It's Always Something

“So you’ve been writing letters, young Lupe, you pixie-sized imp.”

I should probably explain that I had no intention of wounding the child. There is no better quality in the 12-and-under class than this little mischief-maker and, being my god-niece, she's one of the few inmates of the Village that I look forward to seeing on those occasions that I’m prevented from staying away.

“I write my mom once a week when she’s traveling,” said the Lupe.

“That’s not the kind of letter I’m talking about and you know it,” I said, adding emphasis on the last few words. I know her tactics, you see, and I wasn’t about to let her wiggle away from the intended subject. “I’m talking about the letter that’s been floating around with all the hallmarks of one of your magical spells.”

“Runes, you mean?”

“Not runes! Let’s not continue with attempted diversions, please. This is a serious overturn of the natural order that you’ve instigated and it must stop it now!”

“Why,” she asked.

“Because if it doesn't stop soon, the village curse will awaken and slither from the muck at the bottom of Lake Jordan to come make my life a living hell.”

“Jordan Lake,” she said.

I decided to appeal to her finer nature, if any, and so I said, “Lupe, please! I need your help. Will you rally round or not?“

“What curse?” she asked.

“Oh, why do you insist on making this so difficult? You know the curse. The aunt’s curse. Every time I visit this lunatic asylum, I suffer the effects of one of Fate’s practical jokes. The place becomes unfit for human consumption, especially this human.”

“But I live for those times,” she said, with a bright smile spreading across her face. “Nothing fun ever happens in the Village unless you’re here. Even Vickie Mason says that it’s the worst assignment in North Carolina for a blue bottle who wants to advance through the ranks. She has nothing to do.”

I raised a hand to quiet the little urchin. “Just one minute, young Lupe. Let’s stay on topic from now on but just for the nonce, explain to me what Vickie Mason has to do with this. And before you answer, let me assure you that we are going to get right back to that love letter. I’m too familiar with your tactics of diversion and obfuscation to fall for any of your tricks and, yes, I recognize that blue bottle remark as a diversion. Now—about Mason. What’s the story?”

“What does obfuscation mean?”

“Deliberately causing confusion. What about Mason?”

“She’s the new head of security.”

“Head of security?” I said. “What security?”

She laughed at the question. A full-throated, head-thrown-back laugh. “I know. Stupid right?” She shook the topknot and then continued, ”Uncle Gus decided the Village should have a security force to make the visitors feel safe. All the off-duty guides work as security guards and Vickie is the Chief.”

“But nothing here needs guarding. What’s the old boy thinking? Has he finally lost it?”

“The don’t guard. What they really do is answer visitor questions, give directions, run errands, that kind of thing. Mobile phone service sucks in the Village and the girl guides deliver messages for people.”

“But why would Vickie leave the county sheriff’s office and take a job like that?”

“Well, she says she took the job to have a better crack at pinching you.”

I marveled. I admit this took me by surprise and yet I was certain—the butterflies in the gut were certain—that the young geezer had hit the nail squarely on the head. Wham! Bam! Mason planed to set a trap for yours truly.

“You see, Lupe,” I said, “this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about when I speak of the curse. Mason simply can’t accept that I’m an innocent man. She has a vendetta against me. It goes all the way back to high school and that unfortunate incident involving underwear and flagpoles. No one should have to endure the level of persecution that’s directed toward me by that rural scourge.”

“Innocent? asked the shrimp. “Did you say innocent?”

“Innocent is what I said,” I said.

“But you burned down the girl guides dormitory.”

“Oh, my sainted aunt!” I said. “Are people still talking about that? Isn’t there a statute of limitations around here?”

“It only happened last Christmas,” she said.

“Exactly!” I said. “And I’ve explained at least a thousand times that it was not my fault. I had no other choice. You would have done the same if you had been at the scene, knowing that Mason and the rest of the sheriff’s deputies were going to arrive any minute. There was no time to phone Two Men and a Truck. I had to burn the place down to hide the evidence.”

 “Oh, don’t get your knickers in a wad,” she said, using one of Aunt Maggie’s trademark quips. “May Day Festival is only a few days away. Everyone is busy getting ready for it. Mason won’t have time to mess with you. And then barely able to contain the laughter, "She’s got to plan security.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” I said. “I hope so because Gwyn called me down here to do a little something for her and I don’t want any distractions.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “You’re going to have to devote all your attention to that little job,” she said, and she said it with a sort of solemness that caused the temperature in the room to rise.

“Oh, you know about the favor then? I hope it’s not another one of those harebrained schemes that only she can devise. I have enough black marks on my record resulting from the last favor she asked.”

"Why don't you just say no when she asks?"

"It's complicated," I said. "We have history."

"Oh," she said, "you mean it's like blackmail."

"Isn't it?" I said and I meant every word.

“Don’t worry,” said Lupe. “It’s not a big deal. You can do it standing on your head.”

“That’s reassuring,” I said. “What is it she wants anyway?”

“She wants you to slip into Alan’s room at the Inn and steal a ring.”

Rites of Passage

The day promised to be bright and beautiful and it put the old spring back into my step as I sashayed down the trail around Brunswick Lake. I was feeling better than better and I'll tell you why.

