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Monday, July 26, 2010

Who's steering this thing??

Scruff Fricken sat on the bench in the back of his canoe and watched the Sun rise on his thirty-eighth year. It looked remarkably shiny and smelled fresher than he thought it would. The day that is, not the canoe but then, sunrises usually did. He liked sunrises. Better than sunsets anyway. They had such a hopeful tone to them. Of course he could safely think that because he had never been the victim of a dawn attack by raiders bent on pillage and rape. But then, the dawn probably looked pretty and hopeful to the raiders on those occasions too. So maybe it was just a matter of point of view.

Scruff Fricken was hopeful too. This was remarkable as well for in all actuality he had no concrete foundation for such an airy frame. He was unemployed for the first time in seventeen years with a family to feed. He was deeply in debt because of a house that he would most likely never be able to finish or sell. He was too old and too beat up anymore to continue in the only field he was trained to do and he wasn't particularly gifted at the management side of it. A man has to know his limitations and where planning and logistics were concerned, Scruff was a dog on a short leash. In short, he was in a leaky canoe at the top of the falls and he hadn't packed a paddle.

Scruff Fricken had other talents to be sure and maybe it was the chance to see what he could do with these that lent him his hollow hope. But the label, "starving artist," kept punching holes in his hull and the roaring of the falls made it hard to be creative. The reality of the situation was that he had no work ready to publish, no portfolio, no contacts, no prospects and no idea where to begin.

Scruff Fricken had a sunrise and he had Hebrews chapter eleven, verse one: "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." There was some disturbing stuff around that verse about suffering, prison and confiscation of property so Scruff figured he was being warned this was going to be a bumpy ride. Going over the falls usually was, he reckoned. He supposed there was a chance that God would rescue him before the falls but that wasn't what he placed his hope in either.

Scruff Fricken was going over the falls but Jesus was sleeping in the front of the boat and the falls sure looked pretty in the morning Sun.

2 comments:

Linda said...

Aha! I figured out how to comment! I have been hoping you could switch your career over to writing, since you love it and are good at it. If your larger works aren't ready yet, I think there are magazines that you can send samples to and they give you assignments. Online stuff is huge now. If you have followers on this blog, you can get paid for it by advertising here, too. But, you realize you'll never starve...just drop by for meals and share our Sam's membership with us. Much Love to you on your birthday!! and remember 38 for men is like 23 for women!!

scruffy said...

Way to go Lindy! i'll still put the followers gadget up cause i think that helps people find you as well. And since i think your writing is every bit as thoughtful and inspired as you seem to think mine is, that would be worth it.

i have no idea what twenty-three is like for women? Are they partying? Looking for a mate? Getting overlooked for promotions? What? i'd hate to think that it means needing naps in the afternoon, sore joints and frustration with how life is lived.