Lawrence L. Cook Jr.

Here lies my buddy, Larry. He hated his real name, Lawrence, it always felt too official he’d say. It’s funny looking down at the place where he now rests…his headstone is so neat and clean cut, so unlike how Larry was in person. Man, I remember so many times when I would have to bang on his front door and force him to open up just to make sure he was doing okay. I would find him lying on that grungy old orange couch, poker chips strewn around and half empty bottles lying on the ground around him. I’d try to lift him up, get him past his drunken morning, but he’d just look me in my eyes and laugh…laugh and shake his head and just grumble to himself how there’s no need to fix things. But I’d manage, after about an hour, to get him off that god-awful couch and shove his ass in the shower. I could never just leave him there feeling sorry for himself. As much as he seemed to go downhill all the time, I know there was that fun loving soul still in there and that’s what I would try to bring back out in him every time.

It’s funny now to think back with all my times with Larry and that be the first thing to come to my mind. It’s not like I chose to remember those times first…it’s just who he became towards the end. He’s been my buddy, my friend for over 30 years. It’s so strange now to know he is gone. Here I am, 76 years old standing in the freezing cold starring down at what his life is now. Larry would be 70 years old now. That seems old, but he never felt his age. I was 6 years older than him and I always felt like he kind of looked up to me. I felt like his big brother and he was my kid brother; best of buds. He was always young at heart.

I have to both laugh and sigh at what remains left of Larry, what words have chosen his life: “Ma loves Pa- Pa loves women. Ma caught Pa, with 2 in swimmin. Here lies Pa…” Shoot, he’d say this line all the time. Ever since his first wife Debbie divorced him he’d never been the same. He developed a love for different women and whiskey kind of overtook him. But, he still held a smile through most of it, joked about it all for the most part. Had kids with 3 different women, but man did he love all 5 of his children. Danny boy was his oldest and Larry sure did love him dearly. I think that’s what kept him going so long. I have to say, Danny kept us both going…helped me to keep going to Larry’s all those times and make him get his shit together again and again.

So here I stand with the chilled wind hitting my back, remembering who Larry turned out to be after all these years. He had some rough times throughout the years, but he sure was such a loving, fun, great guy. Great friend and father, too. The man loved his children and poker…the two things that made his eyes light up every single time. I sure do miss him. My buddy, my pal. Even though the wind blows today, I get out my five playing cards, a perfect straight flush in hearts…Here you go buddy, the best of the best for you…

The Reminder of a True Love

Kara stands in line at the Pioneer Theatre waiting for the doors to open at seven o’clock for the Reno Philharmonic Orchestra. She holds her new pride and joy baby boy, Andrew, close to her body. It helps that he is tightly wrapped up in his new baby sling, keeping him nice and close to his entire world of a mother. Glancing around at the other people standing in line with her she notices an older couple slightly glaring in her direction. A bit confused, Kara quickly turns away from their tight looks. Faintly, but loud enough, she hears that same couple say to each other, “Is she seriously bringing a baby to a symphony? She really should not have come with a baby that will be screaming and disturbing every single person here to enjoy the music!” Baffled and hurt by their words that she knew they meant for her to hear, she slowly drops her head down to her precious son that lay tight against her body and gently brushes her finger on his delicate cheek.

Seven o’clock finally comes around she enters the Pioneer Theatre Concert Hall and is immediately reminded of why she had come tonight. A feeling of loss and love overwhelm her and at that very same moment Andrew starts to make a bit of a fuss in her arms. Taking Andrew out of his comforting baby sling she holds Andrew close to her and lightly pats the small of his back. She finally finds her seat in the general admission section and sits down in the red velvet chairs. Settling Andrew upright on her lap she bounces him slowly to distract him from being so fussy. Out of no where the concert hall lights dim and a thin beautiful woman walks onto the stage and welcomes the crowd and explains that the Reno Philharmonic Orchestra will start in just five minutes.

Still bouncing Andrew on her knee, Kara notices yet another couple staring at her a few rows to the right of her. Sighing at their looks, she knows what they must be saying to each other– exactly what the couple in line said earlier. She glances down at her baby boy, at his round blue eyes and perky pink lips and sadness starts to overflow her mood. She quietly tells Andrew, “People just don’t understand. Andrew, you are all I have now, and you are my love and my life. You are so well behaved and I feel honored that you have the same love for classical music as I do and as your father did as well. You would have loved your father…we met at this very concert hall and just fell more and more in love with each other each time we enjoyed a concert together. You have his eyes and his beautiful lips…Your father would have loved nothing more than to be here with you and I right now in this very concert hall.”

