🌭 Gotta Have Some Fun Before Ya Go 🌭
Mike Kraus
Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Refuses to take his medicine. Just looks at an old wedding photo on the wall from his recliner. The fat and muscles of his body have evaporated leaving loose skin draped on a frail skeleton. “Luke, what da hell are ya doin’? Put me down.” As I lift him, I notice he weighs no more than a child.
“Sorry, ya got plans taday, Granpa.”
“Plans!?! Yer not bringin’ me ta da goddamn doctor, are ya? Put me down!” his resistance would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
“Calm down. We’re gonna have a good day.” I carry him to the garage and put him in the passenger seat of his old station wagon. I head back into the kitchen, throw a bunch of junk into a backpack, and return to the car. His gaze is fixed on the distance as I tear through the neighborhoods.
“Can we listen ta da radio?” he sheepishly asks.
“‘Course, it’s yer car ‘nd we do whatcha want taday.” I turn on the radio, which is set to the only country station he listens to. The gravel of Johnny Cash runs through the speakers instead of the usual grating twang. “We’re here.” I turn right off Indiana Avenue onto River Street bouncing the car into F-and-N Hot Dog Drive-In.
“Whatcha bringin’ me here fer? Da doc won’t lemme eat this stuff.”
“Ya can have a veggie milkshake if ya want, but I won’t tell da quack ya had a dog if you won’t.” Two Chicago Dog Specials with all the toppings, fries, and malts eventually make it to the car. It’s the only thing I’ve seen him eat in days. Slowly, he sets down a half-gnawed fry when he realizes I drove us to LaSalle Park. “Done? Wanna go down ta da river?” I throw the car into “D” and the car bounces through the grass passing the playground and picnic tables. I open the door, pick him up, and place him on the banks of the river. His eyes take in all the light. “Here ya go.” I hand him a loaf of cheap white bread from the bag and ducks race over. The Mallards battle for position.
“A loaf doesn’t last as long as ya think it would, does it?” Grandpa says. The ducks are impatient with his pace and I shoo them away when they try to bypass the middleman for food. “This was nice. Thanks fer gettin’ me outta da house.”
“Do ya wanna go home? We can do whatever ya want.”
“Whatever?” he looks at the river and ponders. “Let’s get back ta da car then.” I pick him and the backpack up and climb back into the station wagon. About ten minutes later, we pull into a disintegrated parking lot in front of a blighted factory. The bricks are graffitied and the corrugated steel slowly melts into rust. “I werked here for 43 years.” I slowly drive around the plant trying to avoid potholes. “Park over there.”
“Here ya go.” I hand him a flask of whiskey from the bag. “Fancy people call it a digest-if, if ya drink after hot dogs.”
“Very nice. This was da only place I ever werked.” He takes a miniscule sip. “Straight outta high school onta da assembly line. Werked my way up ‘nd into da union. Picketed fer fair wages ‘nd benefits. Their security guards ‘nd police would start fights ‘nd arrest us if we tried ta defend ourselves. Wasn’t right, but money was involved. Don’t know how these fat cats can sleep at night with their employee’s kids starvin’ at night. It’s also where I met yer granma. Ever tell ya dat story?”
“Nope.” I answer. He’s never been secretive, but wasn’t open to sharing private details either. “Did she werk here too?”
“No, no.” he laughs a bit. “We were on lunch break ‘nd a bunch of us were standin’ ‘round eatin’ on da third floor. Well, there were a coupla girls we could see sunbathin’ in da backyard over there.” He points to a boarded up bungalow on Erzinger Street. “Oh, da guys were whistlin’ ‘nd cat-callin’. My friend, George, asked me ‘think those girls are pretty?’ I said, ‘sure’. He went on, ‘what ‘bout da brunette? What ‘bout this? What ‘bout dat?’ Finally, I told ol’ George ta ‘shut up’ ‘bout the girls. Well, coupla days later, George invited me over ta his house ‘nd, wouldn’t ya know it, those sunbathin’ girls were there. One of da girls was his cousin ‘nd da other was yer granma. Da rest is history.” He savors another tiny bit of his drink.
