I was so excited when I left the house this evening. I met her on Yahoo Personals and thought that this could just be the start of something really great. Boy was I wrong. The first problem I ran into was a communication glitz. We agreed to meet at the Donegans in Schofield. Well, apparently there are two Donegans in Schofield and she was at the other one. This was somewhat easily corrected by phone. Good thing we both have cells. So the date started late. She sure is beautiful.
Once we were seated, she went to ‘powder her nose’. While she was gone, I took the liberty of ordering an appetizer. Funny thing, she has never been to Donegans, or so she said. How was I to know she was terribly allergic to the horseradish they put in the crab cakes? Her face swelled up like a balloon. I thought she was going to die right there. So I called 911. She started having trouble breathing, or so I thought, so I grabbed her out of her chair and laid her flat on the floor. She says she was telling me no, but I couldn’t tell what she was saying. I gave her mouth to mouth, and she tried to beat the crap out of me. I thought she was having convulsions because she couldn’t breathe. Apparently, she thought I was going to try to rape her right there on the floor.
The paramedics came and took her to the emergency room. I guess she really was having trouble breathing by then. I have her purse, keys, and cell phone with me. I guess I have to give them back. I am wondering if I can just mail them.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
THE INCIDENT
Life was not easy for Val. She was the oldest child of a divorcee in the 1960s. She lived with her mother and aunt in a small green house on a dirt street on the poor end of town. Her mother worked as a seamstress and made less money that the guy down the street who did the exact same job. The reason he made more money, her mother was told, was because he had to support a family. Poverty was an enemy Val and her mother lived with all of Val’s childhood.
When Val was four, Lisa moved into the neighborhood. Lisa was four years old too and her family moved only three houses down the block from Val’s house. That summer was the most fun for Val. She and Lisa played games, shared tea and teapot sets, saved the world, and mother’d their dolls.
One day when Val asked to go play with Lisa, her mother and aunt told her no. They were quiet and whispered a lot. Val did not understand why she could not go over to play with Lisa. She saw Lisa several times that day, but Lisa never waved to her. Lisa would come and go holding her mother’s hand. There was a man with them whom Val had never seen before. Several days went by and Val thought her mother and aunt were being unfair. They were not telling her something and she did not know why it was that Lisa did not come over anymore.
After three days, Val slipped away from her yard in the heat of the afternoon and walked over to Lisa’s house. She walked up the sidewalk, the stairs, and across the large front porch. The inner door was open and Val could see the man and Lisa’s mom in the living room. He was hitting Lisa’s mom. The man turned and saw Val. Suddenly Val was terribly afraid. She knew instinctively from the fear on Lisa’s mom’s face that she was in trouble. The man headed for Val, anger on his face. He was so tall. He loomed over Val. Val refused to back away. “Why are you here?” The man asked. “I came to play with Lisa.” Val said, her voice shaking. “Well, if you want to play, I will play with you.” The man reached for Val. Suddenly, Lisa’s mother was there between Val and the man. “Val, go home now.” Val turned and ran out the door as fast as she could. She looked back once and saw the man beating Lisa’s mom.
Val told her mother tearfully what had happened. Her mother blanched white, and ran to the phone. Before the police arrived, a thunderous crack was heard that reverberated throughout the neighborhood. That afternoon, Lisa’s house was a bevy of activity. The horrible man was walked out of the house and put into the back of a police car. Someone was taken out of the house on a stretcher with a white sheet hanging down. Police came and talked to Val’s mother and aunt. People came and took Lisa away.
Later that evening, Val’s mother told Val that the man was Lisa’s dad. He had been in prison and when he got out he found Lisa and her mother. Val was scolded severely for disobeying her mother and going to Lisa’s house. The man had been angry that Lisa and Lisa’s mother had made friends with Val’s family. When Val went into the house, he reached for Val to hurt her. Lisa’s mother interfered and fought back when her husband tried to go after Val. This had resulted in the man shooting his wife. Lisa’s mom was in the hospital, fighting for her life,and Lisa’s dad was in jail again. Lisa was with social services.
