I had a good day today. First I went to the bank to make a withdrawal. My bank is a really pleasant small bank in an old historic brick building. The kind of place that makes you feel good just walking into. The fancy woodworking inside is a pleasure to lay one's eyes on. Once finished there I drove through the rain to the store to get some things I'd need to continue the restoration of my old Edwardian era home. I picked up some polyurethane so I could paint a protective coating onto the newly restored columns on my front porch. I didn't want any moisture to get in and what better way to seal it? I also picked up some dark walnut stain so I could put a finish on the leg of a night stand that I'd recently repaired. Nothing like painting in my kitchen on this rainy day. A rainy day courtesy of the leading edge of remnants from Hurricane Katrina.
As he clung to the tree he watched what appeared to be a scene from his worst nightmare.
“The houses around me were just disappearing,” he said.
Spencer spent the next four or five hours clinging to it until neighbors, Anne Anderson and Vernon Lacour, found him as they arrived to check on their home, which also was washed away.
I turned on the little AM-FM radio that my father used when he would work outside in his landscaping business. Reports were coming in from all over detailing the devastation that Katrina had ravaged upon the Gulf Coast. I was relieved to be insulated from that tragedy and I listened intently while painting...
Frank Mills was in a New Orleans boarding house with three elderly residents when water started swirling up to the ceiling.
Mills, 56, made for the front door but an elderly man went to a bedroom to retrieve something, and a woman went to help him.
“And when I saw her in the hallway, she was floating face up,” Mills told The Associated Press on Tuesday, adding that he never saw the other man again.
The steady rain continues to tap on the roof as I make my way to the living room and the decorative fireplace. The finish could use some touching up in spots so I begin applying the clear finish to the dark wood. It goes on smoothly and I can tell it will be beautiful when completely dry.
"The house just split in half. We got up the roof and the water came and just opened up, divided," still visibly shaken Mr Jackson told America's ABC television.
"My wife, I can't find her body, she gone."
"I held her hand tight as I could and she told me 'you can't hold me'. She said, 'take care of the kids and the grandkids'," Mr Jackson said.
"We have nowhere to go. I'm lost, that's all I had, that's all I had. I don't know what I'm going to do."
Now all that was left to do is wait for the finish to dry. I might just read or catch up on the news while I enjoy the rest of this blissful and relaxing rainy afternoon. Yes, I had a good day today.
I was doing some yard work the other day, you know, pruning the rosebushes then sweeping out the driveway. Jackson had positioned himself on the cement in front of the car in his usual Sphinx-like pose. I worked in my usual leisurely manner, occasionally looking over at him to check on his whereabouts. His whole existence these days seemed to focus on not being alone. If you went outside to do some work he was there with you, if you went inside to sit in the living room he was right next to you in whatever chair you were in. Of course when I would retire to my inner sanctum to work on the computer he had to stay behind in the living room as he was forbidden to go into that part of the house. So he would lay himself down in a strategic spot where he could keep an eye on me if I should open the door to my rooms. If the door was open he would stare in my direction, ever hopeful that I would emerge to take him on a walk somewhere. But today I was in his realm, outdoors in the fresh air where he loved to be so much. I made my way over to the toolshed to grab some shears when I noticed that Jackson's attention was riveted on something. Across the road there was a pickup truck that had a dog in the bed, tethered there by a leash which is required these days under California law. It appeared to be a Boxer, all lean muscle mass and short hair. The other dog's attention was focused on Jackson as well, it's neck pulling tight on the leash that kept it in the truck. And there they both stayed, posed like statues staring at each other, both fascinated with this rare visit by someone of their same species. I wondered sometimes if they ever got lonely for company from their own kind. I mean, I would if I belonged to some strange entity, I'd want contact with my own kind as would we all. Jackson's attention was still honed in on this new potential friend when suddenly the owner of the pickup truck appeared, got into the truck and sped away with his Boxer still looking longingly in Jackson's direction. Two ships in the night that would never meet. I approached Jackson and said: MOTLEYFOOL: You didn't move a muscle when that dog was