Three Early Musings

THE BUZZ

A short story by T A Kenny

It was four fifty-eight. The buzzing was continuous. Not eternal, because it would end some day. Just continuous for now. I suppose that as far as it was concerned, it was eternal, but I knew otherwise. It was about half-way between F3 and F3#. 180 Hz. There were occasional elements inserted into the continuous stream that changed the sound. As if a race in three other dimensions had invented a ticker-tape style communicator to talk to us, but on our end it was manifested as semi-random fluctuations from an aquarium air pump.

Maybe the fish understood.

Maybe it was more like a TV being on in the next room. You hear the noise, try to ignore it, but occasionally a few words make it through the vail and you have to think about them, if only briefly. The fish are probably completely immune to the continuous part of the buzz. All they hear are the interruptions. They don't have a lot else to do but try to interpret the sounds.

I try to interpret the sounds in my life. I wonder if there isn't some continuous buzzing that I can no longer hear, but if I could, I would better understand the sources of the sounds.

A day spent running around. That's the noise. Always somewhere to be from time A to time B. Every day, with a few exceptions, is full, but in such an unstructured manner that sometimes one doesn't perceive the fullness until it is over, Then what.

Mornings were supposed to be my time. But weekdays waking at five leaves only about fifteen minutes from finishing up the animals and starting in on my kid. The prospect of four or four thirty looms menacingly, but surely an hour of sleep matters too. Probably most have heard the saying that on your death bed, you will never regret not having spent enough time at the office. But is sleep in the same category? Will you say "I wish I had slept less so I could have done more X." Maybe.

Today, though, would have only two bonus minutes.

FISH

An essay by T A Kenny

Fish as pets. How ever did this come about and what is the benefit? Dogs bring loyalty, companionship, protection, even love. Cats at least give something near to the extremes of pain and pleasure, as you experience when one is resting on your lap when some random noise sends their back claws into your thighs.

But fish? Surely there must have been some film-flam man with a stockpile of aquariums (aquaria?), or maybe just see-through water tanks of some sort, who saw his mark and the aquarium was born.

Snow Fence, 'S No Fence, No 'Ffence

An essay by T A Kenny

It was a banner year. The banner was made of cheap plastic sheeting spelling out pointless exasperation and futility. A grid work of holes was punched out of the sheet, scientifically designed to allow just exactly the wrong amount of air through. We have a tradition, that every fall we erect a snow fence consisting of this four foot wide sheet supported by steel fence posts, to which it is attached with plastic ties. And in response to this labor-intensive practice, the universe sends no snow for the duration of the winter season.

It is a sort of win-win for us, as we get a nice afternoon planting the fruitless steel in the sandy ground, and save countless hours of plowing and blowing due to the lack of frosty precipitation.

Somewhere this year, the great wire-crosser was busy at work, and the plan went completely awry. The only real snow that came down was received in early November, well before the fence went up. After that, nothing but flurries. Until February. But a few days before the admittedly moderate snow, two days of gale force winds blew in, managing to separate most of the sheet from the steel.

But all is well that ends well. That snow is mostly gone. And we got another great day to cut the few remaining ties, harvest the steel and roll up the plastic. And what a day. Sunny and close to 50. Of course, more snow in in the forecast for tonight.