Category Archives: -Sue Remisiewicz

Men on the Beach

Carl pulled fishing gear from his minivan and laid the equipment on a cooler strapped to a trolley cart. Though he stood on a Florida beach, he wore a dark sweatshirt and matching sweatpants due to an unusually cold spell of weather. No matter how hot or cold, he always wore the same cap bearing the Navy logo. After securing his gear, Carl locked the van and made his way down to the edge of the surf. He pulled the cart with one hand and carried a fishing rod in the other. He picked a spot that looked promising, baited his hook then cast it into the ocean.

Charlie arrived soon after. He wore a yellow windbreaker, khaki pants, and a cap displaying the Army emblem. He exchanged hand waves with Carl then started fishing.

A little while later, Rick joined the other two men. He set his gear down a short way south from where they stood. He tipped his ‘ARMY’ emblazoned cap to Charlie and Carl who both tipped their hats back at him. As was their habit since they first met, the three men fished together in silence.

On their first day together at the beach, they talked a lot. Mostly tall tales about their fishing exploits. Eventually, the conversation turned to their military service. They were not surprised to find that all three served in World War II. Nor were they surprised that they all participated in the conflict in Europe. Carl asked the two army veterans where specifically they had served. After a moment of silence, Charlie replied, “Normandy.” After another silence, Carl and Rick both responded, “Me too.” They stood together for a few more minutes then went back to their fishing.

For several years now, the three men have come together on a Florida beach. They barely say a word to each other, but are bonded in a way no one can see or understand, unless they too had been on a beach, in France, so many years ago.

Lunch with a Stranger

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Alice sat on a bench, against a wall, under the shade of the tree to her right, and the tree to her left, and the trees lining the wall behind her. She opened her lunch bag to pull out a tuna sandwich she had packed the night before. It was her routine action of her routine day of her routine life.

She took a bite of the sandwich then raised her head to watch people strolling on the wide, brick sidewalk. As she started to focus on a man dressed in khaki pants and a casual shirt, Alice found him looking at her. They both jerked their heads away and looked in different directions. Alice’s face flushed red in embarrassment. After daring to look back again, she saw the man had continued walking and was fading into the distance. Alice sighed. Cautiously resuming her people-watching, she finished lunch without further incident and went back to work.

Feeling confident that she would not see the man again, Alice sat on her usual bench the next day. She took a bite of her sandwich. The man did not appear. She glanced about as she chewed then swallowed. As she raised the sandwich for a second bite, the man came into view. Their eyes locked upon each other. Alice thought it would be foolish to turn away again, so she smiled politely. He smiled, nodded and continued his walk. She finished her lunch then returned to work.

Over the weekend, thoughts about the lunch encounters interrupted the normally methodical execution of her chores. The dreamy way she kept feeling, however, would quickly be displaced by self-reproach for getting distracted from the tasks at hand. So on Monday when Alice saw the man coming in the distance, her heart rate jumped and her palms felt wet. “Get ahold of yourself,” she chided. “Quit acting like a schoolgirl. You need only smile politely.” And that’s what she did. He smiled, nodded his head and kept walking.

For a month, weather permitting, this became part of the daily routine for Alice: lunch, smile, smile, nod. The complacent structure of her life fell back into balance, until the day the stranger did not show up. “Odd,” thought Alice. “Oh, he’s probably just taking the day off from work.”

One day turned into three and Alice found that she missed the man whose habits seemed as fastidious as her own. A week went by, then two, causing Alice to worry and hope he was okay.

On Wednesday of the third week, Alice sat on her bench and heard a strange sound. Clump then a footstep. Clump then step. Clump then step. Alice turned, looking for the sound, and saw the man walking much slower than his usual pace. A cast on his left foot made the reason clear. Alice’s emotions swirled as she felt both happy to see him and concerned over what happened to his foot. Fear quickly took over as the man left the brick walkway and made his way toward her.

“Hello,” he said after stopping a few feet in front of Alice. He looked more timid and shy than she imagined of him from afar.

“Hello,” she said as her mouth went dry.

“This is only my third day with this walking cast and I think this is as far as I should go.” He cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I share your bench for lunch?”

“Please do,” she said smiling politely.

He smiled, nodded, and joined her on the bench.

Fine Dining

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For centuries I’ve lain buried, engulfed in sand. Tricked by tribesmen and trapped so deeply I cannot move. At first, I survived by eating the bugs and crawlers that were able to dig that far down. Barely maintaining my massive bulk, across ages, with contemptible morsels, I crave a hearty meal. Human flesh to eat and blood to drink.

My heart leapt the day muffled sound came through the sand. Silence had reigned for so long I forgot I possessed the sense of hearing. I dared to think the noise signaled that I would soon be released from my prison. Instead, the sound teased me by growing louder then softer, over and over again for decades. Despair consumed me till I realized that even when the noise receded, the sound remained stronger than before. After that, the ebb and flow of the noise stoked my thirst for revenge. So I waited.