looking at you. Were you afraid? JACKSON: Afraid? You kidding? I was in love. MOTLEYFOOL: What? That was a female? I didn't know... JACKSON: Are you kidding? Didn't you see the legs on her? Man! MOTLEYFOOL: I had no idea. JACKSON: Well, just because I've been snipped doesn't mean I can't look you know. MOTLEYFOOL: I suppose not. We all need some kind of company I guess. JACKSON: Yeah, but humans seem to be in control of things so we do what we're told. It's a strange life. MOTLEY: Hey, I was wondering where you learned the English language so well. You watch TV and seem to know what's going on in the world. JACKSON: Yes, I read too. I like The Christian Science Monitor for world coverage, USA Today for the national stuff. Call me shallow but I like the sound bite quality of the latter. MOTLEYFOOLFOOL: I can't believe this, you know how to read. How did this come about? JACKSON: I went to special school for gifted dogs. You saw Harry Potter right? MOTLEYFOOL: Sure. JACKSON: Just like that. It was a Hogwart's for dogs....Dogwart's. MOTLEYFOOL: I'm impressed. But what happened? How did you end up here with me? JACKSON: I flunked out. I was OK at most of the stuff but failed miserably at the book learning stuff like mortality, owner control, power snoozing, etc etc. MOTLEYFOOL: So they cut you loose and you ended up at the SPCA in Santa Cruz where I found you right? JACKSON: Yup. And I'm so glad you took me in, I think they were going to put me to sleep real soon. I don't know what that means but it sounded bad. MOTLEYFOOL: It means that they were going to kill you to make space for another dog that might have a better chance of finding a home. JACKSON: See? I don't get that. What is kill? What does it mean? MOTLEYFOOL: It means to cease living, to die. Didn't they teach you that at Dogwart's? JACKSON: I'm good at many things Motley, but this is my weak area. MOTLEYFOOL: Tell you what....I'll teach you all about that one day soon. It's a painful lesson though, you'd better be sure you want to know about this. JACKSON: I'll try my best Motley, tell me everything you know and don't spare my feelings. I'm a big dog you know. MOTLEYFOOL: Ok buddy. Ready to go inside for a chewy treat? JACKSON: You bet! Oh... Motley? MOTLEYFOOL: Yes Jackson? JACKSON: If you see that Boxer anywhere downtown would you slip her my e-mail address? MOTLEYFOOL: Sure thing buddy, I'll be very discreet.
I've noticed my own tendency to use old expressions that have been handed down to me from my parents. I'm not sure when I started to notice this, it happens when I'm in a more reflective mood. They are as much a part of me as my accent or my personal history. One old saw I use frequently is "Used rough and put away dirty" which can be utilized for a myriad of uses. I believe the expression has it's beginnings in Depression era America. The country was more rurally oriented then with far more family farms than nowadays. When someone would lend their neighbor a shovel or a pick and sometimes it would come back in less than stellar condition. "Used rough and put away dirty" was something that came about to refer to a person who didn't take care of their things. I remember Pop using the expression for many things, usually for an inanimate object that someone had neglected. Of course, he would have taken much better care and kept the thing in question in pristine condition until doomsday. There were times when he would refer to a person in the same way. I made him laugh once when I refered to less than attractive woman as "Used rough and put away dirty" and indeed I could refer to many people in my neighborhood in much the same way. Another expression I've found myself uttering is "Fair to middlin" in response to the rather automatic penchant of people to ask "How are you?" "Fair to middlin" I would respond which in hindsight seems to say nothing at all. Another way to say "Not bad" or "Can't complain". But I'm not interested in the rather generic responses, I'm much more intrigued with expressions that predate my existence and find their roots in the world of my parents and their parents before them. I've taken to the expressions naturally, like being brought up in a certain church or faith. It's not something I wear for a day, it's part of my makeup and isn't something I could get rid of even if I wanted to. So I figured that I would keep these expressions alive as a tribute of sorts to those that came before me. Theirs was such a different world where someone's character could be summed up by how they took care of their things. On my desk in my office is an old Swingline stapler that my parents used in our household for years. It's standard military gray in color and looks brand new even though it's been around the house in regular use for fifty years. It's been "Used gingerly and put away clean". Nope, sorry. It just doesn't have the same ring. Looks like I won't be coining any lasting expressions anytime soon. Methinks it's better that way.