The events of recent months had left me feeling like I once felt while swimming at the bottom of Soddy Lake, scrambling around to find a few pebbles to bring back to the surface to prove to the boys on the bridge that I'd made it all the way to the bottom.

But hold on; I've just realized that this opening may leave a few of you wondering just what the hell I'm talking about. Let's put it in context and then I'll get on with the topic for the day. I promise to be brief.

In the days of yore, most of my relatives and I lived near the lake close to where it joined the Tennessee River. We had many traditional challenges, which I later learned are called rites of passage, and most of them involved water.

One of these, which was intended to occur prior to the 16th birthday, was to dive from a railing on Amstrong Bridge and go all the way to the bottom of the lake, into the trench where a mountain spring flowed, and then fill your hand with gravel to bring back to the surface.

Bring the gravel up and you were ready for driving, dating, and preparing for manhood. Otherwise, you were still a child. The prerequisites for this event were to first jump from the top of a bridge support column, and later dive from that same column, a distance of about 16. The distance from the top rail to the surface of the water was about 24 feet.

And so when I say that I'd felt like the kid swimming around in the dark, cold water trying to find a handful of pebbles, I hope you will get the gist.

But this morning, I found myself in the bright, clear light of day, sunshine and birdsong energizing my walk and lifting my mood into the stratosphere, not too near the sun.

I felt like Icarus--I'm sure you remember him from high school--and I joined the local birds of prey soaring all the way up to those towering cotton-ball clouds.

It was one for the record books and I'm still feeling its effects. Mornings like this make me feel that I can do anything and that the future is too bright to be without shades. We know that life isn't like that, of course. There's always something hiding around the corner waiting for you to become distracted by some shiny object.

Still, there's nothing like the feeling that comes from sitting on top of the world with a rainbow 'round the shoulder, if only for a little while.

Life comes what? That's right, life comes fast; and what? Yes, it comes hard! You're paying attention, my friend. Have a great remainder of the day and fierce qigong to you.

Ms. Wonder

I saw her standing there in the lobby on my first day working at 1120 NASA Road 1 in Houston, and the way she looked was way beyond compare. She looked my way and our eyes meet for just one moment. That's all it took. I knew that before too long I'd fall in love with her and she'd become Ms. Wonder.

Paris of Troy must have felt the same when he first saw Helen.

Before I got the nerve to ask her out, I spent several lonely nights behind the wheel of my automobile, cruising around town and listening to the radio with no particular place to go.

The day came when I walked into her office and walked across the room to ask her for a date. My heart went BOOM when she said yes. After that first dinner, I was anxious to tell her how I felt and my heart went BOOM again when she told me she felt the same way. 

Cleopatra must have felt the same when Marc Antony first came calling.

Eventually, we drove past the metroplex and realized that Moonstruck was playing on the big screen. We parked with a few minutes to spare before the movie began and it was then that I stole a kiss. At that moment I knew that my lonely nights were in the past and that I'd never dance with anyone else again.

Napoleon must have felt the same when Josephine first smiled at him.

The night was still young and the moon was gold so we decided to take a stroll before the show began. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't unfasten my safety belt. And so we spent that first evening together, she sitting next to me at the wheel, cruising around town and listening to the radio with no particular place to go. 

We've been to many places together and made many happy memories. I wouldn't have it any other way. Tomorrow we will visit the districts of Wilmington, cruising around and listening to the radio with no particular place to go. 

Life is good, especially with Wonder in it.

Just Whistle!

I found Ms. Wonder sitting at a table outside Port City Cafe and I noticed right away that she'd made a pleasing choice. The table was shaded from the heat of the already high morning sun and a cooling sea breeze seemed intent on proving that the Universe was looking out for our best interests. All things considered, every prospect was pleasing.

I'd hoped to surprise her because she'd said goodbye to me only a few minutes before and had expected me to be on my way to Crystal Cove. But I'd changed my mind about that. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.

"Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world and you have to walk into mine," she said. 

"Is it yours?" I said. "I didn't know you'd invested in the globally grown and Carolina roasted."

"Not mine in the sense that I own it, goofball; mine in the sense that it's the one I chose for the new blue wave smoothie. Delicious," she said, "Try it."

"Maybe later," I said. "Right now I need 16 ounces of steaming God's mercy."

"I see that you failed to leave for the Cove like you planned. Getting a late start?"

"Not going," I said.

She gave me one of her looks. It was the look she reserves for occasions when she's with someone who's just announced they've taken up raising Cocker Spaniels.

"Talking it out usually helps," she said. "Want to talk about it?"

"Thank you for the generous offer," I said, "but you've heard it before girlfriend; I feel that when I stopped to smell the roses, the number 14 bus moved on and left me behind. Now I'm living in the past and I feel that I don't belong here in this decade. Don't get me wrong; it's a beautiful world with all prospects pleasing--except man, of course. Humanity, Poopsie, that's one bad apple for you."

"I may be able to help with all that," she said. "May I offer a suggestion?"

"Please," Wonder, "that's why I sought you out. I knew you'd have something to make it all better. But if you're thinking of saying something along the lines of, don't worry be happy, just give it a miss for my sake."

