LFS: The Storyteller

©2013 by LeeZard Everyone thinks their pet is the cutest, the smartest, the funniest, etc. And, everyone is right, of course. To quote Rod Serling, I submit for your consideration Tex the Texas Bobtailed Cat. Both of my faithful readers will remember that Tex adopted me several years ago at a cowboy wedding near Cleburne, TX. He is indeed a bobtail, a breed called “Pixy Bob.” I’m not very pixy oriented so I call him the Texas Bobtailed Cat. My research told me they are boisterous – Tex does have a lot to say – and very athletic. One website calls them “the sports car of cats.” All of about 10-11 pounds, Tex’s hind legs are slightly longer then his forelegs with very muscular thighs (do they call ‘em that on cats?). He’s amazingly quick and jumps like a kangaroo. His build also gives him this jaunty little walk that absolutely fits his personality. He sashays around with "cattitude ;"  he knows how cool he is. Like any pet (or human for that matter) Tex

©2013 by LeeZard “So, what DOES pepper spray smell like?” It was a timely query because I was running through heavy clouds of the stuff in downtown Seattle, fighting to clear my eyes, nose and head while glued to my cell phone, airing a live radio report. “I’m not sure I can describe it, Dave. I’ve never smelled anything like it before. I can only tell you that it stings and burns like acid. I do know, though, I will never forget what it smells like; I feel like it is filtering through my clothes and soaking through my skin.” It was the end of November 1999, mid-afternoon on the first day of what was supposed to be Seattle’s “coming out” as a world city. We were hosting thousands of international delegates to the World Trade Organization (WTO) -- a summit to set the agenda for international commerce. We also were hosting thousands more anti-WTO protesters — labor, environmental, political and ethnic groups from all over the world. Months of anticipation and planni

©2013 by LeeZard NOTE: I’ve written before about growing up in Laurelton, NY ( http://leezardonlife.blogspot.com/2008/12/corner.html ) but the piece was about a specific spot in Laurelton and the high school to which we all went. This story is about one man, a small almost anonymous man, and the large impact he had on us all. --- Sometimes the mind wanders. Recently mine was wandering down memory lane, back to the section of South Queens in New York City where I grew up. My mind takes me there often. It’s called Laurelton and to those who grew up there it was a magical place. I can’t tell you why but I do know that many of the friendships born there endure to this day. Located in the southeast corner of Queens, Laurelton was, and still is, a working middle-class area with mostly small well-kept single-family homes and a strong sense of community. Maybe that was the source of the magic; we were closely knit and we all cared about the place and its people. Whenever I