With tears swelling up in her green eyes, she picks up her baby boy and holds him close, kissing his delicate cheeks, ignoring the glances from the couple a few rows away. She has nothing but the happiest and loving memories of her husband, Drew. She lost Drew just weeks after she found out she was pregnant. It’s been a year now and she couldn’t be happier holding their baby boy so close to her, a piece of Drew that she will always hold dear. As the red curtains slowly pull away from each other and the orchestra starts their first piece of music, Kara is overwhelmed with memories of her true love and smiles as she imagines him sitting there in those red velvet seats next to her and their son taking in the beauty of the orchestra.

An Old Beauty

Danielle entered the back stage of the concert hall dressed in her long black velvet dress. Her bow kept coming undone and she had to re-tie it over and over again. But she liked the distraction– anything to keep her mind off of her nerves going crazy at that moment. Exploring the back music room she finally finds her old violin case propped up against the mirrored wall. With a small sigh of relief she strolls over to the scraped up black case. She finds an older looking wooden chair and sits down with it loudly creaking underneath her.

Unzipping her violin case she starts to smell a familiar and almost comforting smell. The wood of her violin fills the air around her and immediately puts a smile onto her face. She has been playing the violin for eleven years now, ever since she was a young girl. It was the one thing she could count on getting her mind off of the troublesome years she went through while growing up.

Other members of the orchestra start to fill the small music room, all searching for their own instruments as well. But Danielle does not even notice the moving of the bodies around her. Her focus is on her worn violin. She focuses her attention on the thin stripes of wood carvings on the face of her violin going from the neck to the bass of the instrument. How the color of the wood around the chin rest is now starting to fade due to the constant playing, and how underneath the bridge sitting atop the violin there’s a pile of caked-on rosin from the bow playing on the four strings.

Tuning her violin, Danielle notices on the clock that there’s just three minutes left until her and the rest of the orchestra members have to be settled on stage before the concert starts. With her sheet music in hand her heart begins to beat fast in her chest, making her nerves feel like buzzing bees in her body. The music conductor quietly hurries over to the group and whispers, “We’re on in one minute. Have your sheet music ready to start with Antonín Dvořák’s ‘New World Symphony.’” Racing to her spot on the stage all Danielle can hear is her heart beating loudly. Her music is set out and with a shaky hand she holds her violin and bow sitting on her lap waiting for the concert to begin. Slowly the red velvet curtains begin to pull away from each other, leaking bright lights onto the orchestra, framing them in place.

The conductor raises her white wooden baton and the orchestra members raise their beautiful shinning instruments in playing position. With three swift movements of the baton the music begins to sound. In that very instant Danielle’s nerves have been covered over by excitement and adrenalin. The people in the crowd watch in awe as the concert hall is filled with the beautiful sounds of the wooden stringed instruments. On each side of the stage are pillars with sculpted women with delicate smiles on their soft faces. They smile at the serenity of the music and the beauty of their concert hall that holds such a gathering.

Young Soul Emerges

He sits in that old sunken chair
Clothed in old western button up shirts
Boots stretched to fit his swollen feet
His hair peppered with grey
Hands stiff with age
Yet his voice is strong
Telling of the old days
Joking constantly
Humor deep within
His eyes sparkle when he tells his stories
His stiff body moves with excitement
Color appears onto his face
A lightness of being he becomes
An old soul overshadowed
By a true young man he is still
And always will be

Another Chapter In This World

Sometimes I am boldly reminded why some days are like this one: again in this same spot, the same routine. A technically bland existence experiencing another passing day. I read a few more chapters while I sit in this room. I’m worried about who isn’t going to return my calls this week while it passes into the next. Though it doesn’t really matter since I am finally getting used to this mess I’ve made for myself.

I sit in this empty abyss of a room, still and stark. A few more chapters in a book I relate to, a book I call Life. I can escape from the truths and reality surrounding me. Putting this so called life I’ve made for myself on hold. I try to feel at home here, sitting with my back against the wall and taking deep breaths. I want someone to ask me how my day has gone. Instead I go right into this huge vacant space and I’m left alone in a time of silence.

A need for sound. Anything to block these thoughts of nothingness. Another chapter and I can escape into something that does not seem so far away or timeless. I need to speak my words to anyone who will listen. Yet no one is around to hear my voice. So here I sit, closed tightly in this colorless space. I make connections with the characters on the pages, trying to put myself in their own small world. A change of position and finally a familiar feeling of contentment arises.

Yearning For A Love

Trying with all that I have,
thinking of ways
to let you know I care.
It’s one of the most
difficult situations of a
possible friendship
life has ever thrust upon me.
Keep positive and hopeful,
never giving up.
I dream of the day
I can embrace you
in my arms and call you
something true.

Drowning In Hope

The earth is soiled
with tears from above
aching beneath the roots
of tender plants slowly being choked
with heartache and hope.

Dreaming of forgiveness
and life to be had
never feeling it even touch
the skin of those who are in need.

Dirt scraped across
the foreheads of children
lost in the hope of life
yearning for the earth to
start living again.