She Called for Help

9^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

One of those things about calling for help is that folks need to understand you. You and I know better than most how those calls can fall on deaf ears. So here is a story about that happening shortly after my mother’s death.

    

I was coming down Rio Hondo hill with Alan and Paul and we had made it almost all the way home when we passed the bridge for the San Jose Creek. A woman’s voice called out ‘help, help!’ and we looked down to see a middle aged dark skinned woman on the river bank.

    

She looked fine with no clear sign of distress as she stood there in the dust but I noted that she picked up some long bit of discarded rubbish and tried to use it as a cane. 

    

To my surprise Alan called back “Hello” and waved. As I was ten or eleven I couldn’t understand why he would do a thing like that given the situation.

    

“Help, help!” she called again and the old man stood there as if he didn’t understand.

    

“I think she’s said help,” I commented still confused by the situation. I had little understanding of hearing at the time and I couldn’t get it into my head that what I heard and what Alan had heard was so different.

    

With that we went down into the creek bed to find out what was wrong and the woman said that she had fallen down the slope and twisted her ankle. She lived close to the river and we quickly found her husband and helped her back up to her home.

    

As we walked away Alan commented that this had been an adventure. I was unimpressed but when I asked him why he couldn’t understand the woman he said “If it hadn’t been for you we would have just walked by,” and cries for help would have fallen on deaf ears.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal 

Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

The Ring

 

Good at Math

 

Spudly and the fire

7^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

I do not imagine I have ever told you of the fellow who I once called friend that had the nickname Potato Head. Potato was an odd one and still was one of my closest companions for twelve years of my life. I do recall his Spudly face looking to me like a lump of clay when I first met him. Then at the time all faces were as clay to me and I could only recognize people by voice.

   

Well, one of Potato’s early vices was his love for fire. I do recall one incident when I had found a pack of matches discarded for being wet that he had then torn up trying to light every one. Let me remind you that as I lived in abuse at home most of those folks who called themselves my friends were not the most considerate of people.

   

One day Potato got his hands on a lighter and took it to school. This was in the fifth grade and I was eleven. He took his lighter into the field with some other children and lit a paper bag on fire. I stomped it out and he insisted that he would simply light it again. I walked away having no way of stopping him and the three other boys he was with at the time.

   

The fire he lit fed off dry pine needles and grew to the size of a small car. I permitted myself no more than a glance back at it as I moved off. I could still see that the fire was menacing in nature.

   

I recall the children calling out “fire, fire!” and the teachers running to put it out. Then we were all called to the office and Potato told them the whole story. I was happy to be exonerated of blame but why someone would light such a fire is still beyond my reckoning.

Stay safe, Cassi

Richard Leland Neal

Shin On a Stool - Irish Proverb

 

Music Blues

19^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Among the things my mother wanted me to be able to do is play musical instruments. Why she chose the accordion for the first of these instruments is a question only she could answer. I was never any good at playing, mind, but if we did well the teacher would give us a chocolate. This was normally a small candy bar.

   

I do believe the teacher’s name was Polombo as he said “people mistake it for Colombo.” He was a large man who looked like a dark Italian, but it could be that the passing years have dulled my memory. 

   

I still have my purl white accordion and I think the key where we put our finger is still marked with a sticker. I do believe Paul said he would kill me if I ever played the thing again. Whereas I grant he was not joking I have no desire to learn the instrument. 

   

Then, as you know, my mother died and Alan told me that he felt that I didn’t have time to play the accordion any longer. Just as he told me I didn’t have time for Boy Scouts or therapy for my learning disability. The man entrusted with my care after my mother’s death couldn’t be bothered with the needs of his fair haired boy.

   

The benefit of learning an instrument was so lost to me and I see little reason to return to the practice now as time is short for me. In the way of things it is always good to know music and always good to know an instrument that someone may want to hear. The accordion was a bad choice for this, but understand that my mother wanted it to be the first of many that I would learn.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal 

On the Sole

 

Talk for Me

11^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

   

Over the last week one of the employees at my work said they knew a person who worked with a major cable network. This information came with the promise that he would talk with this person about my work as a screenwriter. You must understand here that, nice as the gesture is, this fellow had never read my work and had only known of it from my description.