I finally saw the film Sideways last week. I enjoyed it very much but I didn't want to get into the relative merits of it. I thought it was a fine film, it made me laugh and the lead actors did a marvelous job. No, I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about California. The state I left exactly one year ago to move to Ohio. Actually I didn't just leave, I fled. I fled the high real estate prices, the congestion, the traffic and the bureaucracy. Moving to Ohio gave me the opportunity to buy an old historic home that in California would have cost me nearly ten times the price I paid. So I have no regrets about the move I made but I do still think about California. Wait, I think about Northern California very much as I'd lived there for most of my adult life. You can have SoCal, I have no use for it. Sideways follows two guys on a wine tasting tour through some of the Central Coast towns where many excellent wineries can be found. One of the guys, Miles, is a schoolteacher and failed novelist. The other, Jack, is his friend from college who is getting married in a matter of days. The trip is a sort of batchelor party for Jack and Miles is making sure his buddy has a great time in his last few days of freedom. They drive north on Pacific Coast Highway, then on 101 until they make a quick stop in Oxnard, (Oxnard!) of all places. You see, that's where I was living before I moved east. No, living is too good a word, I was dying there. I was out of work and watching my nest egg get depleted with every passing month's rent. I had lived in Oxnard twice before this current go 'round so I knew it well and I can say with all sincerity that I hated it far more this time. Anyway, they drive through Oxnard and they take the Vineyard Avenue exit which is the same street where I'd rented a storage unit for my belongings. I swear, the sight of the place made me feel like I'd never left and I don't mean that in a good way. Gave me the willies it did. Well first off, Miles is driving a red Saab Turbo Cabriolet with a black convertible top! That was the car I drove before my current one. Same color, same everything! They're driving my car dammit! But I digress. After they leave Oxnard it gets much better. They drive north of Pismo Beach and Santa Barbara until they pass Goleta and Solvang. We're almost far enough north to be in my old beloved stomping ground, the Central Coast. I've driven that highway so many times I think I could do it blindfolded. (Don't try that at home) The sights and sounds of 101 became second nature to me after all those many years, and I guess I even took them for granted. Seeing the same roads in the movie made me long for California again even though I had good reason to bail out of it when I did. The drawbacks to living in California were forgotten for two hours as I watched the adventures of these these friends drive north into my memories. Every freeway exit and every roadside diner I recognized. Each is a piece of my past now being used as a backdrop for a story about two friends. What is ironic is that one of my best friends here in Ohio is moving to California next month. His path requires him to go there and I can see that it's the best thing for him rather than stay here and stagnate. You have to know when to move on. It's one of the most valuable things one can learn in life's lessons. My friend is much younger than I and needs the opportunities that California can offer in the entertainment business. I'm middle-aged and more settled so my being in Ohio makes sense. I got out of California at the right time, my friend is going there at just the right time. Funny how that works.
Due to my upcoming sojourn to L.A. I thought it would be prudent to change the oil on the Mercedes. Since I'd recently purchased the car I really didn't know how long it had been since it had been changed so...down to Kragen I go, quickly finding the filter and the 6.3 quarts of 10-40 motor oil that I needed. Actually I bought 7 of them but who's counting. Driving down to the store does double duty as I want the car nice and hot while draining that old oil so I can get the most contaminants out possible. Pulling into the driveway I see Jackson waiting for me, I get out with the newly acquired stuff and I tell him what we must do. He nods in agreement and says he's ready to help. I go inside real quick to check e-mail and then change into my overalls which I use for auto mechanic work. They are the farmers style of overalls that Walter Brennan wore in "The Real McCoys", kinda goofy but I've had them since 1979 and I'm too sentimentally attached to them to throw them away. Originally I got them for a role in a play, they've served me well and I'll continue to keep them held together with denim iron-on patches until the end of time.
Now fully changed I quick marched through the living room and out the front door with my assistant mechanic, Jackson, at my side. The first item of business is to remove the old oil filter. I usually ask Jackson the technical stuff, he keeps up with these kinds of things and the notion of having a huge Newfoundland as my personal assistant is very appealing. I raise the hood to make a quick inspection while Jackson takes his usual position, lying Sphinx-like in the driveway just five feet away.
MOTLEYFOOL: Jackson? Where's the oil filter located on this car? JACKSON: I think you'll find it between the cam cover and the firewall Motley. Right up top there. MOTLEYFOOL: Oh yeah, I see it.
I grab the belt filter wrench and put it on the filter. These things usually come off with great difficulty and this one was no exception.
MOTLEYFOOL: Jackson? Why does Mercedes-Benz put these oil filters in the most God-awful locations? JACKSON: Beats me Motley, if you asked them I'm sure they'd have good reason. MOTLEYFOOL: Yeah, you're probably right. JACKSON: I'm glad you got this car Motley, I like the Benz's you know. MOTLEYFOOL: Really now? JACKSON: Oh yes, I'm hoping you'll let me ride in it soon. MOTLEYFOOL: Not on your life pal. JACKSON: Why not? I've been your faithful friend for more than 3 years now! MOTLEYFOOL: Remember the last time you were in my car? JACKSON: Yup, like it was yesterday. It was on the way back from the shelter in Santa Cruz. You were bringing me home for the first time. MOTLEYFOOL: Yes. And? JACKSON: And what? MOTLEYFOOL: Aren't you forgetting something? JACKSON: I don't believe so... MOTLEYFOOL: YOU THREW UP IN MY CAR YOU NINNY!!!! JACKSON: Oh that. MOTLEYFOOL: Yeah, THAT. JACKSON: I was upset. MOTLEYFOOL: I could tell. Care to elaborate? JACKSON: It was the first time I'd been away from Sparky! She and I had grown up together and I was really panicky. Besides, I can't help it if I get car-sick. MOTLEYFOOL: Then you won't mind if I don't let you in this car then? JACKSON: Very well. It coulda been worse ya know. MOTLEYFOOL: Really? You blow chunks all over my back seat and then say it could have been worse? How? JACKSON: It could have been the call of nature. MOTLEYFOOL: Got a point there.
The oil filter finally breaks free and now it's a simple matter of unscrewing it and getting it out of the way.
