Awaiting On You All


Lush life.

Mondays are getting harder,

Did you ever tell somebody exactly what you want only to have them repeat the exact opposite to you? That’s what happened to me yesterday. Monday. When I said no, and repeated what I wanted, the same thing happened. I realize that I’m a Yankee. A Damn Yankee. I speak like I’m from Brooklyn, which I am. That should make me sound like a Yat, a person who lives in the 7th Ward.

There’s good historical reason for that. It’s likely that Yats were sailors. The two biggest ports in the country back before the Civil War were Brooklyn and New Orleans.

That little bit of history behind me, I repeated myself for the third time after asking this person where she is from. Florida. That explains everything. Too much orange juice. Too much beach life, Too many really good drugs.

I don’t know if any of that is true. But, something was getting between my speech and her hearing. Eventually, it worked out.

Monday is not the day for that kind of weirdness. I am usually very, very busy. Yesterday was no different. I have no idea how people get bored during this time in our isolation bubble. Maybe it’s because I feel like I have all the time in the world so I take my time and work through everything more completely.

How about you?

Stay safe. Enjoy every sandwich.

Published by Ray Laskowitz

I am a visual storyteller. I've been making pictures for some 40 years. I travel the world in search of the right image. in the right light at the right time. You can reach me by phone at 505.280.4686, or by email at Ray@Laskowitzpicturess.com or Pictures34@me.com. For a quick look at my work please go to www.laskowitzpictures.com.

8 thoughts on “Awaiting On You All

  1. That’s funny. I was thinking about communication. And yes, miscommunication happened to me this weekend. That was in an email exchange. Sooo uncomfortable. It could be the astrological signs are in opposition just now. LOL

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    1. Email exchanges can be terrible because you can’t see the other person’s face. So too, telephone conversations like the one that I had. What still mystifies me as how some could hear the complete opposite of what I said… three times. Sheesh.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re not from Florida. You’re like me. A northerner trying to act like someone from the south. Around this place, I can never be from here. One daughter can claim that. In fact, to really be from here you really have have family who has been here for generations. Luckily, as I wrote, I sound like I’m from Brooklyn so I sound like a Yat. The way that people from here test you is to ask what high school you attended. With my accent, I usually jus say one from the &th Ward and they let me be. In fact, if you are eating in a restaurant in the Quarters usually the waitperson will ask where you are from just trying to make conversation. If you say from NOLA, they sort of test you. They ask about street names and high school. If you get that right, you get a 30% discount for being local.

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  2. Ray,

    I am a Californian by birth,Oregonion by choice and have lived in Washington since 1964, but I lived
    in Brooklyn near Flatbush Avenue in 1946 for several montrhs while my Dad was an engineering officer running
    midshipmen cruises to the Carriben for the Maritime Academy. We lived most of the war years on Catalina Island where my Day was the engineering instructor for the Maritime Academy. we moved back to the Los Angeles area then moved to Oregon where I grew up and graduated from high school.

    Like

    1. Hi. Hope you are still staying safe. I was born in Brooklyn but my dad was hell bent on moving west so we moved first to Los Angeles and later to Long Beach were I grew up. We used to travel east by train almost every summer so I learned to play stickball, other street games, play in the illegally opened fire plugs and so on. One day, I had to be somewhere. When I returned to my grandma’s apartment, we found out that the guys I hung with went up on the interstate and tossed cobblestones down on the highway. They hit a guy carrying lobsters. The driver skidded and the truck turned over. Lobsters everywhere. All of our neighbors ran up there. Nobody even looked at the driver, but teh street smelled like cooking shellfish.

      Like

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