To the Moon and Back

"You seem a little depressed this afternoon," said a voice from somewhere on the screened porch.

I had abandoned the attempt to tidy-up a travel piece I'd written for Carolina Roads Magazine and I'd gone downstairs to raid the fridge. I was looking for a turmeric-ginger kombucha when I heard those words. 

From where I stood, I couldn't see the owner of that musical voice, but I knew it belonged to the wonder-worker that I sometimes call, Poopsie, but who's formally known as Ms Wonder.

I remember thinking that she couldn't possibly see me from where she sat behind the fishnets and so I wondered how she'd guessed my mood. "What makes you say that?" I asked. 

"I can tell by the sound of your footsteps," she said.

I marveled at hearing this. Could she really know my day was in the recycle bin by the way I walked? Or was this one of those stage tricks done with mirrors? 

This mystery, if I can call it that, made me think of my Great-aunt, Arvazine, but for heaven's sake, let's not get into that now. It's a story for another day, and it's a story you don't want to miss so pay close attention to future posts.

"Low spirited?" she said.

I did a quick check-in with self to see if she was getting warm and found, to my surprise, that she was. And not merely warm but hot! I was low spirited! Damn, she's good! I wonder if she's ever considered a career on the stage?

I carried my glass of tissue restorer onto the porch where Wonder sat holding Olivia, who isn't a real octopus, of course. Once in her sight, the curtain raised on my own stage act and I went into my performance.

"One of these days, Alice!" I said making a fist and pushing it skyward. "One of these days, Pow! To the moon, Alice, to the moon!"

"That bad?" she said.

I considered the question. "Oh, I don't know," I said. "About average, I'd call it. Nothing on the level of wheat fields and profane love."

"I'm sorry," she said, "you've lost me. What do I know of wheat fields and profane love?"

"Ah, yes, there is that," I said. "Let me put it another way. Except for the names and a few other changes, my story's the same one."

There passed a few moments of silence while she directed a look my way that left me with that feeling you get when you're standing in the surf and the waves pull the sand from under your heels. 

"You dream of being a king?" she said at last.

"No, not that story," I said. "The story I refer to is the one that goes, Pow! To the moon, Alice. That story."

"Alice in Wonderland?" she said.

"The Honeymooners," I said.

She shook her head the way she does sometimes after swimming. "I'm afraid I haven't had that pleasure. You confuse me."

"Did you say, You complete me?"

"Confuse me," she said. 

"Ah!" I said with a nod.

I realize as I write this that you too may not be familiar with the reference. Don't feel bad. You aren't expected to recognize everything. Your head is full of other stuff. 

The Honeymooners is something with no meaning for you because you weren't born in that period of television history. And I didn't really expect you to make the connection between wheat fields and profane love. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that you think profane love refers to phone sex. 

Don't let it bother you. I'm just happy that you found me. I enjoy your company. In fact, in many ways, you complete me. And I'm happy to know that you helped make Coastal Camelot the all-time favorite post on this blog. I enjoy that one too. 

If you haven't read it yet, you should do so now. You can come back to this post later. Find it in the Favorites column on the right-hand side of this webpage. 

Now back to the regularly scheduled...

"You know the story, Wonder," I said. "It's the old one about  the spoiled princess and  the occasions that repeatedly bring one damned thing after another. Those occasions always stir up thoughts of, Pow! To the moon, Alice!"

"Of course it isn't really Alice in those day-to-day circumstances," I said. "It's the guy who ran me off the road as he checked his text messages. Or the person next to me who thought he had to yell into his mobile phone to be heard all the way to Greensboro."

"And so," I said, "except for the names and a few other changes, the story is still Pow! To the moon!"

She was giving me a different look now. It included what may have been the hint of a smile creasing the corners. 

"You wear it well," she said.

"Thank you, Poopsie. I had a good teacher."

"I'm guessing that teacher would be Life, the Universe, and Everything," she said.

"That's right."

"Served you well, has it?" she said.

It was becoming a big day for exchanging looks. I gave her one now that consisted of a little smile and a couple of raised eyebrows. Looks say so much, don't you agree?

"Then keep on that path until your ribs squeak, is my advice," she said.

