Goose Yourself

Casting Off

noreply@blogger.com (Goose) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 18:48:00 +0000

By the time they had finished loading up the boat, dawn had arrived. The sun was beginning to slide into view, and the light's reflection off the water was distracting, almost blinding. A gentle breeze tickled their faces. The air was calm, and for that Jim was thankful, most of all for Susan's sake. He had been out on his boat alone a lot since last December, more than he'd ever been in recent years. He felt like a kid again when he was off the shore. Susan, however, did not have her sea legs, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get sick.

"You didn't forget anything, did you Jimmy?" Susan asked, in that maternal tone.

"No, mom." Jim smiled. She still called him Jimmy. Even now that he was in his thirties, already balding, and all his boyhood behind him. He knew why he would always be Jimmy, though. "You sure you're ready?" He asked, looking at her worriedly as she surveyed the ocean.

"I'm fine, dear. Help your poor old mother get on this thing," She said dismissively, rejecting his escape route and then offered out her hand. He held it and supported her as she stepped inside of the little boat, balancing herself first, and then settling down upon one of the wooden benches. Jim gave the boat a little shove and then climbed into it himself, sitting in front of the motor as his mother watched him admiringly. Minutes later, the tide swept them out to sea. Once they were far enough, Jim started the engine and begin to steer them with its rudder as the rotor whirred through the water. Jim used to come out here all the time with his father, and he new exactly where he wanted to go. It took them nearly half an hour to get there, but he did not mind.

"So, how are things at work, Jimmy?" Susan asked, her hands bracing the sides of the boat to keep her from falling.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jim replied, looking toward the east. "I just want to go fishing." That was what Jim and his father had always done. They would forget about their worries, their troubles were left on the shore. Saturdays were spent on the boat, in the middle of the ocean, fishing.

What's in a name?

noreply@blogger.com (Goose) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 23:39:00 +0000

My name is John, its a rather plain name, but I rather like it. I didn't get it because its a family name, or because its a biblical name. I wasn't named for my father, any uncles, or grandparents before me, but for my godfather.

My mother told me once that she was hoping for a girl (but quickly assured me that she wanted all her children to be girls). She even had a name picked out for me: Melissa. When the doctor told them their second child would be another boy, they had picked the name Stephen for me. They also picked godparents for me: My father's best friend and my mother's adult niece. John and Debbie.

John, as I understand it, was a pretty cool guy. He and my father somewhat grew up together, or at least, knew each other for a period of time growing up. But my father, so far as I know, did not take the same risks as John. John liked to ride his motorcycle, probably very fast, and he was also quite handy. My father is an electrician, and has been for nearly thirty years. And John used to work with him.

The biggest risk John took was not wearing his helmet while riding his motorcycle. Well, one day, while riding his motorcycle, John crashed into the back of a van. Its very unfortunate that this happened to him, because he died on that day, and I would never get to know him personally. I simply carry his name in honor of my father's good friend who died tragically, too young.

I don't really actually think about this story too much, but when I do, I notice that there are some pretty funny coincidences in my life. I am personally a person who struggles with the beliefs and ideas that I was raised on, a story for another day perhaps. But I do believe in John. I believe he's acting like a guardian angel to me. I believe he's trying to make sure I don't make the same mistakes he does.

Why do I believe this? Because, to this day, I still never learned how to ride a bike.

Direction!

noreply@blogger.com (Goose) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 06:48:00 +0000

So, I have finally found myself a direction. Enough of the serious posts and the personal posts and the crap.

Welcome to Goose Yourself, the blog with a story to tell. A random story. As often as possible. Involving something random. Besides just the story, that is.