“A good history?” I bite my upper lip.
“A great history… Let’s go over there.” His shaky hand points across the street. The old grocery-getter rattles into the entrance of Mary Magdalene Cemetery and sputters to a stop halfway down St. Herman Avenue at a hardened path. I hoist him through generations of headstones of varying styles and quality. At the end of the trail is a white birch tree along a chain link fence. The decaying factory casts its shadow over us. I set my grandfather at the base of a humble monument dedicated to “My beloved Rose.”
His body trembles as he lays his hand on the granite slab, which also bears his name, but no dates. There’s a tear slowly making its way down the contours of his wrinkled face. I crouch down beside him and place my arm around his bony shoulders. This is the first time I’ve seen him cry. He twists to grab onto me and buries his head into my chest. What few tears he’s able to shed exhaust his energy. “C’mon Granpa, it’s time ta go home.”
To read more, please visit: Intro: 🏡 History of Walnut House 🏡: https://readmedium.com/c01d241376bf 1) — 🚶 Ramblin’ Man 🚶♂️: https://readmedium.com/e7e0ea6355ff 2) — 👁Just Don’t See It 👁: https://readmedium.com/c93db0285d52 3) 🍸 Awakening 🍸: https://readmedium.com/b72e7dcbd17c 4) 🎸 Gazed In Wide Wonder 🎸: https://readmedium.com/626ce857b1cd 5) 💊 Tattered 💊: https://readmedium.com/a0422087f4e0 6) 🏭 Warehouse 🏭: https://readmedium.com/31bb79506dee 7) 🍹Little Taste of Grandpa’s Cough Syrup 🍹: https://readmedium.com/135499bc53d8 8) 🍳🥓☕ Breakfast With Anabelle ☕🥓🍳: https://readmedium.com/0839cce6bc47 9) 👾 What Lurks In the Basement 👾: https://readmedium.com/e8e7525f9bcc 10) 🌙 Night Time Is the Right Time 🌙: https://readmedium.com/6f6bbaef1e8e 11) 🖼 Refuge From An Indifferent World 🖼: https://readmedium.com/8ef888cb076c 12) ☠ Skull & Crossbones Memory ☠: https://readmedium.com/3f18f90ac784 13) 💚☕🚚 An Enchanting Evening At the Golden Ticket 🚚☕💚: https://readmedium.com/2f8284be509f 15) ✋ Handsy Hubert 🤚: https://readmedium.com/d7151e07870b 16) 🤵 Fake It ’Til Ya Make It 🤵: https://readmedium.com/f82ade21a44d 17) 🐴📦 Funny Little Box 📦🐴: https://readmedium.com/ea4b2fb0002d 18) 🍕 Tommy’s Pizza, Can I Help Ya? 🍕: https://readmedium.com/4ea3d996da9c 19) 🍺 Dusty’s Saloon 🍺: https://readmedium.com/09d9328ba48f 20) 💣 Does It Matter? 💣: https://readmedium.com/71218e31b858 21) 🥀 Hospice 🥀:https://readmedium.com/c7e330448393 22) 📢 ESTATE SALE! Today 10am-3pm 📢: https://readmedium.com/864c65a8c544
Mike Kraus was born on the industrial shoreline of Muskegon, Michigan. After earning his Fine Arts Degree from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, he attended Grand Valley State University for his graduate degree. From there, he gained varied experiences from the Chicago Architecture Center, Art Institute of Chicago, Hauenstein Center For Presidential Studies, Lollypop Farm Humane Society, and the Lurie Children’s Foundation. And every place he worked, he had his sketchbook with him and found ways to be actively creative. In 2014, Kraus became a full-time artist by establishing Mike Kraus Art. Since then, he has sold thousands of paintings that are displayed in nearly every state and dozens of countries. Currently, Kraus lives in Rochester, New York with his beautiful wife and goofy dog.
For more information, please visit: Store: http://MikeKrausArt.etsy.com Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/BrightscapesArt/ Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MikeKrausArt Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/MikeKraus/ Instagram: https://instagram.com/mikekrausart LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/mkraus