   

In the world of Hollywood writers are bottom feeders until you need them, and even then everyone thinks they can do a better job. They second guess the writer and bring in new people to change the work. What finally gets to the screen is a Frankenstein concoction of ideas held together with stitches and hope.

   

Then we have the fact that every Joe and his dog thinks they’re a writer and the dog will tell you it’s the best writer in the world in barks if it could. For every one writer like I there are at least ten like Josh. You recall Josh who thought he would start a video game company? By the time he was done speaking he had a new idea and was moving on to something else.

   

Josh was a fellow who couldn’t get the job done, and when Hollywood folks come across a man like me they think he is a man like him. Even then I no blue ribbon. I’m a competent writer and nothing more. Someone said they would have a word with a person from a network for me. I have been giving no hope by this promise.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Involve Me - Native American Proverb

 

No Body No Nose

 

Quaking Over Earthquakes

18^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

One of the events of my youth where over reaction was an issue was an earthquake. I believe this was the Whittier Narrows quake that claimed eight lives on October first of 1987.

I will grant that the loss of so many in an earthquake is rare, but the likelihood that there would be another quake short to follow was low.

   

Still, when I arrived at school the next day class had been canceled and we, the children, spent the day in the playground for fear of aftershock. This precaution after I had been told by the principal that the school buildings were of a construction that was safe in these situations.

   

It was the prerogative of our teachers that the disaster was so a danger that our education could be halted. They only kept us for a half day and then sent us home, but I couldn’t understand why we had gone to school in the first place. So much of our lives we spend waiting and this bit was just another in the line.

   

They wouldn’t even let us in the school to use the restrooms or water fountains. They used water from the emergency drums. If there had been a real disaster to follow then a water shortage would have come quickly. I know all this because when I got water out of a fountain the teachers explain to me that they feared the building would fall on my head.

   

Nowhere even near to my school had the plaster even cracked, but fear gripped folks as if a monster lurked in the shadows ready to gobble them down. The wind blows, the earth moves, and be the things of the land should get on with our lives.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Sound of Beer - Cheers

 

Crab Hunting

3^rd February 2012

Dear Cassi,

   

Another of the stories I have from Camp Cherry Valley is of the for mentioned time I went crab hunting with some of the other boy scouts. These crabs would only have made eating for the most hungry of folks as they were small enough for had dozen to fit in a foam cup.

   

We had asked the scoutmaster for ice to drop down the crab holes and flush the things out but gotten none and so worked with our hands. This was a thing I was no good at as I had little knowing of crabs. I learned on my first few tries that the crabs could give up their legs to be free.

   

I recall that the largest crab a boy had stabbed with a stick to catch, and the damage had made the animal still. It was not dead as I could still see its mouth moving, but I imagine death came for the poor thing shortly as every time we put it back in the water other crabs came to try and take it away.

   

Among the other crabs there were the very small and the not so small even if they all were too small for the pot. These had to be kept apart from one another as they would fight. There was one of these who when placed in the cup of small crabs would fight with those smaller than it and cause a commotion. This one was taken out and placed in the cup with his larger brothers where the bully got his just earnings. Nature can be a real my sister but sometimes she does play fair.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal  

Fart Football

 

The Principal and His Principles

17^th February 2012

Dear Cassi,

Something of an odder story from my past is the occasion where graffiti because a large issue at my grade school. That year the school because a patchwork of reds and maroons to cover the spray-paint. I remember there was a lecture on gangues where, I believe he was a policeman, told us that in other areas the gangues had respect of the schools and that their petty scratching were on bridges and such.

   

I have to say this is true as I never saw the marking at any of my other schools. What gangue members are doing at a grade school I would have to question? I mean “Come on, sniper, let’s go hangout with Oreo at the swing set,” just doesn’t sound tuff.

