A Final Thought on Doorways

or the Odd Machinations of the Writer’s Mind

Another month is in the books. May was about doors and doorways, the literal and the symbolic. We all encounter doors throughout life. We pass through some and we are denied passage through others. It feels as if the past few months have had more than their fair share of doors. I’m going to end the month with an odd instance concerning my relationship with doors.

I have a fear of knocking on doors. I’m afraid of ringing doorbells too. Why, you ask? I don’t have clue. I don’t have any bad experiences or weird memories (my only explanation is that I’m an odd duck of sorts). I just don’t like knocking on doors, and here is on such experience to give you context.

#515 (#62-editj20.115)
“#515”

I’m at my best friend’s house. I’m standing at the back door. The back door is open so there is only the screen door, the kind where the top half of the door can be either screen or glass depending on what season it is. It’s summer so the screen is in the door. My friend and his wife are expecting me. I’m standing there looking through the screen into their house (that’s a creepy kind of sentence). I can hear the TV in the basement. And me? I don’t ring the bell. I knock so quietly I know the sound won’t be heard over the TV. I keep doing this, knocking quietly. My friend’s wife comes walking through the kitchen and sees me. I act as if I just walked up and quickly ring the bell. She says, “Wow, perfect timing.” I agree because telling her I’ve been outside knocking for over a minute would put me in the running for the mayor of Crazy Town.

What’s the moral of the story (beyond now knowing that I’m a bit odd)?  It’s not the fear as much as it is how I deal with it that I want to share. The fear of knocking on doors has never left, but I deal with it by texting people when I arrive. No more knocking on doors when all I need to do is send a text. So, what’s the moral? If you can’t through then try a window (or maybe a text).

-K-

The Dilemma of Locked Doors

or A Rambling Metaphor

Ever bust your ass to get to a door only to find it locked? Ever find out that the key you thought would open a door isn’t the right one? I’m speaking about doors as metaphors, but some doors just can’t be opened.

We hustle and grind only to find doors locked because of who we are or what we’ve done. Keys to these doors are given to a select few. If you aren’t the right kind of person with the correct opinions no keys will be given to you. The requirements for being the right kind of person and the list of correct opinions are conveniently listed on the inside of the door. There are also doors that don’t open with the keys we’ve struggled so hard to earn. Those who guard the doors can change the requirements for the right kind of person and the list of correct opinions one must have at will by changing the locks. This leaves us with useless keys.

Second Floor Door (#157-edit)

“Second Floor Door”

Life presents us with numerous doors. We can pass through most of them with hard work. But some doors remain locked no matter how hard we work because we aren’t the right kind of person or we have incorrect opinions according those who guard the doors. So what’s a person to do? I’ve found it’s useless to try to be the right kind of person or to change opinions (unfortunately I found this out after spending way too much time trying to be the right kind of person and changing my opinions). I suggest that we kook for the doors that open for the odd, the outcasts, the rounders, and the ramblers.

-K-

Blues at Your Door: The Mix Tape

1. “Back Door Man”–Howlin’ Wolf

2. “Don’t Answer the Door”–B.B. King

3. “Next Door Neighbor Blues”–Gary Clark

4. “Howlin’ at Your Door” –Fiona Boyes

5. “Don’t Turn Me From Your Door”– John Lee Hooker

Ivy and Iviry #4 (P7000-editj19.142)
“Ivy & Ivriy Club”

6. “Knockin’ at Your Door”–Bobby Rush

7. “Right Next Door”–Robert Cray

8. “The Hearse is Backed Up to the Door”–Lightnin’ Hopkins

9. “Backdoor Love Affair”–ZZ Top

10. “Back Door Man”–Willie Dixon

-K-

Some Thoughts on Doorways

The Physical and the Metaphor

Grand entrances and quiet exits. We arrive and we depart through a variety of doors, both the physical and the metaphorical. There is the thrill of walking through a doorway for the first time, and there is the relief of walking through a doorway for the last time. Doorways are a part of our lives.

Bus Stop Doors (Optio-edit)
“Bus Stop Doors”

Life is full of doors. Some doors have welcome signs while others tell us to keep out. There are doors that are closed to you due to who you are or what you’ve done. There are doors opened for you because of who you know. There are doors that open to empty apartments at 3:00 in the morning and doors to cold doctors’ offices. There are also doors to family homes you can always walk through without knocking and doors to friends’ apartments that will gladly open for you at 3:00 in the morning (sometimes with the disapproving frown of a spouse). Some of these doors are real to the touch an others are ideas.

Whether they are physical doors or doors as metaphor we pass through many of them in our lives. This month is about those doors, and more importantly, what is beyond those doorways.

