Friends of the Earth

My friend Laney and I were out in my back yard the other night enjoying the fine spring weather by the light of fire cast off by burning my pile of old tires.

"Jeese", Laney said, "This is the life."

"Ain't it tho?" I answered. "Slosh some more of that there diesel on the fire now."

"You got it Munkay. While I'm at it I'll get a start on this pile of insulation. This pink stuff makes such pretty rainbow flames."

"Ok, kick some more of those tar shingles off our old shed to turn it up a notch"

"I love the outdoors", Laney proclaimed.

We sat back once again to relax and enjoy the black angle wing plumes billowing out high above our heads reaching it's strangle hold towards the stars.

"Yeah man. I'm all about this county living", I replied, stuck by the sheer wonder of nature as soon as the oily smoke wafted away from my face.

"Too bad we always have to wait till dark to do this. Everyone should be able to enjoy our beautiful black mushroom cloud", Laney admonished tossing her empty beer can into the flames.

"Oh no, my friend. The old ways are gone. All that is left is that we remember the rituals of the past. The traditions of our fathers, and our fathers father, and our fathers fathers fathers
be fore.."

"Alright Already!", Laney shrieked wistfully at me.

"Those were the good times," I continued for the benefit of my kids who had pulled up the car seat next to me and handed us fresh beer.
"Piles of garbage in your yard ment you were affluent, and could afford to buy new stuff see. The bigger your dump, the more you had. Family would get together with their hauling crap. Trucks by the numbers carrying all sorts of junk. You never heard of some kid getting locked in a freezer hell no. We'd burn the shit out of them, or toss them in the lake."

"My dad", Laney's eyes grew bright at the mention of water, leaned forward staring hard at the smoldering goo, "Hell he'd have us kids fill up the back of his old Ford, and then we'd watch him load it on his fishing boat..."

"Laney's dad, fished for a living. Buzzy was one of the last commercial fishermen on Lake of the Woods", I told the boys.

"You remember my dad?", Laney asked me, her eyes glistening from the memories or the gas.

"Course I remember old Buzzy. How did he ever get that name?"

"He used to drive his fishing boat full throttle drunk as a skunk . But we never called him that. He was always just dad. But that is a different story."

"Go on", the boys chorused, eager to hear more.

"Anyway dad would load up everything he couldn't burn on the back of his truck as all us kids watched.."

"How many were in your family Laney?"

"There were thirty-seven of us kids, being Catholic and all. And then my gramma who had the fishing resort always had lots of junk."

"Laney you had a big family", I reminisced. Laney's face had brighten and appeared young again before our very eyes as she continued with her story.

"Us kids would watch my old man, drunk as he could be, toss shit off the side of his boat for hours. Never let us help a once, would he. He was scared one of us would fall in and drown. We all would crowd around him as he talked.."

"He could talk and toss?"

"Talk and toss. "You kids stand back your getting to close to the edge now, eh." And we would answer him, "Close eh?" So he'd know we were all safe."Fish, drink and toss shit, Buzzy could. But he just couldn't swim."

"He was a craftsman, you dad."

"An artisan."

"Eh."

"Eh."

"They state banned commercial fishing to boost the tourism up north."

Laney when all quiet for a while. Then she stood up and grabbed the computer monitor next to her and hoisted it up high above her head before throwing it into the fire where it crashed sending an impressive amount of yellow sparks into the night air.

"That was the shame of losing our God giving right to get rid of our junk. We picked up after our selves didn't we?"

"That we did, Laney, that we did."

"Now there is trash everywhere. Broken glass, don't get me started on graffiti."

"Eeh."

"Eh."