No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do. – Dorothy Day
Practicing gratefulness changes us. It opens our eyes and hearts to the small and large gifts life offers us at every moment. We can be grateful for the sun, run, or snow. We can be grateful for a friend, job, or shower. We can be grateful for our morning coffee, ballgames won, or a family member. The list is endless. In the following video see how this woman decided to place gratitude into the center of her life.
When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself. – Tecumseh
Chapter 9
Zeke was driving, Mickey was in the passenger seat. His arms wrapped around a package, ten inches by six inches by four inches. Zeke glanced over, “Any address on the package?” asked Zeke.
Mickey looked at it. “All the address says is P.O 191, 273 Court Street, Brockton, Mass 02302. That’s all. Can I shake it?”
“You crazy, Mickey. What if it is a bomb from one of Tony’s competitors?”
Mickey’s eyes widened as big as saucers. He bent over and pressed his chest against the package. “Slow down. If we crash we’re going be blown up. Why didn’t you tell me there was a bomb in the package. We’re going to die, Zeke. I can feel it. It’s going to hurt like hell when it happens,” said Mickey.
“I didn’t say there was a bomb in there, Mickey. I said maybe there’s a bomb in there. I don’t think there is a bomb in there because Tony said to hold the package for him until he was ready to collect it.”
Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. He straightened up. He said, “I could use a beer after that close call. You know how they say your life flashes in front of you when you’re going to die. Mine flashed in front of me and I saw the white light too. I guess I’m not ready to die.”
Zeke didn’t want to travel down that path, “It was a close call. Let’s go over to Marzelli’s and grab a sub. If he doesn’t sell beers, we’ll take our subs to go and pick up a six pack.”
“You got all the good ideas, Zeke. Your brain works faster than a forklift,” said Mickey putting his hear to the package. He added, “I don’t hear no ticking. So, I think you are right, it’s not a bomb. You think we should take the package by Nonna after we have our sub and beer? Maybe she can use her inner eye to tell us what’s in it.”
Zeke turned left onto Warren Ave. “This is the Puerto Rican neighborhood. Know how you can tell?”
“How?” asked Mickey.
“Just look out the window. That’s all you see is Puerto Ricans,” said Zeke.
“I know a Puerto Rican, Julio. He’s a nice guy. He took me to a chicken fight one time and I won ten bucks. Julio taught me how to pick out a tough chicken,” said Mickey.
“How come I never met Julio? You never told me about the chicken fights,” said Zeke.
“The cops raided it the next night. Julio got arrested and since he had priors he’s doing five to ten at Cedar Junction. It’s too bad. Think about it, no body complains when they kill chicken and eat it. I call that murder. That’s different than assault. Besides, Julio was not doing the assaulting. It was the chickens doing the assaulting,” said Mickey.
Zeke tried to respond. His brain refused to send a signal to his mouth. He nodded his head and pointed to Marzelli’s. It was packed. He pulled into his reserved spot. The one in front of the fire hydrant. He got out of the car. Mickey got out still clutching the package. The boys walked into Marzelli’s ordered a large meatball sub and a large Philly cheese steak sub and two beers. They took their orders and sat in the only empty booth. Zeke sat facing the door. Mickey placed the package on the seat next to him and faced the window.
“This meatball sub is good. It’s really good. Marzelli should franchise. How’s the Philly cheese steak. Maybe I shoulda got that. I haven’t had one since I went to the Pats game with you last September,” said Mickey.
“The best one I ever had. I like the idea of going back to Nonna. Maybe she’s done with making a curse. I was thinking what if there is a million dollars in this package and we’re carrying it around,” said Zeke.
“Can I peek?” asked Mickey.
Will the boys succumb to the temptation to look inside the package? What will Nonna advise them to do?
Love comes to us from many sources. Love transforms us, heals us, renews us, and recreates us. Love lifts us up and all is well. In this one minute YouTube video you will be inspired by the unconditional love dogs bring to dying patients.
Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind. Bernard Baruch
Chapter 8
Zeke and Mickey sat in Zeke’s Chevy parked on Court Street in Brockton, across from Security Postal. Next to Security postal was a Goodwill drop off store, next to the Goodwill store a liquor store, and on the other side of Security postal was a boarded-up sub shop. The buildings, were stuck together since some time early in the last century and looked like they were never cleaned.
“This place gives me the creepies. Why would Tony, who’s got so much dough, pick a place like this for his mail pickup.”
“That’s because he never goes here. He sends schmucks like you and me,” said Zeke.
“What do you think is in the box. Do you think the cops are watching? What about the guy on NCIS? What’s his name?” asked Mickey.
