Twenty Again

There wasn’t much happening in real estate today, which I suspected it would be since we’re in the midst of Easter weekend. When visiting with some of our residents these past several days, I strongly encouraged them to stick close to home and not venture out of Cerro Gordo County, along with discouraging their friends and relatives living anywhere near those coronavirus hotspots, from coming here for Easter. In spite of it being a major Christian holy day, and somewhat of a secular holiday, there’s every good reason for us to hunker down and not think it’s excusable to carry on with yearly traditions, because during this pandemic, the health of North Iowa is far more important.

I did spend some time this morning working on my office accounting, but still don’t have it all complete. Oh well, I’ll keep pecking away at it, and likely have it wrapped up the first of the week. I would’ve had it done yesterday, but yesterday’s showings and subsequent sale was by far, at the top of my list.

Before I changed into my work clothes, I ran over to Fareway to grab a few things, and wouldn’t you know it, they were completely out of toilet paper, facial tissue, and paper towels. Since all those paper products are made in factories, I’m beginning to suspect much of it is coming from China, and if it is, then we have a bigger problem than I ever would’ve imagined. If there’s one of many positive things coming out of this pandemic, the re-tooling of our factories and relying on our own people to provide us with even the most over-looked things like paper products, would be a big step in the right direction.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had some good-paying factory jobs come available should “We the People” decide that we’ve had enough of globalization. There are too many people in this Country who’re free-loading on the Government, and I suspect if we create real jobs, and start turning the tap off on all the “freebies” people are getting, then perhaps we will all have better lives. Of course if those people who’re on entitlement can’t pass a company’s drug test, then that’s one more indication there’s something wrong with this whole picture of freely giving to those who abuse the system. Don’t get me wrong, because I believe in helping people when they’re truly need, but not giving them blank checks and saying, “Here you go.”, with no strings attached. Like they’ve said, “It’s better to teach a man to fish, than having to supply him with a fish every day.”

While at the groceteria, I ran into a dear one whom I’ve known for some time, and have come to believe she’s slightly on the clairvoyant side because of some of the things she’s mentioned over the years. She has the most piercing blue eyes, which when seeing them, causes me to wonder if it’s those eyes that give her such an ability.

After we talked about the usual stuff, she pulled me off to the side, looked both ways, and then asked, “Do you want to hear about the creepy dream I had last night?” I gave her the nod, so off she went with the recall of last night’s “journey”. She began by insisting, “Now I’m telling you just as I remember it.” Her next words were, “I found myself walking in a northerly direction on a day that wasn’t freezing, but felt all the colder because of a chilling dense fog I was immersed in. I could see the shadows of trees and houses as I walked north, and suddenly when I looked to my left, there stood a gothic revival church, and for some reason, I was drawn to it, so I turned and began walking up its many concrete steps. I stopped at the front doors and looked up at the tympanum, and there hung old swallow nests glued to what appeared to be a stone carving with figures in it. I started getting scared because I didn’t know why I was there, and the reason I was being drawn within. The wooden doors looked weathered, but when I pulled on the handle of one of them, it opened, so I walked in. In spite of it being a foggy gray day, as soon I entered, my eyes began to focus, and what I started seeing, were birds flying from high rafter to rafter. There were some broken stained glass windows, and nearly all what would’ve been considered part of a church’s furnishings were gone. It was as if it were stripped out and waiting for a wrecking ball. I walked halfway up the middle aisle and then froze, because I began hearing whispers coming from above, and when I looked up, I could see faint ghost-like figures swooping down at me. Each time one of them drew closer, I could hear all the louder plaintive whisperings, yet still couldn’t make out what they were saying, but swear I could sense a a soul-wrenching sadness in their voices. I stood there listening and watching, and for some reason, I could feel tears running down my face, and when I reached up to wipe them away, I woke up.”

She then looked straight at me with her near-florescent blue eyes and asked, “Now tell me Mr. Chodur, what do you think caused me to have a dream like that?” All I could say was, “I’m not Dr. Freud, but I’d say you either stepped into the future and was seeing something that’s going to happen, or on the other hand, this pandemic could be resurrecting some deep sub-conscious reservations you have about the spiritual health of our community, and possibly society in general.”

I was glad she shared her dream with me, in spite of giving me goosebumps while narrating, and for some reason, she seemed more relieved after spilling her guts with me. Unfortunately, when we went our separate ways, I wasn’t able to give her a good hug as I always do, but there’ll be another time.

The remainder of my day was spent doing some over-due yard work, because I had a great deal of brush in need of thinning out, along with picking up sticks that had fallen during the winter. I only planned on being out there for an hour or two, but of course, it turned into a good four before my body began screaming, “Would you stop already!” Don’t we all wish we were twenty again?

Tonight’s one-liner is: Moral codes adjust themselves to environmental conditions.

Joe Chodur

About the Author | Joe Chodur

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