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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
May 19, 2019
Previously unpublished fiction.
© 2019 by Bud Grossmann
All Rights Reserved.


Hand Truck Between a Rock and a Soft Place (2019)
  Hand Truck Between a
Rock and a Soft Place (2019)

© 2019 by Bud Grossmann



SATURDAY REPORT

Lots of yard sales in and around Fjord yesterday and today. Missed the Friday sales, as you know, on account of appointments in Ninian and Baraboo. Today C. and I spent a total of eight dollars and fifty cents on two little gardening trowels, a brass duck nearly the size of a feathered duck, and a 1965 Life Magazine page sexistly advertising the Ford Mustang. Life was just one diaper after another until Sarah got her new Mustang..., the ad copy begins. And you should see Sarah! Oh, my! Thatís not what the ad says, thatís what I say.

Received tours of two garages beyond the garage sales, one with a 1955 unrestored Packard (not driven since 1976, the owner said, but 95% complete), and another with a restored but unmodified 1924 Dodge. I was interested in the Dodge because my dad recently showed me two photographs taken in 1942 of him and his father with a big buck deer, deceased, roped to the fender of the Fischer familyís 1925 Dodge.

Received introductions today to no fewer than three dogs: a skittish, slender, tall, white-booted, white-chested, black border collie-mix named Birch, a sweet but nevertheless by all appearances a pit bull, named Louie; and an enormous, energetic, brown, curly, something-oodle named Riley. At one sale we met a young child named Galen, at another a child named Gracelyn. Celeste, I should say, was super sociable today.

Late in the afternoon we visited Dad and Cousin Barry at the farm. East of the old hen house, beside the big silver maple, Dad had dug out of the ground a rounded, protruding rock, weighing, I figure, a hundred and fifty pounds. Dad had often injured his lawn tractorís mowing blades on this particular stone. He had levered it out of its hole in the soft soil and had devised a plan for moving it a hundred yards across the mostly grassy way to the rock pile southeast of the barn but had not yet completed the task. I came up with an alternate plan and promptly broke a wheel off Dadís light-duty hand truck. If I can find out the rated capacity of the hand truck, I will be able to offer you a better estimate of the rockís weight. Or I might calculate the weight in hernia pain.

If I think of more to tell you, or pictures to show, I will let you know.

Sleep well.

Love, Dave


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This page was published Sun, May 19, 2019, 12:10AM CDT.

© 2019 by Bud Grossmann