Binky #10: Keep Feeding the Pigeons

It was a quiet and solitary scene on Chardon Square.  Some public offices and the library were closed. Binky thought the pigeons sounded almost noisy today. He was standing in his usual place by himself feeding the pigeons. Binky was feeding the pigeons differently.  Without really knowing it he was using techniques developed by the famous behavioral psychologist B.F. Skinner to train the pigeons to stay 6 feet apart. The pigeons were adjusting and learning fast.  It was so quiet that he heard footsteps coming from almost 20 feet away. Binky turned just as John Carlson, the lead reporter from the Maple Tree Gazette, greeted him.

Carlsson was noticeably glum, but Binky’s smile and upbeat tone of voice cheered Carlson a bit.

Carlson was worried about the Gazette.  With everything closed up, there would be a drop in advertising revenues from businesses, restaurants, and stores. He worried about the paper’s future. He worried that since not much was happening there wouldn’t be many stories for his reporters to write.

As he talked to Binky he told him all these things. Binky told John Carlson not to worry. Things will turn out OK. Binky said, “People like you, Mr. Carlson. They like the Gazette newspaper. They will help you.”  He told Mr. Carlson that there were plenty of good stories to write. He pointed to the pigeons and he described how fast they learned to stay 6 feet apart.  He reminded Carlson that spring was coming and there were plenty of good things to write about. There were things like the daffodils that came up with that bright yellow that looked so good after the dull gray winter. He told Carlson that he could write about the Redwing Blackbirds that return this time of year and make that funny squawky sound. Binky said, “Mr. Carlson, just walk down by the creek as the sun goes down and listen. There are hundreds of frogs croaking and squeaking. When they croak all together it’s really loud,” said Binky.”  Just go for a walk, you’ll see,” Binky urged.

By the time Carlson left he was feeling a lot better. He thought, yes we will make it. He looked back at Binky and waved one more time. Binky smiled a big smile and waved back.  Carlson turned to go and thought to himself, “No damn wonder people like that guy.”

Writer’s note:

For nearly 3 months I have been writing (or maybe attempting to write) fictional parodies and satires entitled Binky’s Bench. The newspaper treated the stories as advertising and charged me accordingly. I paid for the space.

It’s important that we understand that in America we have a wonderful freedom, freedom of the press. A Free Press, however doesn’t mean a free newspaper. Newspapers sustain themselves first and foremost with advertising and secondly through subscriptions.

So maybe it’s time that you bought a small ad that wishes a friend or loved one happy birthday, or share the location of your secret fishing hole, tell people where the best takeout fish fry is and remind your wife how much you love her. (Maybe that ad should be a little bigger.)  I could go on but you get the point. When this is all over we will still want know what’s happening in Geauga County and I hope this paper will be there to tell us.

Last, this is my final episode of Binky’s Bench. Now it’s up to you to create your own stories and write about them. There are lots of things to write about both fiction and nonfiction. When you write I hope you will use Binky as a role model. Just like Binky, try to be helpful so that people will like you. Oh, and just one more thing. Keep feeding the pigeons.

The opinions expressed here are solely those of Dave Partington. Binky’s Bench is paid for solely by Dave Partington. Binky's Bench is a work of fiction.

Bud #11: The Sun’s Gonna Shine

I was just sitting at home, so I called Bud to see how he was doing. He answered and told me that the bar was closed, but take out was thriving. I was surprised to hear that because there had been no food service at Bud’s since Emma (Bud’s wife and cook) passed away. That was years ago.

Randy and Amanda decided to change that. Right away they began cleaning up the commercial kitchen in the back of Bud’s. They got Ricky the Afghanistan vet and mechanical genius to help. Within a couple of days Ricky had the stoves, freezer, and cooler up and running. Bud called his supplier and got food and carryout containers. So far it was just burgers and fries, but Amanda had a great recipe for beef stew. The problem was they had no way to package it for carry out. Bud called around to some different suppliers. One guy said he had a couple of pallets of the boxes used at Chinese restaurants for carryout. He said that they should work for beef stew. They did work fine, but it was a little strange to put beef stew in those little wire handled boxes with the pagoda on the side and the message that said ‘enjoy.’

Bud rigged up his own version of a drive up cash register. He took a 5- gallon plastic bucket that still had a lid. He cut a slot in the top to put in the money. Then he got a big piece of cardboard. He used a magic marker and wrote ‘MENU’ in big letters. Then he listed the items. Hamburger $ ?, fries $ ?, Stew $ ?

Underneath that he wrote “You know what they are worth. You decide.”

The next day they scaled up a bit. After remembering that lots of folks near Geauga Corners had a hard time getting around, they decided on home delivery. Gary made some deliveries with his dump truck. Harold had a field day teasing Gary with ‘meals on wheels’ jokes and the slogan “Let us dump your dinner.” The whole thing went really well.

At the end of the day they all sat apart on lawn chairs around a fire ring that Bud had set up in the side yard of ‘Bud’s Geauga  Corners’. The fire was burning bright and hot.  It was a relaxing finish to a busy and successful day. They were sitting listening to the fire crackle when B.L. Jefferson drove up. He brought his guitar over and opened up the case. He said “I’m gonna sing a different song.  I learned this one from a bluegrass banjo player name of Dave Evans.”  When he sang they all knew it was the last part of the chorus he wanted everyone to hear.

That part of the chorus went like this:

…The sun’s gonna shine in my back door some day

Yes, the sun’s gonna shine in my back door some day

Warm winds gonna blow our blues all away.

B.L. Jefferson finished the song. Everyone was silent

The fire crackled. They all stared into the flames with the same thoughts.

We will get through this together.

Writer’s note:

For nearly 3 months I have been writing (or maybe attempting to write) fictional parodies and satire entitled Bud’s Geauga Corners . The newspaper treated the stories as advertising and charged me accordingly. I paid for the space.

It’s important that we understand that in America we have a wonderful freedom, freedom of the press. A Free Press, however doesn’t mean a free newspaper. Newspapers sustain themselves first and foremost with advertising and secondly through subscriptions.

So maybe it’s time that you bought a small ad that wished a friend or loved one happy birthday, or shared the location of your secret fishing hole, tell people where to get the best take out fish fry and maybe place an ad reminding your wife how much you love her. (Maybe that ad should be a little bigger.)  I could go on but you get the point. When this is all over we will still want know what’s happening in Geauga County and I hope this paper will be there to tell us.

Last, this is my final episode of Bud’s Geauga Corners. Now it’s up to you to create your own stories. There are lots of things to write about both fiction and nonfiction. In the coming weeks I hope you will think of Bud and his friends and just like the folks at Geauga Corners we will need to be together as a sharing community.  If we can do that then the “sun will shine in our back door someday.”

The opinions expressed are solely those of Dave Partington and of course Bud, Randy, Harold, Larry and the rest of the guys sitting at the bar at Bud’s. Bud’s Geauga Corners is a work of fiction. Bud’s Geauga Corners is paid for solely by Dave Partington.