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comedy

Sunday Reflections

Coffee NOVO Cafe, Daniel J Frey, Forces Film

I don’t like what I see in the mirror. Time is nobodies friend is it? You can’t hold time, you can’t slow it down or speed it up.

I’ve tried but just like water in your hands it slips away, leaves traces of itself upon your life and like a stingy child who won’t share, it taunts you into asking for more.

Every day, at the end of writing and illustrating, I go to my favorite coffee hangout NOVO Cafe here in Burbank. There I’ve met some wonderful people at the beginning of their journey with time. Me daughter joins me half the time. She’s my comedic inspiration. A starting point.

Just the other day she remarked she was concerned that some fish she saw on TV was in danger of drowning.

The political news about our president since he came to the White House has been like that fish about to drown. Some are afraid, others are applauding in anticipation that Trump will burn DC down. Perceived realities collide.

It’s a remarkable time we live in where reality for some is not reality for others. We used to be able to judge right versus wrong. Now our media segregation means we circulate in our self made frog ponds of our own social media certainties.

Truth it seems is what we tell ourselves it is.

Time it seems will let us know if this fish will drown in his own pool.

Peace

DFrey

 

Forces Film, Again Begin

The Garden

Tomato, Daniel J Frey, Forces Film

My father’s professed profession was as an accountant. Most of his years working for the Austin Co., until the day he retired.  

Back when I was a kid, as far back as I can remember, he had an extra garden at a friend’s house. This friend lived in Valley View, Ohio, and had a large piece of property. I can’t say how large but at least 30 acres or more. Well, my father was allowed to raise a garden on this property along side the owner of the properties garden, his name was Ralph, along with our minister, Rev. Tatch, and a few other people from our church for free. No rent. As best as I can figure, it was at least 2 acres in size. Do you have any idea how large that is?  Stop awhile and think about it.  

 I’ll wait . . . 

You have to comprehend this adverse reality. We were living in Northfield, Ohio in the 20th century.  There are two large grocery stores not but a half mile away. Do you have any idea the amount of food a garden of that size produces?  Well, shit, I do.  

 Why, oh why, was this man growing all this food?  

Both of my parents worked. As I said, my father was an accountant and my mother was a registered nurse working at a local hospital called Brentwood. Now listen to this.  It was not unusual for my mother to come home from working all day to find 4 to 5 bushels of corn, 3 or 4 bushels of either green beans, peas, lima beans and or tomatoes waiting for her to can or freeze. This job placed upon her, which was her duty to perform, of putting up the vegetables, would continue from July through sometime into October on a daily basis.  

Now what do you do with all this food? Why yes you store it for the winter. Imagine this.  You have canned maybe 400 quarts of tomatoes. You like canned tomatoes because now you don’t have to go to the store to pay for them. You can just go to the “Junk Room”, which was in the house and where we stored everything and take down a jar.  We had spaghetti at least once a week. Now I want you to start calculating. You should get out a pencil and paper because I will be asking you to do a math problem.  

The test begins now…

If my family has a jar of tomatoes once a week starting on the 1st of November, how many jars of tomatoes will be used by the time the new tomatoes are ready to be canned in July?

Now take that number and subtract it from those 400 jars. Now you have a number of what was left over each year of just the tomato jar count at the Frey household each year. You can do similar calculations for all the other vegetables and fruits you can think of.

I ask, is there some where in the darkest corners of psychology a paper written on the disorder of vegetable hoarding? Does the intense angry eyes of the patient in question have their photo paper clipped to the front of the file? Is my father’s face synonymous with gardening nazis?

Forces Film, Again Begin

Anger

apple, Daniel J Frey, Forces Film

Anger was my Father.  Generated, towards anybody in the way of keeping him from his garden. My father was obsessed with gardening. I don’t mean that he had a victory garden in the backyard where he grew some fresh vegetables for the table. I mean the god damn biggest garden next to having a farm you can imagine.  And yes, I mean huge.

We lived in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, called Northfield,  half way between Cleveland and Akron. The property size was about 150 feet by 150 feet so how big could the garden be? Well the backyard was 90 percent filled with a strawberry patch and a couple of tomato plants and a dwarf apple tree.

My father thought that tree was the Tree of Knowledge. He worshipped that tree.  He would spray for bugs mixing a special blend of DDT and fertilizer to both combat those damn Jap beetles and grow delicious red beauties-strawberries. Well, that damn tree never grew any apples. Yes, I mean no matter what Garden Man did they would only blossom each glorious spring and each Fall no apples!

But, one magical year what do you know? At the end of summer there were three apples on that damn tree. Not big, not small, just right. If my father could have he would have sat out by his tree every night waiting for them to ripen to perfection. So summer passes, the fruit matures and picking time is near at hand. On a fine late August morning my father walks out to his tree to see how the fruit are doing and..

   WHAT’S THIS . .

   THERE GONE!  

Someone in the night had stolen his precious fruit. It turns out that one of the boys next door, Mark, who was heavy into Led Zeppelin, the Steelers, Raquel Welch, and smoking pot, had lifted natures bounty on a munchie fit.  God imparts knowledge in mysterious ways.

Peace

DFrey

Forces Film, Again Begin