Zeke took a sip of Dunkin Donuts coffee along with a bite of a raspberry jelly donut, mixed the donut and coffee inside his mouth, chewed somewhat then swallowed. When he finished, he said, “I saw this rerun of CSI. I think it was CSI Vegas. No, it was CSI Phoenix. No, it was CSI Chicago.”
“No, I know the one you are thinking about, is it CSI Jersey? I know it’s either that one or CSI Worcester,” said Mickey.
“They never made a CSI Worcester. Half the country can’t say the name right,” said Zeke.
“Then it’s to be CSI Jersey,” said Mickey. He continued, “There was this guy and this other guy and they was going to break into a lab and torch the whole thing to destroy the evidence.”
Zeke interrupted Mickey, “Mickey, what’s this show got to do with picking up a box inside Security Mail?”
A confused look came over Mickey. He fell silent for a moment, then he said, “Nothing. I just like that show. I was thinking we could learn something from it.”
Zeke said, “I’ll have to remember to watch the rerun. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go in and get the box and I’ll keep the car running in case we have to make a quick getaway.”
“That doesn’t sound fair, Zeke. We should flip a coin to see who gets to go in,” complained Mickey,
“Can’t,” said Zeke.
“Why,” said Mickey.
“Because I only have insurance coverage for me on this car. And, I don’t have you on the policy. You’d be in big trouble if you got in an accident,” said Zeke.
Mickey thought about for a second, he scratched his groin, “Thanks for thinking about me, Zeke. What’s the number of the box?”
“It’s on the key. Here it is. It’s 1 6 1,” said Zeke handing the key to Mickey.
Mickey took the key and looked at it, “What if it’s 1 9 1? It could be. Look? If I put the key into the wrong mailbox, somebody might think I’m up to something and call the cops.”
Zeke looked at the key. He flipped it over several times, “Why’d he have to go and get a number that can be two numbers? The way I figure it we got only a chance in a hundred to picking the right box. When I get nervous, I like to eat. I wish the sub shop wasn’t closed.”
Mickey said, “I got an idea, Zeke.”
“What?” said Mickey.
“We both go in. Since you’re the brains, you go to counter and asked whoever is behind the counter if they know where you can find a sub shop because you’re hungry for a sub. I go and try my key in 1 6 1 and if it doesn’t work I’ll try it in 1 6 2 and keep going until I get to 1 9 1.”
Zeke said, “This is a good idea, Mickey. I got one little tweak I gotta make. You try 1 6 1 first and if it doesn’t work you try 1 9 1. You skip everything in between.”
“You sure, Zeke?” asked Mickey, a worried look on his face.
“I’m sure,” said Zeke.
“I got another question, Zeke?”
“What is it, Mickey?” asked Zeke.
“When you ask about a sub shop, ask if they know one that makes good meatball subs,” said Mickey.
“Okay,” said Zeke.
The boys got out of the car and crossed the street. Zeke walked in first, Mickey followed. There was guy behind the counter sorting mail. Mickey walked to the mailboxes. Zeke went to the counter.
“You know where I can get a good meatball sub?” asked Zeke.
“Do I look like Bobby Flay on the Food Channel?” snapped the guy behind the counter.
“You bear a remarkable resemblance if you had hair and real teeth. But I am being respectful and I would like some respect in return,” answered Zeke.
“I don’t respect myself, why should I respect you?” said the guy behind the counter.
Zeke looked over his shoulder, Mickey was trying to jam the key into 1 6 1. Zeke turned back to the guy behind the counter, “For one reason you should respect me, I don’t pee on your door when you are closed. Your door smells like hell.”
“It’s the damn homeless people. They think my door is a urinal. You’re not a bad guy. I’ll tell you the best sub shop in the city, it’s Marzelli’s over on Warren Ave. Don’t go past the 1200 block, that’s where all the Puerto Rican’s live. They don’t know a good sub from a bad hamburger. Know what I mean?”
Zeke looked over his shoulder, he saw Mickey pulling a box out of 1 9 1. “I know what you mean. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, get the hell out of here.”
What’s in the box? Will Zeke and Mickey go to Marzelli’s for a sub?
Life is change. There is nothing we can do to prevent change from happening. It is as much a fact of life as the sun rising and setting. Each moment we are challenged to adjust and adapt to change. When we are open to change, we become its master. Change no longer drags us kicking and screaming like a small child into a new reality. We move into our new reality and create good. Get inspired with the following YouTube video on change.
I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say. ~T. S. Eliot
You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore. ~ William Faulkner