MOTLEYFOOL: There! That wasn't so bad. This is turning out OK. JACKSON: It's that German engineering. MOTLEYFOOL: What would you know about German Engineering anyway? JACKSON: I watch TV. MOTLEYFOOL: Oh good. Well if you appreciated German engineering so much why did you puke in the back seat of that other car? It was a BMW you know. THAT'S German too ya know. JACKSON: Look, I only puked on the floor. I did try to minimize the damage. MOTLEYFOOL: I thank you for that buddy. OK, the new filter is in. We can move on to draining the old oil out of here now. JACKSON: I believe you'll need a 13mm socket to remove the drain plug Motley.
I spread out the olive colored blanket on the cement, the one I use to work on cars. It still has the little blood stains of my old dog, Boris, and I think of him when I use that blanket. I get on the blanket and crawl as far as I can under the front of the car.
MOTLEYFOOL: Now where's that drain plug? I can't find it. JACKSON: On the driver's side... MOTLEYFOOL: Got it! Thanks. Jackson? Could you pass me that 13mm socket please? JACKSON: Sure. *He picks it up with his mouth and brings it to me* MOTLEYFOOL: Uh...Jackson? It has dog drool all over it, couldn't you just pick it up and give it to me? JACKSON: No Motley. MOTLEYFOOL: Why not? JACKSON: I don't have an opposable thumb and forefinger. *sigh* MOTLEYFOOL: Got a point there, sorry fella. Hey! You said you watch TV? What the hell do you watch? JACKSON: Oh you know, good stuff. Law and Order, The West Wing, stuff like that. MOTLEYFOOL: Hmmmm... JACKSON: Well, I gotta do something while you're on the computer all night. You're turning into a web addict you know. MOTLEYFOOL: OK OK. I'll spend more time with you. Happy now? JACKSON: Yup. *Wags big bushy tail* Uhhh....Motley? MOTLEYFOOL: Yes Jackson? JACKSON: I was hoping that you'd tell me about Boris. Your dog that came before me. MOTLEYFOOL: Oh...Boris. Yes Jackson, he was a Golden Retriever and I'll tell you all about him one day OK? JACKSON: K MOTLEYFOOL: OK, this is going well. I'll just put the drain plug back on and put the new oil in. We're almost finished boy.
Six quarts of fresh oil were chugged into the cam cover and all was done. Now to start it up and check for leaks. I slid into the driver's seat and hit the key, the car came to life and I got my flashlight and inspected all around the oil filter housing and underneath the car.
MOTLEYFOOL: Cool Jackson, and we didn't spill a drop anywhere. JACKSON: And the car sounds great Motley, gotta hand it those Germans. *I roll my eyes* Motley? MOTLEYFOOL: Yes Jackson? JACKSON: I don't want you to go to L.A. MOTLEYFOOL: But I have to Jackson, people are expecting me and I'm going to have a great time. JACKSON: I know, but no one will take me for walks. What will I do? MOTLEYFOOL: Well, I'll just give you some extra walks before and after I go, how's that? JACKSON: OK I guess. Can we go for a walk now? In the countryside? MOTLEYFOOL: Of course we can fella, let me get cleaned up.
And off we went into the bright glarey sunlight. It made no difference to him what time of day it was, he always threw himself into his favorite endeavor with reckless abandon. The trails we take are well known to us but you'd never know it by looking at him. The sheer joy of it all was apparent in him as if he was seeing these old roads and trails for the very first time. Something tells me that I could learn from him.
In April I took a trip to Boise. The trip had a dual purpose, to check out an old Victorian house I was considering buying and to also visit my old friend Dan who was as close a friend as I'd ever had. The house deal fell through but seeing Dan again was pricless.
We had met at a college football game at night in 1977 and we were both students at the local junior college. We became fast friends, I admired his intellect and his knack for grasping deep concepts. I think he liked how I made my way into various and diverse social circles (translation...he talks to a lot of chicks, how can I be like that?) We did college drama together, were on the college tennis team as doubles partners and hung out with others we deemed worthy of our esteemed company. We also shared an obsessive loyalty to the Los Angeles Rams and we knew the one day they would be led to the Promised Land. We spent less time together as the 80's came into prominence, he got married, had kids and I soldiered on as the confirmed bachelor. We still played a tough singles match every week and we matched each other's strengths perfectly, he was the perfect practice partner.
He moved to Boise back in 1999, and I think he got out of California at just the right time. The outrageous price of real estate and the ever growing population were making the California Dream into a bit of a nightmare. I missed him terribly and always had fond thoughts of our adventures in college as well as those times we shared the odd theory of the universe. He was after all, a former physics major. I saw him in the summer of 2000 when he came back to California for a visit and while he was staying at the in-laws we managed to sneak in another tennis match for old time's sake. Driving down the tree lined streets with the top down on my Saab Turbo Cabriolet and with Sarah Brightman's dulcet soprano surging in our ears we felt like the college boys we still thought we were. We didn't see each other again until April of 2004, I took a flight up to Boise and got to see his new city as well as consider it as a potential home for myself.