 "The secret to living in the world you desire," she said, "is to give up fighting everything. Stop the negative criticism and sarcasm, and accept everything exactly as it comes to you."

"This I take it is the live life on life's terms strategy," I said and I meant for her to understand that I'd heard all this before and had no room left for more of it.

"Not exactly," she said. "It's like this: The organizing principle of the Universe is cause and effect. Your world, as it exists now is the result of your thoughts and beliefs. There's no point in trying to change the world or the people or the circumstances around you. The secret is to change your point of view and see the world differently. As soon as you do that, the world will automatically change. In quantum physics, it's called the observer effect."

"I know about the observer effect in q physics," I said, "and I'm sure that it doesn't apply to the principle of visualizing the world you want, and voila, there it is."

"Why not give it chance anyway? Many happy people use this technique every day. You've been struggling to change your life for quite a while now. It seems that Princess Amy has taken up long-term residence in your head even though she arrived without invitation."

She paused here and gave me a kind, encouraging look. That look worked wonders. The sunlight pierced the heavy fog inside my head and brightened up my outlook for the day. This is an example of those wonders that she mysteriously performs.

With the mood soaring somewhere above the clouds, I remembered something I'd read somewhere--something about people living in darkness. It went something like this, 'on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.' Probably Shakespeare or Billy Joel maybe.

I must have been lost in thought because I remember the feeling that I was floating to the surface and realized that Ms. Wonder was still speaking.

 "You have nothing to lose if it doesn't work for you. Try a little experiment and see what happens."

"A little experiment, hunh?" I said. "Why not? Like you say, I have nothing to lose. Alright, Wonder, I'll give it my best effort; six weeks sounds like a fair amount of time. Yes, I feel good about it. I'll do it. Thanks for the suggestion."

"I'm happy to bring satisfaction," she said. "If I can be of further help, just whistle and I'll be there."

She turned as if to leave me and I expected her to blow away like the breeze but it didn't happen. As if in afterthought, she turned back to me and I noticed a twinkle in her eye that wasn't there a moment before. She looked into my eyes and a smile played across her face as she said, 

"You do know how to whistle, don't you?"

Well, we Genomes are quick to spot an opportunity to impress and entertain, and it was with me the work of an instant to put my two pinkies in my mouth and blow. I've learned that this maneuver is guaranteed to impress all bystanders.

It was a whistle that impressed the heck out of me but she was unmoved and perhaps a little disappointed.

"No," she said, "that's not the whistle I'm expecting. What will make me happy will be for you to simply put your lips together and blow."

Having said that she demonstrated the technique and produced the sweetest, most exquisite little note I've ever heard. She then made her exit and left me feeling that I was sitting on top of the world with a bluebird on my shoulder. I don't suppose that I'd ever come closer to singing "Zip a Dee Do Dah!"

The Invitation

The door to the sal de bains opened and she emerged like Venus rising from the sea. 

"Is it morning already?" I said. 

"It's afternoon," she said. "You were napping, remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course," I said. "But why is it so gray outside?"

"There was a brief shower," she said, "but it's hot outside and there's a heavy mist. Summertime at the coast is a season of sultry mistiness."

"A season of what?"

"Sultry mistiness," she said.

"Well, we are at the coast, of course," I said, "and I'm not yet attuned to the weather patterns, which are much different from that of the steppes of the Carolina Triangle. But I'll have to take your word for the sultry mistiness."

She shrugged but made not a peep.

"I'm moving slowly this afternoon, Poopsie. Sagi kept me up 'till all hours last night."

I referred to the cat; the caramel-colored tabby who is addicted to rolls of paper and sometimes finds dispensers of paper towels or toilet tissue to be so tempting as to overpower his will. He backslid last night. Not the first time.

"Let me get you one of my pick-me-ups," she said. "I have one prepared in the fridge."

After tossing the concoction down the hatch and recovering from the momentary feeling that the head was going to explode, I felt much better and ready for whatever the day might bring.

"Any recent developments to attend to?" I said.

"Lupe texted to say that you're needed in the Cove. She didn't offer any details as to why."

"They never do, Poopsie. They know I avoid the place due to my allergic reaction to it."

"You're allergic to Crystal Cove? she said.

"I am," I said. "The air there seems to be filled with some dark matter or other that clings to me until reaching critical mass when there's a loud pop and bits of the fabric of reality fill the air like confetti. And somehow, everyone points the finger at me."

The remark earned me another of her patented looks but I chose to ignore it. I felt a strong need for a seltzer to equalize the effect of that elixir of hers. These things lift one's spirits to the sticking point making an impression on the willpower that suggests anything is possible. But they also suggest that one has experienced the impossible. I prefer to dilute them as soon as they've worked their wonders.

When Reason was restored to her throne, I realized that as much as I wanted to ignore the summons, it came from my favorite denizen of Crystal Cove, Lupe, my god-niece. She sent the request and you know as well as I that I have no choice but to comply.

I'll leave tonight and contact you tomorrow when I learn the reason for the invitation. Something to set hell's foundations shaking I imagine.