Eventually the sand around me began to change temperature. I no longer sat in constant cold. I imagined the sun rising when the sand warmed then setting as the sand cooled. Larger creatures, crabs and sand worms, made their way to me. Better meals to boost my strength. Still, I longed to suck on the corpse of one of the warriors who put me here.

More intense and more often than I remember, hurricanes have torn at the sand above me. Today, I sense another storm starting. The sound of the wind builds. I feel the pounding of the rain. The storm dredges the sand. I am near the surface now, but still too confined to move. I feel air upon one of the spines protruding from my back. Oh glorious! With a few more rushes of wind, the rain falls directly on my skin. The wind and rain stop. No! I weep in anguish.

An hour passes. The wind picks up again with more ferocity than before. My snout escapes and my head breaks through the sand. The storm scrapes across my long front limbs. Though my hind limbs remain buried, I rejoice in the freedom I have gained.

I am weak from hunger, but that will change. My camouflage is exquisite. I look like nothing more than driftwood washed up on the shore. I will rest until someone comes to me. After all, the best meals are worth the wait.

River Crossing

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I must have been five years old the first time Mama warned me about the river. I let go of her hand and ran into the cold water ‘til it covered my bare feet up to the ankles. Before I could go any further, Mama grabbed my wrist and yanked me back onto the shore.

Her gaze blazed through me. “Don’t you ever go trying to cross the river, girl! Even if you make it, the evil on the other side will do you in.” Though young as I was, I sensed that I ought not try to explain I only wanted to cool my feet.

In the thirteen years since, I’ve heard that warning from her hundreds of times. She varies the words some, but she always puts the same stress on the last three words, “do you in.” Every time she says it, the same fear that shook me at five years old comes back to sizzle through me from head to toe.

Sometimes, I sit on a boulder and watch the river and the forest on the other side. The dangers of the river are clear. Water plunges down a bunch of tall, steep drop-offs that line up one right after another. Lose your balance on the slippery rocks and the river will sweep you away, knock you unconscious, and make you helpless as water fills your lungs, bit by bit, ‘til you are dead.

I respect Mama’s warning about the river. What I don’t get is the part about the evil on the other side. I asked Papa about it once. He just pursed his lips and said, “Mind your mother, Jilly.” I never asked anyone else. ‘Cause if I spoke Mama’s business to anyone but her, she’d ground me for weeks and not let me talk to anyone ‘til she cooled off.

Now, I feel a bitter, deep loneliness. Papa died last year. High school graduation day has passed. Things are changing and Mama stays the same. She wants me to stay the same, too. But today, for the first time in thirteen years, I stand barefoot in the river with cool water up to my ankles. Staring, staring at the other side.

4 Tips for Surviving a Bathroom Remodel

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In September, October, and November of 2015, I posted blogs about having my master bathroom remodeled. Having learned a lot through the experience, I’m happy to share four tips to help you weather the ordeal should you decide to do a similar renovation of your own.

Boxes take over my master bedroom.

1. Move out of the master bedroom for the duration of the work.

This saved time because the contractor could keep his equipment in the room, plus, he didn’t have to cover and uncover my furniture every day. Also, the new cabinets and fixtures could be stored in the bedroom for ready access when needed. Take enough outfits to last one week when you move into your temporary sleeping space. Replace or supplement with additional items on the weekend when construction isn’t happening. Make sure you have all the toiletries, soap, makeup, hair care products, etc., that you’ll need in your temporary bathroom as well.

2. Get a referral for a designer or contractor from someone you know who has had work done recently.

At first, finding a referral proved difficult. Based on responses to my inquiries, I gathered that not a lot of people have been putting money into home improvements since the housing market went bust. I eventually received a referral from my friend Anne. Ironically, Anne found her designer via a flyer. It worked out and Anne was very happy with the result. So although it’s possible to use advertisements to find someone who can do a good job, by working with Anne’s designer I had much more confidence and less anxiety.

3. When setting your budget, decide the maximum you want to spend then subtract ten percent from the total. Use the reduced figure to plan the remodel with your designer and/or contractor.

I was fortunate. After opening the walls, my contractor didn’t find any major issues that required costly fixes. The few minor issues he found could be handled within the original estimate. That isn’t always the case. By keeping a little money in reserve, I was in a better position to deal with unanticipated problems without spending more than I wanted to or could afford. And not having to spend my reserve meant I had a nice bonus to apply to something else—bathroom accessories!

Calder inspecting the work.

4. If you have a pet, decide what you need to do to keep your pet safe.

Calder is an indoor cat that has never shown any interest in trying to escape from my house. However, with workers and delivery people going in and out, I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t bolt outside if he got spooked. Also, it wouldn’t be safe if he got underfoot while someone carried a heavy, unwieldy package. So, I decided to lock Calder in my home office when I left for work and let him out when I returned. This required some time to prepare and make the office an acceptable place to keep my cat all day. By not leaving things to chance, you can have confidence that no injuries or issues will occur.

I hope these tips help you have as good of an experience as I did. Good luck and happy renovating!

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