Bubbling Up To Our Brim

        A short while back in time, da harv was getting gas at a neighborhood station—the same one I purchase my lottery (escape) tickets at… There I was, pumping gasoline into my 2002 Ford Expedition. I had completed my purchase of twenty dollars’ worth of what would most likely be the winning numbers that would wondrously change my life forever.
        Known in my biblical trade as “my cup runneth over”, please! I was praying simultaneously while placing the ten tickets in my special hiding place behind my special “Get Smart” hidden dashboard compartment. I’m the only one having any idea of how to break into my secret hiding place. If any of you out there in “TV-land” have a picture of Don Adams hiding his special directive order from “The Chief”, please pass it along to me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember the entry code for the dashboard. The bottom line for those who care about the betterment of da harv—not to worry, it will come back to me. It always does…


…In any event, I was standing there trying to figure out how to avoid this guy who had been sleeping alongside the entry door to the bodega portion of the station—it’s the place where I always buy my lottery tickets. If this guy doesn’t change his sleeping habits, I’ll have to find a different place to shop for my lottery tickets. I suppose I can manage the inconvenience. After all, living on the street can’t really be that sweet.

A leaflet of this or that to share with who or whom…
Moonglow without a shine
There we were
A guy with a Rolls Royce
Comes driving up
With top down and glowing finish
He just had to find someone
To tell his good tidings to
It had to be me I guess
There I stood awaiting his word
He told of how he dreamed hard, as a younger man, of this white convertible
With top down, he began
I just had to, he said
He brimmed with joy
He spoke of the past
How he made a vow
Thirty years since the military had gone by
His joy was real
When his “kid” dreams came true
Then driving away
Get yours now if you can
He saluted me
What fellow veterans sometimes do


On a hillside
In Korea, 1953

We gathered around
Making believe about the things
We were going to do
When we got back to our hometown
Some did, some didn’t make it
It was Christmastime
Every expression imaginable
Did abound
A buddy turned to me
It wasn’t my time to act the clown
He asked
What was the best
Your parents…
Gave to you
When you were a little guy
In your hometown
All became quiet, very quiet
While waiting for me to speak
I wanted to talk to Santa
Complaining to my Mother
She knew I couldn’t write
But I could speak
Father with his big smile allowed
What would you ask for
I want a very big car
That I can drive myself!


        My older sister was the one who got the assignment to take me to the department store’s toy department and sit on Santa’s lap. And I relayed the story to the guys, it got a great laugh when I told my buddies how pissed off I got when discovering I wasn’t going to have Santa all to myself. (I think they gave me a toy machine gun that made this horrible rat-tat-tat sound that I awakened the household with every morning until, somehow, it disappeared from the apartment we lived in.


My first car:
1955 Ford convertible…
I’m proud to say I could drive it myself
Around town
That’s exactly the same color as the car
My mom and dad gave me
$500 bucks to put down



        A new day and a new time, yet, there remain many like me who find moments to think back to—another time when they craved a certain toy to play with. When I traveled to a department store’s toy department with my sister, my favorite toy was a set of Lionel Trains. I would look at them and she, almost ceremoniously, pronounced: “We can’t afford it”.
        Well, last week, believe it or not, this kid—now eighty-nine years of age—didn’t have his ninety-five-year-old sister along for the ride. I saw it, I grabbed it. Without the approval of anyone telling me what I could or could not afford, there I stood in line at Costco, paying sixty-four bucks for my own set of Lionel Trains. The picture of me which follows resembles me holding tightly to my “Choo Choo” train set.
Obviously filled up to the brim!!!


Too early for Christmas…
Not for this “kid” to abide by
Get your Rolls Royce now
Don’t wait for the pleasure you deserve
Mine happened to be a choo-choo train
What’s yours?


Harvey Kalmenson

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