Archives for October 2025

Driveway Moment

October 5, 2025 By admin

I’m sitting in the car that is parked in my driveway because I don’t want to go inside my house – at least not yet. Because when I walk through that door I have to be an adult who worries about my spouse (who thinks I take our marriage for granted), about my grown children (who won’t leave home), and about my parents (who may soon need to go into a home), and about planning for retirement (a train that has long since left the station).

Driving home from work I was able to find respite from all these wonderful topics, but now that I’m in the driveway, the only thing between me and the boogey man is the sanctity of my car. It may be old and have over 150,000 miles on it, but the seats still smell leathery and I am comfortable behind the wheel. I know everything about this car. The new tires on the back, each of the disc brake rotors I’ve had replaced, the new radiator hoses, it’s all documented in my mind. Really, when I think about it, I realize I have replaced 50-60% of the car by now. But the sound system is still A-1 so I can listen to some soothing classical music while working up the courage to leave the comfort of my “cabin.” Might as well put the seat in the reclining position to see if that will lessen the throbbing sensation in my frontal lobe. That’s working. I can already feel my heart rate slowing down, my hands have stopped clenching, and the damp brow is drying off.

I feel transported to a better place – a place where no demands are made of me. When I’m hungry, food appears. When I’m drowsy, a soft bed is there for me. Everyone speaks softly and we are gentle with one another. The sense is that everyone is solicitous without verging on obsequious. This is good – very good.

A loud rapping noise on my window shatters the reverie into a thousand tiny pieces. My son is staring at me through the fogged up window and mouthing some words. I’m confused – I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me. He makes a motion that I should lower the window, and I comply.

“Can you move your car so I can get mine out?”

No hello. No how are you. Doesn’t ask if I’m okay. Just stands there looking idiotic wearing a backward ballcap, waiting for me to move on, so that he can move on.

Fine. Until tomorrow then. This driveway moment is over.

(From the Best of BoomSpeak, 2017)

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His newest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon. But that’s not all. You can also purchase the Best of BoomSpeak on Amazon.

Long Distance Dedication

October 5, 2025 By admin

“I can’t believe you put me up to this, a getaway driver for your revenge killing,” lamented Benny to his long time, but troubled friend, Rico.

“The ten grand I fronted kept you out of jail. You owe me,” rasped Rico, wearing a sneer accented by a curled upper lip.

Benny turned on the radio in his 2002 Cherry Red, Ford Mustang, and knobbed through to an oldies station that was featuring Casey Kasem’s Top 40 Countdown, the 80’s. The song “Love is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar was playing.

“Turn that crap off,” snarled Rico while loading a bullet into his revolver.

Benny glanced over, “you’re loading just one bullet?”

“One is all I need,” Rico barked, pointing the gun at the stereo.

“And now, it’s time for our long-distance dedication…” came Casey’s voice over the airwaves.

“Let’s just listen to this, and then I promise, I’ll turn it off,” pleaded Benny. Rico relented with a roll of his eyes.

“This letter is from Eunice from Los Angeles, to her ex-boyfriend, in Flagstaff, Arizona whom she affectionately refers to as Heartthrob.”

“Heartthrob…” giggled Benny.

“Eunice writes, Dear Casey, Heartthrob and I had a good thing, and I felt he was the one until I made the mistake of never introducing him to my cousin Carmine, whom he caught dancing with me at a party. Rico was jealous with rage and stormed off, vowing to get revenge.”

Casey’s narration had Rico sniffling and shielding his face from Benny as he loosened his grip on his gun.

“I think of Heartthrob every day, and I dream of reuniting with him. Casey, can you please play “Baby Come Back” by Player? I need him to know I was wrong, and I just can’t live without him. Well, Eunice, here’s your long-distance dedication.”

The song started playing, and Rico was wiping away tears from with his sleeve.

“Take me to LA. I’m getting Eunice back,” Rico commanded as the song ended.

“Good call. Aren’t you glad we heard the long-distance dedication?” Benny sang.

Rico didn’t answer, just peered out the passenger window at the gray skies that matched his mood. The countdown rolled on as Rico eye balled Benny to shut off the radio, only to be replied to with a comical laugh. Rico gritted his teeth, pointed the gun at the stereo, and pulled the trigger.

Read more by Jon Moray at moraywrites.com

New Time Zone

October 5, 2025 By admin

Moving east after decades on Central Time, we adjust to late sunsets, to falling asleep in the second inning when our team plays in L.A. or Seattle. (First pitch at 10:10 p.m.!) Our body clocks have been slow to synchronize with the turn of the globe. How can I be hungry already? Is half the day really gone? We’re Midwesterners born and bred. Retiring to Eastern Time continues to be a small but formidable adventure.

After all, we’re in a new zone in other ways. A new town in a new state. New drivers’ licenses and bank accounts. Have to find a new plumber, a new barber, have to map routes for walking and biking. How far to the grocery store? The ice cream shop? Neighborhood pub? What’s the local newspaper called?

Me time, down time. On vacations, we learned of “island time.” I can find among my shelves of vinyl a few different renditions of “Tulsa Time.” Indeed, lots of songs on those LPs have “time” in their titles. Pink Floyd’s “Time,” obviously, and Todd Rundgren’s “A Long Time, A Long Way to Go” (particularly apt for us), plus “Who Knows Where the Time Goes” by Judy Collins, “Time Out of Mind” by Steely Dan, Neil Young’s “Comes a Time.” It would take some time to list ‘em all.

As the days ticked down to our retirement, Sharon and I purged, gave away books to our students—Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, Edna O’Brien’s Time and Tide, Jack Finney’s Time and Again—donated furniture and clothes and dishes and tools. We jettisoned, cleaned out, cleared off. We’d read all about döstädning, Swedish death-cleaning, but we seemed to require a livelier, more spirited term. What’s the Swedish for “lifting,” for an almost physical sense of airiness, a higher zone (or ozone) of the spirit?

We’re lighter in this new light, retirement itself a new time zone perhaps, not so much starting over as resetting the clocks of both body and soul. On some days we experience a pleasant, nearly timeless free-floating, accepting the new in whatever way it might manifest itself. Other days, we set out to find it. The magnetic Scrabble letters on our fridge spell out the idea: “What shall we do today?” We have time, new time, for anything.

Recently retired and relocated, James Scruton reads and writes and hikes and bikes, as the mood strikes him. He takes his time.