Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The Hacker - Another Treasured Childhood Memory

Phlegm, and plenty of it. My dad was a heavy smoker. His bouts of hacking were truly impressive, and went on for hours. Thankfully, he quit when I was about six. I remember picking up a pack of his Pall Malls and carefully examining the heraldry on its crimson wrapper. Its crinkly cellophane, the silver foil inner sleeve, the seductive aroma of the tobacco within- all these sensations are as fresh to me today as they were then. I was a smoker myself in high school, quitting was relatively easy when I did it with the intent of establishing my non-conformity.

I've been working outside a lot these days, fixing the house siding and trim (coming along nicely, thank you), and I find myself within earshot of the neighbors for a good deal of the day. I've already mentioned the Mighty Ducks; the guy that feeds them (a twenty-something with tattoos, piercings and a goatee) is a hacker as well. The same type as my dad, with the same guttural urrrp-hack that my father perfected. All day long, every 4 or 5 minutes.

Should I say something? He's not the type for chit-chat, and my countenance is somewhat stern; might he be packing heat and take it the wrong way? He's young enough to still have the classic excuses- "a touch of bronchitis" "allergies" "getting over a cold"; I really don't have the inclination to get involved in any debates these days, much less pointless ones.

By Professor Batty


Blogger RS said...

I've been meaning to ask you this for some time now. Why did you revert to the grey? Was that summer dream meant to last for just one day?

Blogger Móðir, kona, meyja said...

Tell him he reminds you of your father. That should put a look upon his face.

Blogger Professor Batty said...

RS- I just couldn't stand all that brightness!

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