I laughed. She was quoting my stuff back to me and it suited her well I thought.

"You complete me, Wonder," I said.

"I know," she said.

So there you have it. Wonder completes me and, in your own quiet way, you complete me too. It feels good.

Last Fling of Summer

"The creature of the lake is proving to be one heckofa challenging assignment," I said to Ms Wonder as we prepared for a new Thursday morning.

"Creature?" she said. "You mean lake monster?"

"It's a monster no longer," I said. "Lupe objected to calling it that. Her argument and I think it's a good one, is that we know so little about it that calling it a monster may give the public a prejudiced point of view."

"Ah," she said with a nod of the head, "and as we know too well, the public is already prejudiced to the tonsils."

"Rem acu tetigisti," I said and I felt pretty good about it too. I don't know what it means, perhaps you do, but I see it in all the best books.

"By the way," she said, "I'm curious. What do we know about this lake creature?"

"Creature of the Lake," I said.

"Whatever," she said. "What do we know for sure."

"No more than scientists know about the number of galaxies in the Milky Way," I said. "We know only that it's mathematically proven."

"What mathematically proven?" she said.

"Well, you remember that Lupe is one of those delinquent whizzes in math and she's developed the formula that proves the creature has to be there."

"You meant to say, juvenile, not delinquent," she said.

"Did I?" I said. "She's a juvenile who's not delinquent in math then."

She looked at her hands--I don't know why--and shook her head. She is prone to headaches so maybe she felt one coming on.

"I'm going to have to doubt that Lupe proved the existence of a lake monster with a mathematical formula."

"But it's true," I said. "It was her special project at the School of Science and Math in Durham. She took into consideration all sorts of stuff, like water temperature, the average depth of the lake, food supply, and stuff like that. I think the nuclear power plant figured heavily into the equation."

"I'll bet it did," she said.

"I have a copy of the equation somewhere," I said. "Was planning to use it in my article when we get a photo of the creature."

"You're going to photograph it?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "That's why I spend so much time at the lake. But we don't want people to know which lake. We don't want anyone messing about on the water and causing the creature a lot of anxiety and whatnot. Lupe thinks the creature may be a mother taking care of her young."

"Mathematically proven, of course," said the Wonder. Then she added in a thoughtful way, "A lake full of radioactive, mutant monsters."

"Yeah, creatures," I said. "Exciting hunh?"

"So how're you going to get a photo if you've spent all summer out there and haven't seen it yet?"

"Ah, that's my latest inspiration," I said. "When Lupe demanded that we not cause the creature unnecessary stress, it made me think of Happy Cats Wellness."

"I don't follow," she said.

"On our website, we teach people how they can enrich the lives of their cats to keep them curious, engaged, and happy."

"Yes?" she said.

"One of those suggestions is that the cat must get plenty of hunting play, right? Playing games that mimic hunting--something the cat is driven to do anyway."

"Wait a second," she said. "You're not telling me that you plan to coax this creature into hunting mode so that you can get a photo?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," I said. "Cats need to hunt because they've been conditioned through the millennia to stalk, pounce, kill and devour prey. I'm betting the creature is the same."

"One way to improve the lives  of cats is to dangle a feather on a string in front of them to get them to stalk and pounce."

"Please tell me," she said, "that you don't plan to use a fishing rod to cast bait into the lair and tempt a monster to attack. With you at the other end of the fishing pole and probably up to your waist in the lake?"

"Ms. Wonder," I said. "do give me some credit. Of course, I won't do something that silly. No, I've a much better way and it's absolutely certain to work. And it's a creature, not a monster."

"Do tell," she said.

"I have the perfect spot in mind where I will draw her out of hiding with hunting play, but not by dangling a feather."

"Although you admit that you know nothing about this creature," she said.

"I don't have to know anything," I said. "My plan requires no information other than knowing of something that no creature can ignore."

"You're going to have a mutant, radioactive monster chase a red dot across the surface of the lake?"

"Yes, I know, it's genius, isn't it?" I said and I felt pretty good about it too.