   

Still, the problem existed and so did its ugly spot patch solution. On one occasion the paint had not been on the door more than a few days and one of the boys pealed some away to find clean paint underneath. We pealed more looking for any sign of spray paint but there was none to find. As it happen the new paint adhered to the black spray paint, and when we peeled off the new paint the spray paint came with it leaving the door clean.

   

We children, Potato, another boy, and I, found this amazing but the teachers were not so impressed. They called us into the office and explained to us that the Principal had spent his weekend paining the graffiti out. Then they made us clean up what little shreds of paint we had left. Somehow they didn’t notice that the door looked better after we were finished, but perhaps it was the principle of the thing.

Live sane in this world, Little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Genuinely Forgive - O. A. Battista

Finite Disappointment - Martin Luther King

Take Time to Write Letters

Okay, two short letters today. Posting letters daily is no easy task. If you go over the frequency of my posts you can see that as well as any.

The truth is that I’m torn between posting as much and posting what is good. I try to make every letter good but sometimes they are dry and all about getting something done. So, today I have not one but two short letters that are more maintenance than anything else.

Well, honest opinions welcome of whatever you think of my work :o)

16^th February 2012

Mr.(Person at my work),

It is my understanding that you have a writers group that holds meetings on grounds. I write film, live theater, and novels. Would you have room for another writer? If so, can you fill me in on what the group is like?

Thanks

S/O Richard Leland Neal  

16^th February 2012

Hay, Lisa,

On Valentine’s Day you commented that no one writes letters any more, but I have to disagree. I write letters, real paper letters, all the time, most notably to my friend Cassi who reads them whenever she feels bad. Cassi has infrequent access to email, but I write her letters so that she can have some physical object to hold that reminds her that she has a true friend.

Cassi told me that she keeps a few of my letters with her wherever she goes, and I would have to say that writing them has had a positive effect on my mental health. Real paper letters are wonderful and we should all take time to write them to those we care about.

Richard from Whittier

Surest Hindrances to the Recovery - Ellen White

Dog juice

16^th February 2012

 

Dear Cassi,

 

Among the annuals of I once had and lost to me sit a beagle by the name of lucky. When the last Boxer died my mother took us down to the pound and got us each a dog. I am not sure if all three left our household shortly or if Misty, my last dog before August, was one of the three. Paul said that he cannot recall the name of the third dog either but that we did away with all three to new owners and that Misty came later.

       

The beagle was a fine dog that my mother wanted to turn into a show dog. He was so well colored and in good health. However, as we drove home with him he started letting the contents of his guts out his mouth and made a mess of the back of my mother’s Oldsmobile. I recall putting trash over the nasty and getting dog juice on my hands.

       

The dog was squeamish and got car sick. It could never be a show dog for that reason and my mother got him gone within a week. Not that I had time to get attached to the dog. He was there and then he was gone in a short time.

       

Paul’s dog, Prince, turned out to be violent and we had to ditch him as well. He was a midsized white mutt with the look of a wolf. He bit but never drew blood. Still the dog was one I never got a liking for and he too was gone shortly.

       

In the space of a week I went from three dogs to none. I think I was still numb over old butch so I couldn’t feel much. Then, the joy I feel in playing with dogs is a thing that has grown with time and I think it would have hit me harder today.

       

They say better to have loved and lost and I have to ask if that may depend on how we lose. In the nature of our walking in the world we will see so many things. Would we have been glade to see them had then been burnt to ash or tumbled to the ground?  

Live today, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Not what We Used to be - Tim Storey

Never Mailed

I never mailed this because the issue was resolved before hand but this makes short but good reading.

7^th December 2010

Dr. S,

You recently received an email regarding me from Dr. F, and I fear she did not make the situation clear.

Dr. F suggested that I take your class, and it was my understanding that I had already been issued a permit to add.

As for the difficulty of the class, it's a 400 level class and so should be challenging. I can spend the next month learning neuroanatomy if you would be so good as to recommend a text.

I grant that my first choice was "Sleep, Dreams, and Behavior," but as that was not offered to me and the same obstacle applies, I find taking your class to be a better option than not graduating.

I'm sure that PSYC 414 is a worthwhile class.

