Day 2 of my 2025 Project

Today's seed words were Trump - deportations - plan.

2025 Project 

2025 Project

 This is how my 2025 Project will work. I will do a daily Google news search for "Trump." I will capture the first two improper nouns and search that three word phrase for an AI image. I will post that image. For example: "Trump - opinion - term" produces this:

Pipe Pouch

This is one of my favorite things. It’s a pipe pouch made of deerskin. It has a slot along the top for storing pipe cleaners, a little pouch on the inside for my pipe tools and lighter, and a nifty string that goes around it to wrap it up tight. It also has a stain on the front flap so I can “tell people you stole it off a dead cowboy.”

That’s from the homeless guy who made it for me.

I met him in the courtyard of a coffee shop on the corner of a busy-ish street in downtown Cape Girardeau. It was the summer of 2016. I stopped in for a latte and to gather my nerves. He was sitting at one of the tables outside with a whole manner of crafty shit spread out in front of him. He told me how he wouldn’t sell any of his bow and arrow sets until he had shot the bow 70 times. He told me how he made and then broke in the moccasins he was selling to passers-by.

I visited at that shop a few more times that summer and I was always glad when he was there. We talked about politics, religion, sex, and all the other stuff you’re not supposed to talk about in casual company. Meanwhile, his dog, a lab named Ginger, would dash around and harass the other customers. They didn’t mind, she was a sweet dog who just wanted to say hi. Nevertheless, our conversations were constantly interrupted with him yelling, “Ginger, get over here! Leave that lady alone.”

Maybe the third time we met, and after watching him make moccasin after moccasin, I told him that my pipe case had recently fallen apart and maybe he could make me a new one. He was all over it.

A few days later he had it done. It was perfect.

We continued to get together. He told me about the time he got a bad cut on his leg on the road in Wichita. It went septic and he had to spend time in the hospital, which he hated. I told him about my recent divorce and my plans for the future. All the while he was yelling at his dog - “Ginger, stop that!” - and stitching leather.

He drifted away at the end of the summer.

A month later I met a ginger with a bunch of dogs, one of which was named Ginger. We got married the next year.

Anyway, this pipe pouch is one of my favorite things.

Teddy Bear

I like to give people rides. If I see someone hoofing it and the stars are aligned I’ll pull over and offer them a lift. It’s a good way to meet some interesting people.

The last time was a couple of days ago, December 26, Boxing Day, to be exact. I really don’t know what Boxing Day is, exactly, I just know it’s a thing in some English speaking countries.

Anyway, because of the holidays I got off work earlier than expected. It was mid-afternoon and there was a heavy fog nestled on Kansas City. I took a meandering route home, stopping occasionally to take pictures.

Once I’d had enough and just wanted to get home I pointed my car north - couch-ward. I was in a part of town that I didn’t know well. I saw a woman loaded down with backpacks, bags, and satchels. I noticed a long loaf of bread poking out of one of her bags. This is a woman who’s been shopping and, for whatever reason, is having to walk home on a chilly, damp day. This is a person to whom I should give a ride, I told myself.

Her story was different.

“Do you want a ride?”

“Oh, yes, sir!”

There was no hesitation. No, ‘Are you sure?’ Just ‘Hells yah!'

She danced around to the passenger side and, without adjusting any of her ponderous baggage, dropped herself into the seat. Face-forward, she didn’t say anything as if I knew where she needed to go. I drove in the general direction she had been walking until the first stop sign.

“Which way?”

Meanwhile my phone’s GPS was barking rerouting instructions. It was muffled and frantic under the pile of stuff I’d chucked in the back seat in order to give her room.

“Left.”

“Oh, my name is Bryce, by the way.”

We shook hands. Silence.

“And, what’s your name?”

“I don’t remember.”

It’s wasn’t bread in her bag. It was a teddy bear. I realized she wasn’t bringing shopping home. This was everything she owned. She didn’t shift her bags when she sat down because they are always on her. She wears them like clothing.

Her face was mottled and weathered. She was young, probably early thirties, but she’d been living hard for a long time.

“Do you want some water?”

“No.”

“I have some food. I have a peanut butter and jelly if you’d like.”

“No. Do you have any drugs?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Any pot?”

Isn’t pot a drug?

“No, sorry, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Oh. Left.”

We took three lefts. I wondered if she was leading me into some kind of ambush. Just for a moment. Of course she wasn’t. What would be the plan there? Wander the streets with all your possessions on your back until some naive dude picks you up then steal, what, his driver’s license?

Finally, she said turn right. I said I can’t, it’s one way the other way.

“It’s just a sign.”

I looked around. This was an empty part of the city. The few houses were boarded up, crumbling. The right turn led us to a T intersection. Straight ahead was a path leading into a wooded area. The path was littered with moldy clothing, an abandoned shopping cart, trash bags...you’ve seen it.

“This is it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. My partner is in there. Come with me. We’ll party. He wants to meet you. He talks better than me.”

“Oh, thanks. I can’t. I need to get home.”

I regretted saying the H-word immediately.

“Yeah, come on. He can tell you.”

“Isn’t there somewhere else I can take you? Do you know somewhere warm?”

“No, I’m safe here.”

She asked me where I lived. I gave her a vague description of the house that Sara and I are renting. She asked about Sara and, again, invited us to stop by to party.

Playing with the buttons on the radio she asked how much I paid for the car. I told her. She said it’s nice. It’s warm. I let her sit for a while. I held her hand for a little bit. She looked like someone who needed to be touched.

I hope it helped.

She broke my heart. She was clearly confused, probably drug addled. I told her to please stay warm. I only had three dollars on me, which I gave her along with a lighter. She was far more grateful for the lighter.

I watched her walk up the path to whatever it is that is her place. She disappeared into the trees.