What the Cat Dragged In

The following post was written deep in the COVID-19 pandemic. When I re-read it now it makes me a bit uncomfortable remembering those days. I've considered removing it but it seems that we, all of us, are quick to forget what those days in the pandemic were like. I get it. The memories and not pleasant and the thought of facing more such events is scary. Maybe that's why I leave it here; to keep me--us--from forgetting.

 

Well, here we are again. Another bright, beautiful day in the Bull City. That's not to say that nothing's changed. The virus is here, of course, and it seems that everything has changed. Would you have believed, just a few weeks ago, that life could change so quickly? 

Here in Durham, as in most cities around the country, people my age are asked to stay indoors and not take up valuable public space that could be better used for other purposes. A couple weeks ago, if asked how I'd react to that, I would have replied, 

"You'll not see the Genome lying around the house when there's opportunity to be had underneath the wide, wild, wind-blown blue."

My ancestors got the hell out of Tuscany after Florence burned but we haven't forgotten the good life--nope, not a bit. And yet... here I am watching videos of Arnold Schwarzenegger telling everyone to stay inside. And he isn't simply recommending that we stay in for our best health. He's saying our former life is gone. He says, "That's over. No more. No more restaurants, no more coffee shops. No more. It's over."

Oh, my sainted aunt! 

Maybe for you, Arnold, but not for this Viking. I have the blood of the Florentine Gherardinis running through these veins. I have the genes of the Jarls of Denmark encoded in this DNA. I have the heart of Rhys ap Tewdwr of Wales burning in this breast and the spirit of the Rain Crows of North Carolina sustaining me. I'll never be defeated. 

That attitude helped me defeat drug addiction. That attitude keeps me grounded through the emotional quakes and tsunamis of manic depression. And that attitude will keep me safe and sane through the current trial or tribulation or whatever it is. I get those two confused. 

Yes, I will survive and life will go on and it will go on for you too if you know what's good for you. You have your own set of ancestral gifts. Now, I realize that you may have some anxiety and whatnot. Understandable, of course. Quite natural. But you don't need to let it get the better of you.

I have the solution.

Get yourself a cat. If you already have one, get another. They work their magic best in pairs. If you already have two, get another. I once had six cats and I was immensely better for it. I have three now and they make it enjoyable to stay home even when I'm home for more than the recommended dose for the average adult. 

Of course, they sleep until 2:00 in the afternoon and I'm forced to find other ways to be entertained, like writing blog posts for example. I haven't posted anything on this blog in months and the cats have just about had it with me. They inspire me! 

Now, I know what you're thinking, and you can't be blamed for that, but consider this...it could be a lot worse.

What's Your Atlantis?

"Well, here we are again, Ms Wonder" I said, and I said it with not a little topspin.

"Where is that?" she asked while doing something to an eyebrow.

"Don't do that," I said. "Don't start that again, as though you don't know what I'm talking about."

"You mean the solstice?"

"I'm not talking about the solstice. It has nothing to do with longer nights and colder weather, although emotionally it does feel like the long, dark, teatime of the soul."

"Please tell me it's not about Straw Valley."

"Well, it is about Straw Valley affair and why not?

"I'm not familiar with the straw valley affair," she said.

"It's capitalized," I said. "and you are perfectly familiar with it."

"You're talking about the Straw Valley complex in the Commons," she said. "I thought it was closed."

"Oh no, no, no," I said. "Reopened some months ago and under new management. You wouldn't recognize the place. Well, you would, of course, but it's even better is what I mean. There's a wellness center in the Blake House and the restaurant has undergone a complete renovation to become the  Korean Vegan Palace."

"I doubt that but why are you telling me this?"

"Because," I said and then paused for theatrical breath, "the wellness center is talking to me about offering meditation and qigong classes in the courtyard again."

"Not that again," she said. Now, I know what you're thinking if you follow the ups and downs of Genome here on this slab of digital granite. You're probably thinking that the last bit of dialogue had the wrong tone. You're thinking that it lacked the rally-round element. And you're probably thinking that the Genome took it big. Well, you're right. I did.

"What do you mean, not that again?" I said raising my voice. "Bringing sweetness and light to the over-burdened hearts of the world is my calling. The courtyard of Straw Valley is my Atlantis. I'm going to teach meditation and qigong until my eyes bubble."

"That's the spirit!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, well I'm happy to know I have your approval."