-K-

Gambling as Wish

Big Hopes with Small Bets

Have you ever placed a wager or purchased a scratch off?  What would you do if you won a tidy sum of money?  Do people gamble with hopes of big spending or maybe just paying the rent? Do they gamble to make life a little more interesting or maybe a little more bearable? A wager here and there is a wish, but what is that wish for?

I spent more nights than I can recollect playing euchre during my younger days. There were no high stakes games back then. I was no Matt Damon at the card table and there were no Tony KGBs ruining peoples’ lives (yes I know Rounders is a poker movie but I don’t know of any movies about euchre players). We wagered small amounts, five dollars here and ten dollars there. Sometimes we played for booze. I think the most I ever one in one night was a hundred dollars and a bottle of Southern Comfort on another occasion or few. We gambled to make the game a little more interesting, to justify the smack talk and validate the bragging rights. The gambling was part of the competitive spirit, a wish to make the evening more interesting than what it was.

Hole Card #1 (P7000-editj24.50)
“Hole Card”

Fast forward a couple decades (maybe a little more than two but not yet three) and I’m pondering why people place wagers, especially if it’s not to make things more interesting? Two moments come to mind. The first occurred one morning on my way to work several years back. I stopped off at a local quick mart to buy an energy drink (it had been one of those kinds of previous nights) when I noticed the customer in front of me purchasing a couple of scratch off lottery tickets. He was behind the wheel of his truck scratching them as I walked to my car. Was he hoping that this would be the day he could tell his boss to piss off because he hit the lotto? The second occurred a few years ago when I noticed a coworker’s purchase at the end of his shift. We both worked midnights at a big box retail store, I didn’t know much about him except his name. He would buy the same four items every morning at the end of his shift: a tall boy of beer, a couple donuts, a can of cat food, and some scratchers. They were practical purchases for somebody who gets off work at 8:30 in the morning (if your 5:00 p.m. is 8:30 a.m. you understand). Eight hours of being underpaid and overworked is enough to wish for some winning numbers while knocking back a cold brew. I look back and wonder if scratching those tickets was akin to rubbing some sort of genie’s lamp, hoping the right numbers would appear and make wishes come true.

There are people who will argue that gambling is more than wishful thinking. They will argue that there is a level of math and science involved. I won’t disagree with those people. I’ve spent quite some time analyzing stats and examining horses at the track trying to work the best percentage.  I also think that sometimes a wager is nothing more than a wish. It is as wish to have enough money to buy something you wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. Maybe it is a wish to get out from behind and maybe even get a little bit ahead. Sometimes it’s just a wish, a hope, that our lives were a little more interesting.

-K-

Authors on Gambling

A Penny Worth of Wagering Wisdom

• “Here the nerves may stand on end and scream to themselves, but a tranquility as from heaven is only interrupted by the click of chips. The higher the stakes, the more quiet the scene.” -Stephen Crane-

• “This was my first lesson about gambling: if you see somebody winning all the time, he isn’t gambling, he’s cheating.” -Malcolm X-

• “The gambling known as business looks with austere disfavour upon the business known as gambling.” -Ambrose Bierce-

The Finish Line (P60-edit)
“The Finish”

• “The action is everything, more consuming than sex, more immediate than politics; more important always than the acquisition of money, which is never, for the gambler, the true point of the exercise.” -Joan Didion-

• “One should always play fairly when one has the winning cards.” -Oscar Wilde-

-K-

Marking Time

With Cigarettes and Beer

How do you mark time? I’m not referring to time in the sense of major life achievements such as births, deaths, and graduations. I’m asking how you mark time during a day, an evening, or possibly a weekend? Is time marked by books read or shows binge watched? Is time marked by errands ticked off on a Saturday to do list? I’ve marked the passing of time by all of the above and by other means too. Marking time by cigarettes snubbed out in an ashtray (this is when you could still smoke in bars) and a row of empty beer bottles was common practice for me at one time.

“Cigarettes and Beer”

I still drink my share of beer and smoke a cigar on occasion, but I don’t while away my time at bars like I used to. I look back to those afternoons and evenings at the local bar and can’t help but think about how that time was spent. Was it time well spent or was it time wasted? At first glance I could easily say it was wasted time and that I could have invested my time in something more productive. But a second, closer look reveals that I would not have memories of listening to my favorite songs on the jukebox, playing games of darts, and intense conversations with friends (that often included copious notes written on napkins) if I did not spend time at that local bar. It’s easy to get hung up on how we could have better spent our time when maybe we should try to truly enjoy what our time bought.

We may look back at how we spent our time and wonder if watching TV shows, reading books, ticking off to do lists, or knocking back beers was worth it. Time spent isn’t necessarily time gone. Before we think that time was misspent let’s take a moment to see what it bought, because good memories are investments that will always pay out sound dividends.

-K-

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