In my latest phone call with him this week he informed me that he was taking the whole family to California in their RV and planned on staying at nearby Carpinteria State Beach, could I join them? Of course! So I packed Jackson into the back seat and we both made the 30 minute drive up to Carpinteria, the quintessential California beach town if there ever was one. After negotiating the State Park's campground I finally found them all down on the beach, enjoying what seemed to me a perfect sunny day. This beach is the one that people think of when they envision the perfect beach. Clean sand and crystal clear blue-green water was laid out before me, contrasting markedly with the polluted shoreline of the beach that I presently called home.
Dan's brother, Alex, was there as well and I hadn't seen him in years. Dan asked if I'd brought my bathing trunks and I said that I hadn't. I had Jackson with me and I couldn't let him out of my sight so I felt I couldn't really have the luxury of going for a swim. I thought about about that for a second with some sadness, here I was about to move away from California, wouldn't body surfing be a great way to go out? I reversed my earlier refusal to swim and took him up on his offer for the spare swimming trunks. After a quick change we made our way towards the surf. Boldly running towards the waterline we almost felt like those athletic lads we once were, immortal and unafraid. Such bravado. The three of us taking on the surf, registering shock as the cold water washed over us, each of us getting used to that cold in his own way. Alex the methodical one, Dan jumping in all at once and me inching into the water oh-so-slowly. We timed some great waves for body surfing and took them as far as we could, paddling furiously, settling into the wave, right arm thrust out in front for balance. Beautiful! I hadn't felt such a rush of unbridled joy for many years, I almost forgot what it was like to have fun. More waves followed with each of us proclaiming that this next one could be the big one. It never was but we didn't know that. The next big one could be right over the horizon, just waiting for us to take it further than the last. Into the record books I tell ya, into the record books. At least a couple of them had been well worth the effort.
After about 25 minutes of this Dan says it's time for one last wave and then it hit me...this would be the last time I did something like this for a long time. My upcoming move to Columbus was ten days away. Who knows how many years it would be before I saw a beach in California again? If this was to be the last one then let's make it a good one! We skipped many swells, most of them not up to our lofty standards. Then the big one appeared and the three of us took it in unison as far as we could. While sprawled out in the sand after our ride we looked at each other and gave the thumbs up, it had been a thing of beauty and a very worthy farewell to California.
Let me tell you the story of how I bought my Snapper self propelled electric start lawnmower. This will go down as one of the great stories in my family history. OK, maybe not great, just amusing. Well...to me at least. When the weather finally warmed up about four months ago I went out to procure my first lawnmower. Jesus, I'm a homeowner. Anyway I had seen a used one for sale at a second hand store down on Parsons Avenue for 40 bucks. And this wasn't anything fancy, just a regular lawnmower with a pull rope start. No self propelled option or electric start. But it was good enough so I walked down to the store one Monday morning to get it. Upon my arrival I found that the store was only open on Fridays and Saturdays. I'm now officially annoyed. So I took off down Parsons to the South Side Cycle And Mower shop secure in the knowledge that they would have plenty of used ones to pick from. One of the mechanics there gave me the bad news that they had just run out of used mowers. Now I was really pissed off at myself. If I had acted sooner instead of waiting I wouldn't need it so badly. My lawn was a hayfield approaching critical mass and I wanted to get the damn thing done.
So I walked out of the mower shop completely dejected and annoyed to make the 2/3rds of a mile trudge back to my house. A couple of blocks down I noticed a guy standing outside his home in the nearby courtyard. He was dressed in overalls, looked around 60 years old and seemed to have quite a few garden tools there with him in his courtyard. I crossed the street but he had made eye contact with me well before I started to approach him. I walked up to the brick wall around the courtyard and I said hello and then proceeded to ask (out of the blue) if he had a lawnmower he could sell me. Without hesitation he said "Sure, right over here". I followed him feeling somewhat elated that I had just asked a total stranger on the street whether they had this arcane item that I needed so badly. I found out that this good fellow's name was Virgil and he indeed did have a lawnmower he could sell me. We brought the mower outside and he started it up, it worked perfectly. To make a long story short 50 bucks passed between us and I walked home pushing my newly acquired lawnmower. The lesson here is...ask and ye shall receive. The next time I'm on the street I want to ask a total stranger if they have a 1965 Aston Martin DB5 they could sell me for 500 bucks. Hey, it could happen.
