A Blind Man Makes an Omelet

I mean really
how can it be that difficult
crack a few eggs
stir briskly
pour some olive oil into the frying pan
turn the dial to medium heat
oh, almost forgot
add salt and pepper to the eggs and a dash of water
stir even more
that’s supposed to make the eggs fluffy

okay, here we go
pour the aerated egg mixture into the frying pan
now it gets a bit more tricky
because I can’t really see what’s going on
but following the memorized instructions
I use a spatula to gently loosen the slowly cooking eggs
prodding the edges towards the center of the pan
can’t say I can feel much here as the eggs have little mass
but I keep going round and round while
at the same time
occasionally lifting the pan and moving it from side to side
imagining that the egg mixture is slip sliding around

now the fun begins
I set the frying pan down and reach for the plate
of previously stir fried veges
still sending up warmth to my hovering hand
the instructions said place the veges on one side
of the nearly cooked eggs
I take my best shot
using the pan handle as a reference point
in go the veges
no cheese, I’m off dairy

my nose is beginning to recognize pleasant aromas
this is positive, as my nose also remembers
the acrid stench of previous burned food adventures

so far so good, now the final touch
the instructions said
gently fold half the egg mixture over the veges
then turn off the heat and let things finish cooking
I’m trying to remember which side I put the veges on
I probe about with the spatula and realize
that the veges are spread over most of the eggs

no matter
I slip the spatula under the egg mixture
guessing at what seems to be halfway across the supposed circle
then, with an air of gusto
I flipped half my omelet onto its other side

didn’t quite feel right
but it does smell inviting

I take a deep breath
sip some cranberry sparkling cider
bolster courage
then slide my culinary creation onto a plate

I can tell it’s not quite the desired half moon shape
as I hear several slight thunks on the plate

Okay, maybe the final result doesn’t look much like the pic on the recipe
which I couldn’t see anyway

but these were the best scrambled eggs
this blind man has ever made

tio stib aka uncle steve

perhaps

perhaps when the child has disappeared
vanished in the chaos of growing years

perhaps

perhaps the heart must first be cleansed
purified
borne upon sea of tears

and then

and then the soul

released

can laugh

again

perhaps

tiostib aka uncle steve

No
I don’t expect to meet any interesting strangers at Starbucks
in all the years I’ve dropped by, this has happened
a mere handful of times
and, being fearlessly honest,
who’s going to start up a conversation with a blind guy
who’s decades older than all the other customers

no, I don’t come here for the conversation
I come for the hot chocolate

I put on my overcoat, slip fingers into gloves, pull on a hat
and venture forth into the cold wintry air because
because hot chocolate is my comfort drink of choice

for some it’s coffee
for some whiskey or similar narcotic
never developed a taste for such addictions
but I do have a weakness for a well crafted cup
of whip cream free, cinnamon on top
steaming hot chocolate

which I slowly sip
paying small heed
to the circulating energies around me

of course, being blind does make isolation easier
much simpler to avoid weirdness I can’t see
but the other side of this coin is the inevitable gossip
filtering into my overly sensitive ears

“Really, like you mean he dumped you? Like just like that?”

“My boss is such a jerk. Can you believe he wants me to log my coffee breaks all day long?”

“Well, dear, I know I shouldn’t give advice, given my own history, but do you really think marrying a 52 year old man who lives with his mother is a smart thing to do when you’re only 25?”

“No, Billy, I’m not going to buy you a muffin, a brownie, and a sandwich. You’re only 4 years old, that’s too much. Pick one thing”

“Do you know like I sent out two hundred resumes using Ai and, like, out of all that I only got three responses asking to interview me? One was for customer service at WalMart and the others were for fast food places. I’ve got a college degree, like what good did that do me/“

fortunately, my local Starbucks has become more of a grab and go enterprise
than a place for sit down meetings or studying
leaving me mostly alone to wander through my mind
considering those questions that only a delicious cup of hot chocolate
can answer

what’s for dinner?

tio stib aka uncle steve

I know, when we engage in conversation,
that people expect me to look at them

it’s the polite thing to do
it shows that you care
that you’re paying attention

so I try to remember
remember to turn my face towards theirs when they speak

even though I can’t see those faces
can’t see the sparkle in their eyes
can’t see their grimaces sharing unpleasant experiences
can’t see their delight describing new born grandchildren

but I try
try to show that I do care
that I want to connect with them

but in truth
they are all ghosts with voices

and I am left wondering

did that conversation really happen
were those real people

am I really here, now, living in a world I could once see

or is this all a dream

tio stib aka uncle steve

It’s my weekly trip to Safeway
stocking up on what to eat
been up and down the aisles
been graciously aided by shoppers and employees
helping the old blind guy find what he cannot see
bantered with the cashier about toy trains
and the crazy things people do during the holiday season
said thank you to the kind young woman who helped hoist
my loaded reusable fabric bags up onto my shoulders

and I’m headed home
smiling in gratitude for all the good people in the world

and I hear her long lost voice in my head
making sure I’ve not forgotten the most important item

“Cookies?”

and loneliness bites me in the butt

and I cry

tio stib aka uncle steve

I have an extra something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Day. I’m going to meet the older sister I never knew I had.

How could this be? I thought I was the oldest kid in the family with two younger brothers. My mother never told me otherwise. Our father disappeared before (I entered elementary school and no one else in the family ever offered a clue that another sibling existed.

But this past Spring, my brother submitted a DNA sample to a genealogy company. To his surprise, the results came back with “you have a sister match.”

It seems that our mother and father got pregnant when she was fifteen. I suspect there was family pressure on the father’s side to put the baby up for adoption. And so, the child was parented by a loving couple in eastern Washington. My mother never said anything about this to her subsequent sons.

Her name is Judee and by the sound of her voice in recent Zoom calls, she’s quite a pleasant person. My nieces say she looks a lot like their grandmother, who passed away years ago. Admittedly, I’m a bit bewildered by this sibling surprise, but I’m boarding a plane with my Benicia family on thanksgiving morning and by evening, I’ll have a face to face meeting with my long lost sister and a hug that has been waiting to happen for many, many years.

Add this to so many other things I am grateful for and this holiday is proving to be quite memorable.

May you have all the joy and blessings that thanksgiving can bring and let’s each do our best to help others enjoy the holiday.

Tio Stib aka Uncle Steve

It’s my birthday and somehow, someway, I’ve managed to make it to 77

77 years of living on Planet Earth.

Unbelievable. I’m stupefied. How could I have survived so many reckless adventures, moments of farcical stupidity, when countless smarter, more practical people have perished?

Somehow I’ve beaten the odds, but it defies logic.

Oh, make no mistake, I very much appreciate my continued existence. I drink in mouthfuls of fresh air on my morning walks along the seashore. I savor the explosion of tastes biting into Chico’s super burrito. I lie in bed before sunrise thanking whatever gods are watching over me for the blessings that keep on filling my days.

but 77. That’s a big number, a lot bigger number than I ever dreamed of saying out loud on my birthday. And, strangely, I don’t feel what part of me thinks 77 should be feeling. Yes, blindness has kept me from noticing the aging signs in the bathroom mirror so all I can measure aging by is what the body can still do without much help.

Most everything thank you, with no accompanying creaks and groans. that said, I do admit to frequent nighttime trips to the loo which were not necessary in younger years.

Here’s hoping I won’t hyperventilate trying to blow out all those candles.

Best wishes to all for a joyful Thanksgiving holiday

Yours to count on,

Tio Stib aka Uncle Steve