Around the Kitchen Table: Short Stories

By Charles Mohl

This book is a collection of short stories that can be told when families gather for special occasions, like holidays and anniversaries. These are personal memoirs that can give us learnings and lessons in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984563613

Charles Mohl

My wife and I raised four boys, Started golf and piano at seven under dad’s training, high school State champion in golf. college our letters in golf and basketball (walk on) Graduated with honors Albion College 1952. Served two years Army During Korean War but assigned to the NATO command in Germany Until back to law school- graduated 1957 and admitted to Michigan bar 1957. Practice included Ins. Co trial and settlement work, built over 50 FHA approved houses, general commercial clients. Also general real estate and Probate work. Retired at 62 with some consulting for fellow attorney.

Book preview

Chapter One

ODE TO AGING

ACTUALLY, A PILE OF 123 QUARTERS

Harken to the muse on aging! Or maybe I’m really musing on failing, slipping, confusing, or in current parlance, just ruminating over what I can recall about these few senior moments. Wow! Actually, this really isn’t amusing, funny, or whatever to this writer or to any reader to whom these presents may greet one’s eyes (that’s sort of corny, age-old legalese; however, in keeping with the lesson of this piece, one wonders that I can remember some of those worn-out old phrases). Okay, moving right along. Anon.

The fun began one sunny morning while we were driving our new Mazda (Baby) on the way to our city rec center to swim and exercise. At our turn at the golf club estate sign, the roadway from the entrance to the golf club was under construction (unbeknownst to us from the previous day), torn up, and a bit messy. In the course of sloshing through this bumpy, wet clay encounter (it has been raining earlier), the polished Baby acquired a nasty coating of mud/clay. Oh, curses!

Having completed our activities at the rec center, we wisely returned home through a more adaptable route. Patty, fussing over the mud-splattered vehicle, proudly announced that she would (cold as it was outside) get the hose out and do a job on her baby (meaning the car, not me, although I was the errant driver that fateful morning). As gallantry is not dead, I rose valiantly to the occasion and insisted I would right this wrong but begged for time later in the day until I finished my business.

I had several more pressing matters to attend to before seeking out the new auto wash. Both Patty and her unhappy Baby could easily wait. The alleged pressing matters alluded to involve some personal business. I had planned to write some checks (the receipt which often seem to please my most loving creditors) and send a few more to our favored charities. This latter group does often become a bit of a problem.

Once you favor more than one, and your name gets on the frequently sold list, you become, so they think, fair game to all. Then the phone frequently rings far more often than one wishes to deal with. Hell, there must be fifty thousand certified tax-deductible entities that are most pleased to relieve you of whatever proportion of your assets you might happily (or sometimes grudgingly) part with. I used to look forward to a daily visit to the mailbox (I even welcomed a bill or two). Now I’m flooded with eight to ten requests a day. Hell, everything from Save the Spotted Owl! to the Podunk Township Deputies Retirement Fund and so on. You know the drill, you’ve seen the movie.

I also needed to transfer some retirement funds to facilitate the accomplishment of the aforesaid offerings. And I further needed some stamps to adorn the envelopes guarding the checks. Parenthetically, Patty does all her business via the magic of the Internet. I keep arguing that one of these days, the genius of the hackers/wiki-thieves will put her in the realm of wiki-eakes. I do business in an old-fashioned way. I just love signing my name and licking those envelopes. Okay, the story is getting a bit bogged down. Let’s move on. Stay focused, man!

My scroungy-looking clothes seemed a bit shoddy for my next several undertakings (the bank, the PO, the fateful car wash, and a stop at Walmart). So after a hasty removal, I donned some slacks and my favorite sweater and proceeded to bid farewell to my faithful bride (she hoping of course that I was about to fulfill the car wash promise).

My, how nice you look, she offered.

Wow, thanks! I’m in love, I replied. I grabbed my checkbook, donned my favorite Navy SEAL cap (it figures later in the saga of the failed wash fiasco), and I was out the door. If cars can think, I’m guessing she knew I was about to right that wrong.

As I sped down Pineridge Drive, it dawned on me that I had forgotten my checkbook but had left the deposit slip and check right where they were prepared. Not to worry, I quickly about-faced and returned for the fix.

You back already? she asked.

Never fear, Cactus is here. Just forgot my deposit. I did remember the letters, I responded with assurance. Now I’m back en route for the first stop. At that moment, my tiny brain kicked in again, causing me to reach for my right pocket wherein usually lies my money clip with driver’s license and credit card. Not to be found. Shit! I screwed up again. Back I retreated for the second fix.

What have you forgotten this time? she chided. "Haste