As for the difficulties Dr. F mentioned. Transient brain damage in the Occipital lobe. After taking a class with you and then taking 305 I was able to come up with a therapy for my condition. You will find it a mild hindrance at best but nothing I will need help with.

I'm sorry for how this must have inconvenienced you and I would very much like to take your class.

Richard Leland Neal

Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

We Make Our Friends - G. K. Chesterton

Most Important Things a Father Can do - Stephen R. Covey

Ghosts of Could Have Been

23^rd January 2012

Dear Cassi,

         

How do I compare to you in that my life lies in tatters and its broken pieces are no closer to mending than they have ever been. The ghosts of could have been haunt me as wailing spirits calling for justice that they cannot have. Every effort I have ever made to right myself has been met with a hammering down and so I live at the bottom of my despair but always I clime again to receive by next helping of torment.

         

That turtle nosed freak you call an ex-husband tried to push onto me what worries he gave to you. He stabbed at me for my resistance and then told the world his transgression under my name. Still, those who have turned away from me I need none of and they can have their unions away from me.

         

I learned a lot about lies from that thing that is less than human and so I know lies when I see them. What we can do when we are lied to is still a problem. I was lied to by my family until I stopped speaking to them, and I was lied to by my last work until they fired me. They called it a layoff but I’m not splitting hairs.

         

Then, if there is one thing folks tell me it is that I am incredibly strong to have lived through so much and come out so well. If they would call me strong for what I have endured your strength can be counted as nothing less than Herculean for your own trials.

         

They say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and you and I know the sadness of this lie so well. Still, I think there is hope for both of us, Cassi, life is a strange thing that wriggles and squirms until it ceases to be.

Stay safe, little sister

Richard Leland Neal  

Also updating today!

Random Street Theater a Comic

http://randomstreet.blogspot.com/

Well Done - Benjamin Franklin

Heavy Head

22^nd January 2012

Dear Cassi,

I’m sick and delirious but my teachers tell me I’m doing well in their classes. This is no surprise to me as I have come accustomed to working in misery. It has always been my experience that when one feels bad they should just keep doing what they can. So long as progress continues the job will get done. It works for school but not for life. Some times in life we have problems we just can’t work through.

   

In any case, I’ve done my homework for the week and should start on the next week’s assignments but I just need to think of something other than psychology for a few hours. Then, recalling the other dismal times of my life is probably not the most relaxing thing I can do this evening.

   

As insomnia has always been a part of my life so have the feelings of exhaustion and a poor rate of bodily repair. When I was a young boy I would hang my head because of its weight. This gave me the look of perpetual sadness that all ignored and caused me to forever be casting my eyes at the ground.

   

Often was the day I had to walk carefully as not to upset the balance of my brain and in fast movements cause a great pain in my head. As a child I felt a prisoner in my body, as an adolescent I felt it was a numb shell, and now a crushing weight. Never have I felt right in my skin.

Feel better than I, little sister

Richard Leland Neal

Unevenness of the Floor - Malaysian Proverb

Funny Story

This was an entry into a contest to become a TV programmer for six months. I didn’t win but you should get a smile out of this story.

13^th March 2011

First, I will be so nervous my first day at Current that I miss my off ramp and get lost on the way to the studio.

Then I will get a call from Current asking me where I am, and I will answer it being too nervous to know better.

Being distracted from the road I will be killed by an oncoming truck and Current will televise my funeral causing everyone who knew me to lie and say they thought I would have done great things.

I will then return to the studio as a vengeful spirit creeping out writers for the rest of eternity.

Work history

I’m a Security Officer or at least I was until I lost my job early in 2011. I started in the world of security in 1998 getting my first job two weeks before graduating from high school. I’ve been in security ever since but dabbled in writing for the last few years. In addition I publish a webcomic and put out videos on YouTube. I will be graduating with a BA in Psychology shortly.

Why should you choose me?

I earned an A plus in screenwriting, but I’m not a film student. My training in Psychology gives me greater insight into the workings of the human mind. I have training in live performance witch gives me experience with script analysis and working with actors. 

Tomorrow Will be Today - Patty Satjapot

Teach Eternity - Henry Adams