I Have Gas
By G. E. Shuman

“Look at that! Gas went up again!” My loving, if somewhat aggravated wife said as we drove past a station recently.
“It’s okay. You got gas yesterday.” I replied. “And last week it went down. Remember?”
“But it’s the same gas in their tanks that was in there yesterday, and now they’re charging more for it.” She said back.
“I know. It’s something to do with the prices oil companies have to pay for their future purchases. At least that’s what some news report said.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t either.”
My wife and I have had several similar ‘heading-down-the-road’ conversations about gasoline, over the past few years. If you remember, there was a time, only months ago, when everyone was talking about the price of gas. You couldn’t turn on your TV without seeing video coverage of a perfectly still and silent gas pump, with those awful, ever-ascending price per gallon numbers displayed on top of it. By the way, when gas costs three dollars a gallon, what’s the deal with the ‘point-nine?’ You know, $2.69.9 per gallon. (Many years ago an old man I was acquainted with, who happened to be a Soviet-era communist, said that the ‘point nine’ stuff was “capitalistic nonsense.” That point is probably the only thing he and I would ever agree upon.) So, maybe the news networks have decided that they have finally taken enough video footage of gas pumps. Or, perhaps they simply know we have all gotten used to what the oil companies are charging us at those familiar looking pumps. Whatever the truth is, there is not much in the news lately about the price of gas. And, if you notice, no one seems to be talking about it anymore. Well, no one except for my very observant wife. Of course, I could be wrong about this. (That has happened once or twice before.) Maybe we just can’t hear those other couples on the road fuming over gas prices because of the combined effects of window glass and engine noise.
I’m not much of a fighter. I’m not a pacifist, but have stopped grumbling about and worrying about big oil and big numbers at the gas pumps. I know that makes me a lousy excuse for a Vermonter, but, like several of our state’s politicians, I do have an excuse for being different. I’m a transplant. Besides, I see little point in worrying about things I have no control over. My family drives economical cars and we have eliminated extra trips to the mall (thankfully) and to other places. I have yet to see the down side to that. We are conservative by nature and upbringing, (I told you I’m a lousy Vermonter.) and we try to not waste what we have. Wait a minute. I would think that would make us liberals. Hum… back to the subject of gas.
My point is that it makes no difference at all how much gasoline I purchase at any one time. If I keep the tanks of my vehicles full or empty, that has no effect on the amount of gas I use. When I need gas, I buy it. When I buy gas, I need it. So I use what I need, and I need what I use. When I buy it I try to not spill on my shoes. (Eat your heart out, Dr. Seuss.) To complete my confession, I usually stop at the gas station, I mean the convenience store, (Pardon my ancient terms.) which seems to be the cheapest in the immediate area. I will not drive even a mile to save five cents a gallon. With my age and medical history that’s not worth my time. I will also not buy gas at a place that never fills their pump receipt paper rolls, any more than I would stop at a rest area which didn’t keep their type of paper dispensers full.
No, I don’t panic over the profits of big business, big pharma or even big oil. I shop at Wal Mart. If that company does retail best, why shouldn’t they get the profit? I use prescription drugs. Lipitor has, likely, saved my life. Thank you, Pfizer. And, yes, I also have gas.

Winter Workday
By G. E. Shuman

Early morning; crunching snow
Brush the car so we can go.
Biting COLD; whipping breeze
Back inside, before I freeze

Engine running, waiting, warming
Fighting off the early storming
Distant sounds of tires spinning;
Off-to-work-time battles winning.

Shovels shoveling, blowers blowing
Plows keep plowing, progress showing
Trucks-a-salting, seasoning lanes,
Melting, mounting slushy gains.

Fight the flakes; confront the foe.
Press on forward, as you go,
To the job which must be done.
Face the battle to be won.

Snow keeps coming, workday waning
Skid on home without complaining.
House in sight, now caution, please
In the driveway… mind at ease

Burners blazing, supper-making,
Kitchen warmed by bubbling, baking
Silent snow still softly falling
Cozy comfort; bedtime calling

Wood fire scaring chills away
Crackling flames to end the day
Curtains pulled; doors locked tight
Perfect Vermont winter night