read about my trials up to this point.  In that series I will conclude with what I am doing at the moment and where I might end up.  All is dependent on the will of God, so I have no final answer at this point on the last subject, other than to say that he will take care of me as long as I can keep my feet in the path of his will.

I am trying to keep this blog more updated than as of late and I appreciate your patience with me as I go through life altering events.

and we thank you for your support.

G

August 1st

Today is my official moving out day.  Because it is on the weekend, I have obtained two days grace and do not have to vacate until Monday.  My bags are packed and all my laundry is just about complete.  I have a laptop so I will continue to visit here and submit posts even though I have no official residence.  Thank God for WiFi.

After I get out there I will complete what I started in  Faith Walking — Part I.

Doc is going with me–whether I want him to or not.

Say a prayer.

Gryphon

and we thank you for your support.

Dangerous Homelessness

I am going to tell you a true story and then I am going to ask you a question that was asked of me.

First the Story:

Three years ago I lived in a place far removed from where I am now.  I was 1,700 miles from anyone I knew who loved or even cared about me.  I was also a practicing alcoholic.  I was just like any other alcoholic in many respects.  My alcoholism had progressed to the point that I had become homeless, but not quite yet to the point where I was literally living in the street.  That would come later.

Homelessness is the actual condition where a person has no guaranteed roof over his/her head.  It is not to say that at any given time that they might not be actually living in a sheltered place, but that wherever they are living is subject to being taken away from them without notice.  If I am living in a Homeless Shelter, then I have not suddenly lost my status of being homeless because I am subject to being put out without notice and I have no legal claim to a dwelling.  That is the condition I found myself in at first.  Living literally in the street was to come later.

Progressing the story–I was actively drinking, and, as happened more often than I care to relate, I got into trouble and found myself in the street by way of a county jail.  It was a misdemeanor charge and I was back out on the street right after I was arraigned.

Before I walked through the jailhouse doors though I met with a substance abuse/mental health counselor.  He asked me where I was going when I left.  I told him that I had nowhere to go.  I told him that for obvious reasons I could not go back to where I had been staying, that I had no job, and I had no money.  I told him that I was going to live in the streets.  He then asked me another question that I am almost ready to ask you.

These were his words: “Do you know what the most dangerous thing about being ‘homeless’ is?”

Now, I am a pretty smart man.  I have a great natural intelligence and am extremely well educated.  I also have a large store of actual experience from which to draw.  But, I got it wrong.  It seemed like such a “no brainer” that I was shocked into a strange kind of self-awareness when he gave me the correct answer.  I gave my answer quickly because it seemed like only common sense, but like I said, it was the wrong answer.

Now the Question:

What is the most dangerous aspect of being “Homeless?”

Caveat:

I am not, right now, going to give you the answer he gave me.  I will leave the question open for 48 hours and then reveal the wisdom that the counselor passed on to me.

Think it over.  If the spirit moves you, give us your answer here in the comments section.  The only hint I will provide is in the text above.  It is not what could be considered “common sense” or even “conventional wisdom.”  The error in using the common sense approach would be similar to saying that “Hate” is the opposite of “Love” when in actuality the opposite of “Love” is “Indifference.”

There are many “dangerous” aspects to homelessness, what I am seeking here is the MOST dangerous one.  Think it over.  Let me know what your answer is.  It is not a contest and there is no shame involved if you don’t get it.

I’ll get back to you real soon.

Gryphon

Green Mountains

There is an aroma that is like no other in the world that I have experienced.

That is the smell of the earth in green hills and mountains during a rain with the sun shining.  The phenomenon itself is awe inspiring at the contradiction of precipitation while the sun is shiining, but that is easily enough explained as it is visible.

But, it is the actual smell of the steam being given off by green plants and trees baking under a warm sun that effects me more profoundly.

It cannot be found near the seashore–too much salt in the air.  It cannot be found in high and rocky mountains or high plains–no greenery.  Perhaps green river valleys sufficiently removed from the sea may compare, but I have not experienced that phenomenon.  Green mountains in a sun shower are something I have witnessed as recently as 3 minutes ago.

I fill my nose and head and lungs with the air and thank God that I live in green mountains.

gryphon