by “Tackle Box” Billy Kelley

Xmas Card

Hey folks. How’s winter treating you so far? Actually, as of this writing winter hasn’t technically started. I’m writing this as the holiday season approaches and you are reading this after the holidays have passed. So this is my Xmas card, so to speak. Maybe I should have written it last month, but I figure the messages will always be relevant.

Now, I got two things I’d like to write about: thanks and wishes. And I got a lot of thanking to do.

Number one: I can see. I’m happy I got all my senses working. Fuck, after my goddamn life, I’m happy to be alive. I don’t know who to thank for that miracle, but I sure do appreciate it. Eight or nine months ago I was writing my own last will and testament. Premature, thankfully, but boy did it cause me to think.

And I’m real grateful for all the goodness in the world. Even though it’s hard to spot sometimes (’specially in these days of Trump and LePage), I still see a lot of individual goodness. Folks do kind of stand up and be counted when faced with difficulties.

But I’m mostly grateful for something that makes me think wishes can come true: I got a swell opportunity to teach someone to fish! I relish the opportunity to show somebody the joy of casting a line into a gently rolling body of water, and maybe getting a tug, or maybe not — beside the point. It’s just the sheer enjoyment of the experience of fishing that grabs you. Before, it was usually me and a gal, but this time it’ll be me and a family: mom, dad, child. I can’t wait!

OK, now on to the wishes. Winters in Tahiti? Box seats in any sports venue I choose? An invitation to the Playboy Mansion in Chi-town? I don’t think so.

How about wishing for something as wonderful and impossible as ending disease or world hunger? Or some way of ending mankind’s incessant scramble for wealth and possessiveness beyond imagination? No, I won’t wish for impossibilities this time around.

The biggest of all my wishes would be the return of our beautiful harbor. You know, the way things were in the olden days. I don’t want to go on and on too awful much, but please allow an old guy to reminisce for a wee bit.

I do so much wish you younger folks could have seen the harbor in days of yore. Lines of fishing boats moving in and out, laden with fish — so many they almost needed a flag person, or at least a set of stoplights. Christ, fish factories so damn busy I once thought of opening another temp-employment office and a daycare, to boot. Hell, I worked in a joint doin’ urchins at breakfast, dogfish at lunch, shrimp after supper, and lobster and crabs in the in-betweens! Can you imagine? Oh, what a time we had. The trucks and even trains — boy, oh boy!

This is not some kind of political manifesto, but goddammit, I sure wish LePage and Trump could somehow acquire a more liberal attitude toward certain things. In my case, opioid-addiction treatment. Perhaps we could end up with a much more civilized civilization than we got now. We sure can’t do no worse, can we? I guess we could even be grateful in a way — we’ve hit the bottom of the barrel, so the only way to go is up! Please think carefully before you vote, will you folks?

And now comes my last Christmas wish, a thing I’ve been hoping for a long time — to no avail, sadly. It’s something most folks don’t seem to take too seriously, though they really should — unless they got good attorneys and an easy conscience. It’s so simple: for fuck-sakes, please shovel your sidewalks!

The other day I’m walking down the street. Sure enough, an elderly lady — bang! Down she went. There was me and another lady present, but the other lady was busy assisting me trying to stay upright! And this while we’re walking in front of the house of a person who’d just fallen down himself the day before, and across the street from the police substation. They’re supposed to be enforcing the law, which says walks are to be clear 24 hours after the storm. Too bad nobody obeys. And too bad that, besides us poor pedestrians, nobody could give a sweet fuck.

Please, you guys (you know who you are), have a bit of compassion for people who have no choice but to traverse these sidewalks. It’s really such a simple thing. Can’t shovel? Toss some sand down, or this stuff called calcium chloride. Boy, I’ve heard so many excuses: “Oh, the landlord,” or “Oh, the tenants.” Tell that to the little old lady laying flat on her back after sliding on the ice. Please, you fuckers, get with the program.

Well, I don’t wish to leave you on that ominous note. I still have a lot to discuss with you guys, and hopefully, “the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise,” I’ll be saying it. Thank you for accepting my wishes and gratitude into your hearts and minds. You gave me a very merry Christmas. And I promise my timing will be better next season.