A month later and the rains of winter are still upon us. With my dog Jackson at my side we traipsed off into the inclement weather once again. There was a break in this round of storms so we were going to make the best of it. Down by the riverbed we went, nothing but the dark sky and the sound of the wind whistling in our ears. Gone was the quiet expectation of an incoming squall. This was different, a break between showers that would only last for just so long. There was a yearning to get this over with, a slightly uncomfortable feeling that cold wind tends to give a person. Gone was the blissfulness of our earlier venture. Replacing it was the need to get out, to do something beyond the tedium and humdrum of the daily grind. There would be other blissful moments, they would come when they felt like it. It just came home to me that those moments can't be forced. They just happen, and then they're gone. Attempts to duplicate them usually fail, one cannot reach a state of bliss using a sledgehammer, subtlety and patience are required. Two things I have been woefully in short supply of lately.
JACKSON: You’re learning. MOTLEYFOOL: You know, I’m starting to rue the day that I found out you could talk. JACKSON: I know sarcasm when I hear it, you don’t scare me. MOTLEYFOOL: This is a funny life boy, there are times when you can’t miss. Things seem to fall into place effortlessly and without strain. At other times you can’t get buy a break. Weird huh? JACKSON: It’s a paradox Motley, in order to achieve you must give up trying to be impressive. When you give of yourself you become greater. When you give up wanting, great things come to you. See? MOTLEYFOOL: Wow Jackson, you sound very Taoist. JACKSON: I don’t know what it’s called but that’s how things work. MOTLEYFOOL: I guess labeling it would be a moot point. JACKSON: Sometimes labels are so unnecessary and superfluous. Best to concentrate on the deeper meaning of things. Now, about those dog biscuits...
My first memory of Nellie was in 1983 when I started working as a waiter at a Mexican restaurant in the town where I lived. She was an illegal Mexican national who found sanctuary among her family in their little ethnic neighborhood. She worked as one of the bussers in the restaurant and she could hardly speak a word of English. But Nellie learned fast and became brilliantly proficient in her second language. Soon we were sharing jokes and carrying on like old pals. She was only 13 years old then and one could tell right away that she was going to be really pretty when she finished growing up.
As the years went by I watched her grow into a beautiful woman. Her English was now nearly as good as mine. I smiled when she got her first boyfriend. Man, young lovers are such dorks. She had plans to go to school and I never doubted her desire to get ahead and make something of herself. This girl was determined! I think she wanted to go into communications and I realized right then that one day she would be making three times my yearly pay. Shocking to comprehend really. Oh well, maybe she'd feel pity for The Fool and give him a job one day.
It's funny how the fickle hand of fate can stop even the most determined among us. When Nellie was 18 or so she somehow found herself pregnant and being from the strict Catholic family she was, decided to have the baby. One of the other waitresses agreed to be her Lamaze partner and nine months later she went into labor on a night I was at work. I remember this other waitress, Lisa, came to work completely oblivious to the news that Nellie was having her baby. When she found out she dashed out the door in a panic to the hospital wondering why no one had told her. It all worked out alright though and a few hours later her new baby boy, Sean, was born. Later in life they would refer to him as Seaney.
Sean grew up fast and before long he was a nine year old with all the energy and rambunctiousness that nature could give him. Popular in school and active on the youth soccer team he looked like he was going far, just like his Mom. I remember seeing the little guy drop by the restaurant every day after school as it was along the way back to his house. Nellie doted on him and never regretted her decision to put her life on hold so she could bring Sean into this world and give him everything he needed. She told me once that nothing was going to stop her and that one day she'd get back on track to her studies to make something of herself so she wouldn't have to work in restaurants all her life like her mother. She had a plan and she would one day make it work.
Fate is a funny thing. It makes life easy for some and difficult for others and not once have I seen a shred of fairness to it all. One day Seaney felt more tired than usual and it didn't go away. His fatigue seemed chronic but when they took him to the doctor they were shocked to find out that he had leukemia. Little Sean was put on a course of chemotherapy treatments and he soon lost all his hair. His strength dissipated as well and for what seemed like ages he existed in a strange netherworld between the living and the dead. Not being able to run and play with the other boys he'd watch from the sidelines or on his bad days be confined to bed rest. Nellie held up well, coming to work and waiting on tables like the rest of us and never complaining about her lot in life.
It was touch and go for more than a year. After he turned 11 years old Sean seemed to have it licked. He was in remission and had managed to run the gauntlet into what seemed like a new lease on life. And that's how it went as friends and family breathed a sigh of relief as somehow they all had dodged a huge bullet and Sean looked like he was falling into clover. I thought to myself at the time how awful it must have been for this little kid to be thinking about life and death issues at his young age. I thought of Nellie and all she'd been through, having a child when she was a child herself, putting her big plans on hold as she took time out to raise her little boy. The love of her life. She's known more fear, love and pain in her young life than I had in mine and she did it with grace, dignity and class. But it was not over.
I had stopped working at the restaurant by late 1999 and had moved on to greener pastures. I lost touch with Nellie but saw her around town now and then. It's funny how people just drift out of your life but I guess that's what we do to get by. As it turned out my new job became the focus of my life along with the people in it. Before you knew it a couple more years had passed by and you wonder where it all went.