"Always," she said.

"Thank you, Poopsie."

"Not at all," she said, and then giving me a questioning look she added, "You're not wearing khaki pants again?"

"Wonder Woman," I said.

"Yes?"

"Let's not spoil the moment, shall we?"

"Suit yourself," she said.

"That's what I've done," I said. And with that I wished her a tinkerty-tonk and was out the door like a spinnaker under full sail.

One Thing After Another

I woke with a light heart and with the words of that old saw running through my mind. How does it go, 'Let us then be up and doing, with a heart for any fate; still achieving...', something, something, blah, blah, blah, and then it ends with some guff about laboring and waiting but let's not allow the thing to bring us down, I just thought I'd mention it.

Woolly Bull at the Durham Bulls baseball field

As I say, I was in good mood but, as we all know, just because the day begins well is no reason to think it will continue that way. I didn't fall for it. I maintained a heart for any fate.

I had business with the Center for Integrative Medicine at Duke and the day being so fine, I decided to cruise in that direction. I counted cats and then ankled toward the door but before I opened it, the phone tootled.

"Can you please bring a box of those felted soaps to my office, please?" said a familiar voice. 

"No problem, Poopsie, for I am just now on my way to Duke and when I leave there, I will drop by your place on Blackwell Street with the goods."

See how pleasant it all was? But don't let that fool you. No, no, no, you just wait. As soon as the car left the garage, the sky opened and forty days and nights of rain began falling.

Well, everything looks different in the rain, of course, and I made a wrong turn. You expected that, didn't you? But I'll bet you didn't expect this: as soon as I made the turn I was stopped by police cars and fire trucks. That's right, but they weren't interested in me and I can't say that I had much interest in them. I instructed the car to phone Wonder.

"Poopsie, I'm going to be a little late with the soaps and whatnot."

"That's OK," she said, unfazed as always. "Take your time."

"Oh, I will surely be taking my time, all right" I said. "I'm stuck in traffic. Someone's set fire to the road."

"Set fire to what?"

"The road, Poopsie, someone's lit up Fayetteville Street."

"But, I don't understand you. Why would someone set fire to a road? You mean there's been a traffic accident?"

"I don't see any accident," I said. "I only see the road ahead and it's blazing like the dickens. You ask a good question though. Why torch a road? Just a passing whim, do you think?"

She said no more but signed off rather abruptly. Probably some emergency in operations management. Eventually I was able to extricate myself from squad cars and fire hoses, and I began to drive Durham-ward. But it was still raining and I made another wrong turn. 

No fire trucks this time and I reasoned the best course of action was a u-turn. It took very little effort to make the turn because some traffic engineer had thoughtfully built a convenient spot for doing just that. Effortless but interesting anyway. I phoned the Wonder Woman.

"Poopsie," I said, "I wish you were here. I just made a u-turn, in one of those specially prepared places in the road where one is encouraged to make a u-turn, and you will hardly credit it, but there was a sign warning "Do Not Enter." I would have photographed it but, as I say, I was u-turning."

"Probably just an extra piece of road signage that was lying about. I wouldn't concern myself with it if I were you. I'm amazed that they spend good tax-payer money on signs like those," she said.

"But the entertainment value alone justifies them, don't you think?" I said. She rang off again.

I was now headed in the right direction and had found just the road to get me there when I was stopped by traffic again. You will be happy to know that the road wasn't burning and there were no emergency vehicles. There was, however, a yellow ribbon of the type you see strung across the roadways when people are raising money for some charity or other. The sign said, Iron Duke.

I know a thing or two about these Iron Dukes. For one thing, they take no guff from the locals. Don't mess with the Iron Duke is the word that goes round town, so I don't. Now, I'm not sure how it happened, but I was able, eventually, to find a detour that brought me to the gates where they sell tickets to the Greatest Show on Dirt. 

No Durham Bulls ball games scheduled for November, of course, so plenty of parking and I could walk to Wonder's office. Without further mishap, I arrived at the back door, underneath the Woolly Bull in left field.

"Thank you, Genome. You're one in a million," she said.

"I know," I said. "Don't mention it. It was quite exciting actually. Let's do it again tomorrow, shall we?"