In his own inimitable fashion Bro Meagher has drawn a rather long bow in his entries... so, to celebrate his "individuality" in his take on the subject here is a copy of His first submission, loosely titled "Hemmingway, Non-Mason". We will endeavour to put his other two submissions up over the coming week.
Hemmingway, Non-Mason
The man arrived home.
As usual he found his house empty.
He took off his loafers and placed them into the shoe shelf of the cloak cupboard.
Jacket into the cupboard, on the appropriate hanger.
Keys went into the bowl on the sideboard.
It all had a place.
In a linen shirt, Nantucket red pants and socks he meandered through his house to let his dog inside - he craved company, any company.
He had been having a rough time and it was showing.
Man and dog arrived in the front room, where the man began to leaf through a women's magazine of indeterminate age… he noticed that every time he leafed through these mags, the stories were pretty much exactly the same: updates on random members of the many European royal families laced with diet ideas, actress’ movements and affairs & of course the obligatory models in swimwear… admittedly, he did like the swimwear pictures…
Inspite of his dislike of the magazine he continued to read on until the need for a drink prompted him to stop.
The man found himself standing at his bar.
It was a nice bar. He had stocked it well with all manner of offerings to Bacchus.
Tonight the Bacchanalia was Gin & Tonic.
He sipped and thought.
His dog, George, the scruffy, yet rakishly urbane Jack Russell Terrier was the only witness to his libations.
The man thought on:
How nice it was when he was a part of the netball club when his daughter was playing.
How nice it was to run the BBQ and see the small winnings transferred to the club to buy small things for the girls.
He ruminated more about his footy fund raising for Junior, or running the barbecue for little miss’s netball club.
How grand just being part of the team was.
Oh how he missed it all.
“You know George, I am not That old… I still have plenty of life left in me yet, you know”. George didn't reply, he just twisted his head to the side in the way that a noble Jack Russell terrier does. “I Just seem to be at something of a loose end…”
George twisted his head to the other side as if to say “ Well, a being a very busy person will do that to a man.. .”
The man interrupted Georges reply: “... I just seem to be living an empty life… I just don't have any mates to talk to!”
George snorted & scratched his right front shoulder and insinuated “well thanks for ignoring your best Canine friend EVER... “ he sat down and looked hopefully at the man “Aren't I your mate?”
“Well yes old boy,” the man replied as he bent to stroke his sporting quadrupedal friend, “But I need a HUMAN mate to talk to… you know the same way that you chase cats with Barry the Whippet from down the road
“Oh Yes!” George snorted as he sniffed at a bone “I understand… and no offence taken in that circumstance”
“I thought that you'd understand” the man thought. Here we are, again, Monday night and here I am, third Gin and Tonic before dinner. To be honest I am beginning to feel like the protagonist in an Ernest Hemingway novel… machismo, booze and conversations. .. Including conversation s thats are just all a one way affair… no offense old mate “ he added so as not to upset George.
“No Worries old Mate” George's head and Tail indicated
The man felt for his phone. He had become quite fond of Facebook… he found that he could keep up with all sorts of people that he had met over the years. For some reason it didn't seem real. It did fill in a couple of minutes though.
After the Facebook session, the man had another gin and tonic. He mused some more. What is there that I can do to fill the emptiness of my life?
What is there that can keep the grey matter going? Where my friends will be as excited to see me as I them? Where I can enjoy a G&T in company - or not if I chose???
Where is it all? the man pleaded…
George looked on with his doggish dignity and intimated: “mate you need to join something,... I hear there are a heap of ladies down at the dog walking park, maybe that would help?” he wagged his tail at his intimated suggestions. ..
“Oh gosh, No” the man replied. “Mate I need more. Mate, I need fraternity, a group of men that don't care about money, as such, meeting without the Pluto’s hefty shadow clouding the event.
The man asked vainly “Where can I just hang out with the fellas and enjoy the company of the fraternity “
“Somewhere where I can forget about the problems of life for a couple of hours… maybe with some music too… oh if only…”
George looked on hopefully as it was getting close to dinner time.
“Oh well” said the man in a way that was obliquely directed to George “I suppose I will just have to have another gin and tonic… and watch the TV… yes, that is the Go!… I think there’s a new show on that everyone is talking about…”
George did not look happy with the current line of conversation.
George sneezed in disgust and walked over to his dinner bowl. He wagged his tail as he looked up at the man.
“Oh yes, dinner time… I had best feed you” the man said… The man mused: And how nice would it be for me to have a casual meal occasionally, And chew the fat over the events of the last month in an equally casual way.
“If only…” the Man mused.
And so the night went on…
George supervised it all. He knew that some of the other dogs masters were Freemasons and didn’t have these sort of problems, he tried to tell the man this… but George was a dog after all, and he couldn't tell the man any of it.
And this rather sad story is the reason that Freemasonry is relevant to the modem man.
So Mote it Be!
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