In the summer of 2002 Sean got sick again. The luekemia came roaring back with a vengence and Seaney had to go back on chemo. He'd barely had time to recover from his last ordeal so this time it hit him harder. The autumn was a rough one for him as he fought it off as best he could. I was frantically preparing to move to Southern California and was busy making preparations during December of that year when I ran into Al, my old boss from the restaurant. He mentioned that Sean was having a really tough time and to see if I could go talk to Nellie to cheer her up a bit. I said I'd try but deep down I knew I couldn't. My excuse was that I was busy moving, that I would literally be driving a moving van down south in a matter of days. But I was actually hiding my real fear of facing Nellie and trying to figure out what I would say to her. It really isn't like me to be afraid to confront lifes lessons like this. I wish I knew why I couldn't at least be there for Nellie, to give a kind word. It wouldn't have cost a thing and I could have lifted her spirits like nobody else. But I didn't.
I moved down to sunny SoCal on December 31st, 2002. There I would stay until I moved to Ohio over a year and a half later. In the back of my mind I would think about Nellie and Sean. I didn't know what had happened to the little boy as I'd left town while he was still putting up a fight. In truth, I think I was afraid to know. Tonight I decided to find out. I searched all over the internet for his name, dreading what I might find but hoping that he'd beaten it again. I almost expected to see his name on the honor role for 8th grade students at his school. Honestly, I didn't know what to expect but I soon found out what had happened to Sean. I came across a newspaper account that had mentioned how he'd lost the battle to luekemia and that his brother was so devastated he couldn't play with his basketball team. The team had dedicated their play during the playoffs to Sean and that added inspiration had propelled them to some unlikely wins over much stronger opponents.
He's gone. Now I know. Now all I have to do is pick up that phone and call Nellie. Tell her how sorry I am that I wasn't there for her when she needed a friend. I was too busy...no...I was just chickenshit. Either way, I wasn't there for a friend. Nellie deserved better.
I had a wonderful experience today. It involved a bookstore. Yes, a bookstore. My travels today took me into German Village, a gentrified section of Old Columbus rich in history, quaint shops and cobblestone streets. I had been applying for work at a fairly chic Euro-style bistro there when a sign for a little bookstore caught my eye. I'm a sucker for bookstores so I parked the car across the street and meandered inside.
It was called The Book Loft http://www.bookloft.com/bltour.htm and I found myself taken with the store the moment I walked in. The building isn't small like I originally thought, it contains 32 rooms that meander through this maze of a building. In each room there's music, sometimes jazz or classical, American classic songs or New Age. This place is huge! I explored the store for about 40 minutes, taking my time in each section I began to notice that music somehow fit the genre. In the sci-fi section I noticed The Planets by Holst, in the biographies a classic American standard by Bing Crosby and in the history section some 1930's jazz. This labyrinth seemed to go on forever but I didn't mind as I had plenty of time. It almost felt otherworldly what with the cobblestones and the Dickensian overtones but absolutely charming. I will definitely go back there and give them my business. After all, I hope to be working right down the street. If you're ever in town please go see this bookshop. I'll go with you. Promise.
May 22nd, 2005
Mosied on over to German Village yesterday for what is known as The Garage Sale. Everybody in the village has their own garage sale so you merely stroll down the street for perusing from door to door. It was tons of fun as I'm such a bargain hunter and of course you can find all sorts of great stuff at firesale prices.
My own purchases were meager but kind of cool, to whit: two baseball caps for 50 cents and a Braun electric shaver for 1 dollar. Nearly sent me to the poorhouse it did. But I made an inquiry at one house about the availability of an old desk. I need one for my upstairs office and I wanted it to be old and well made. The gentleman I asked took me and Dave inside and showed us three desks, one of them had to go and all three were big, heavy, old and distinguished looking. I could take my pick for 150 bucks. I wanted to think about it but I think I'm going to go back there and get it. Yippee.
June 9th, 2005
I took time out from rebuilding my porch yesterday evening to pick up something I'd wanted for eons...an antique desk for my office. Me and Dave were able to haul this beauty from German Village where I'd seen it at a garage sale two weeks earlier. And it's really gorgeous. It's about 80 years old and belonged to a prominent attorney here in Columbus. It almost looks Presidential, doesn't it? I purchased the flag last Friday after I'd taken Jackson to Schiller Park for a run. There was a sign advertising a yard sale nearby so I ducked over to look. The flag in question is also quite old, circa 1940's or so and has 48 stars. I love historical artifacts so I forked over my ten bucks and proudly displayed it. This is my upstairs office.
July 13th, 2005
It rained today here in Columbus. The really good steady rain that I like to listen to as it taps on the roof. I was working on the latticework of the railings for the front porch before the drizzle turned into a steady rain.
Two nights ago I took Jackson over to German Village for a run at Schiller Park and was fortunate enough to see a rehearsal of Romeo And Juliet by The Actors Theatre Of Columbus. I had waited until after 8:00PM in order to avoid the heat. It was fun to sit on the grass and watch the actors especially in a play I'd already performed in many years ago. I like to think that Jackson was having as much fun as I was. I think he could have done without the Shakespeare and had more time for exploring but them's the breaks kid.
We then strolled over to the tennis courts to watch the players and I wondered when I would find a practice partner so I could get back in shape. I seem to be putting this off, maybe it's just not one of my priorities anymore. But when I pick up a tennis racket it all comes back, it always does.
August 7th, 2005
Once again my dear Jackson and I found ourselves in German Village for a run at Schiller Park. It was a Saturday night and the final weekend of Romeo and Juliet that the Actor's Theatre was presenting in the park. A crowd of about 500 or so was watching and we could not have had better weather. The heat we'd experienced earlier in the week had dissipated and we were blessed with a beautiful evening for Shakespeare In The Park. I chatted with some of the company members who were running the show and one of them doted on Jackson. It always help to bring the dog with you as they're automatic conversation starters. I like this place.
A Walk in The Countryside...musings on life, love and the nature of the universe
*note...these are a series of essays that I have already published but I wanted to introduce them to a different audience. I'll dribble them out now and then so if you enjoy the whimsy of talking dogs and philosophical musings you may find this your cup of tea. Earl Grey perhaps.*
The Adventures of Jackson and Motley, Episode 1
A drizzly, inclement afternoon it is and my dog and I made our way out to the fields for his walk. He didn't really need one as we live out in the country and he basically roams free but to journey far from the house requires a human presence and when that time comes this big dog looks forward to it. He's a good sized pupper, being the retriever/Newfoundland mix that he is. The best way to envision him is to imagine the biggest Golden Retriever you can and then dye him jet black. That's him. Did I mention the ritual? To get him excited about going out it has become the norm to hum the theme song from a certain TV show so he can get all worked up. This is his cue that he's going for his walk. I know, it's weird. But dogs like to be sung to you know, and he bays right back with the knowledge that his walk is imminent.
A change of shoes is needed and the driving cap too, with those we are off. Out into the drizzle we go with him bounding out ahead of me. I catch him looking back occasionally to check my whereabouts. He never goes too far, it's as if he remembers what it's like to be abandoned. All that time he spent in the pound when no one cared for him must have had some kind of effect on his psyche and it's almost as if he wants to be sure that he'll never be alone again. The fields are quiet and you can almost hear the heavy weather gathering in the distance. Soon a storm will be upon us. The weather is almost English in its nature, drizzle, the sounds of crows in the distance and the rather comforting sound that large animals make when they run. Horses do it too, that rythmic sound they make when cantoring or loping. Ta-ta-tump----ta-ta-tump, That's the sound. I couldn't help but think for a moment that this was one of those pure and unique moments in life, when all is well and for a short while seems like heaven. Moments like those don't come very often so I try to savor them when they do. I remember the last time I felt this way...
We made our way to the fence where some horses were kept. They came around to look us over and have their ears scratched. Horses make me nervous a little and I never know when they're going to nibble my jacket or conk me in the head. They enjoyed the attention though and didn't seem to mind being soaking wet as long as they could satisfy their curiosity about these two strange creatures invading their world.
Down by the turn in the road there was an orchard where someone kept beehives. Normally we'd be wary about getting too close but it was very apparent that the bees were also hunkering down and taking shelter from our impending deluge. I stood right next to one of them half expecting a swarm to emerge and smite me for my daring but nothing came of it. Just an almost imperceptable buzzing inside the hive gave any indication of a living presence. We felt lucky to have ventured this close without incident so we backed off and quietly trudged back to the dirt road. I stopped and looked back and thought briefly of my younger self, perhaps ten years old, who would have loved to throw a rock at the hive from a safe distance just to rile those bees. And I realized then how far I'd come as a person for such things no longer interested me and I wondered where that ten year old kid had gone and if any of him still remained.
Time to head back. We returned the way we came, almost retracing our steps. The drizzle was getting more intense now. The dog didn't care, he was having a blast, just give him something to sniff and somewhere to explore and he's happy. I chuckled as that just didn't seem like much to ask for.
There are times when I wonder what he's thinking and if somehow, some way, there was a way to really have a meeting of the minds. I wonder if he has the same thoughts and what he thinks of me and his home here in the country? If only, if only.
We made our way back by the old apple orchard, dark and leafless trees lined up in neat rows waiting for spring to do what they do. Ta-ta-tump. There he goes right by me. The house loomed in the drizzly distance, warm and comfortable in contrast to this bracing and rather English weather we were braving. I hated to see this little journey end. It was memorable. It was heaven.
Once inside again I could hear the sound of rain beginning to tap on the roof and it grew to a deafening pitch. We had just made it.
FOOL:
The reason why the
seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.
KING LEAR:
Because they are not eight?
FOOL:
Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.