Val only saw Lisa two more times. Once when Lisa and her mom moved out of the house and across town, and again when she went over with her mother to say goodbye. Lisa and her mother were moving to another state. Val played with Lisa both times, but it was not the same carefree play that it had been. Lisa was different. She cried a lot and was fussy. She wanted to move from one thing to another constantly. Val felt guilty for a long time. She believed that if she had not gone over to Lisa’s and had not disobeyed her mother, Lisa’s mother would not have had to protect her. It was a long time before she realized that the man would have hurt Lisa’s mother and perhaps Lisa anyway.
There have been numerous, small moments over the years when Val wondered what ever became of Lisa and her mother.
When Val was four, Lisa moved into the neighborhood. Lisa was four years old too and her family moved only three houses down the block from Val’s house. That summer was the most fun for Val. She and Lisa played games, shared tea and teapot sets, saved the world, and mother’d their dolls.
One day when Val asked to go play with Lisa, her mother and aunt told her no. They were quiet and whispered a lot. Val did not understand why she could not go over to play with Lisa. She saw Lisa several times that day, but Lisa never waved to her. Lisa would come and go holding her mother’s hand. There was a man with them whom Val had never seen before. Several days went by and Val thought her mother and aunt were being unfair. They were not telling her something and she did not know why it was that Lisa did not come over anymore.
After three days, Val slipped away from her yard in the heat of the afternoon and walked over to Lisa’s house. She walked up the sidewalk, the stairs, and across the large front porch. The inner door was open and Val could see the man and Lisa’s mom in the living room. He was hitting Lisa’s mom. The man turned and saw Val. Suddenly Val was terribly afraid. She knew instinctively from the fear on Lisa’s mom’s face that she was in trouble. The man headed for Val, anger on his face. He was so tall. He loomed over Val. Val refused to back away. “Why are you here?” The man asked. “I came to play with Lisa.” Val said, her voice shaking. “Well, if you want to play, I will play with you.” The man reached for Val. Suddenly, Lisa’s mother was there between Val and the man. “Val, go home now.” Val turned and ran out the door as fast as she could. She looked back once and saw the man beating Lisa’s mom.
Val told her mother tearfully what had happened. Her mother blanched white, and ran to the phone. Before the police arrived, a thunderous crack was heard that reverberated throughout the neighborhood. That afternoon, Lisa’s house was a bevy of activity. The horrible man was walked out of the house and put into the back of a police car. Someone was taken out of the house on a stretcher with a white sheet hanging down. Police came and talked to Val’s mother and aunt. People came and took Lisa away.
Later that evening, Val’s mother told Val that the man was Lisa’s dad. He had been in prison and when he got out he found Lisa and her mother. Val was scolded severely for disobeying her mother and going to Lisa’s house. The man had been angry that Lisa and Lisa’s mother had made friends with Val’s family. When Val went into the house, he reached for Val to hurt her. Lisa’s mother interfered and fought back when her husband tried to go after Val. This had resulted in the man shooting his wife. Lisa’s mom was in the hospital, fighting for her life,and Lisa’s dad was in jail again. Lisa was with social services.
Val only saw Lisa two more times. Once when Lisa and her mom moved out of the house and across town, and again when she went over with her mother to say goodbye. Lisa and her mother were moving to another state. Val played with Lisa both times, but it was not the same carefree play that it had been. Lisa was different. She cried a lot and was fussy. She wanted to move from one thing to another constantly. Val felt guilty for a long time. She believed that if she had not gone over to Lisa’s and had not disobeyed her mother, Lisa’s mother would not have had to protect her. It was a long time before she realized that the man would have hurt Lisa’s mother and perhaps Lisa anyway.
There have been numerous, small moments over the years when Val wondered what ever became of Lisa and her mother.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
4 Quad
Note: This story is incomplete. I have posted only the segment that I have completed. I have a rough draft of more. I was amazed at how completely I became engrossed in this story. I started with a paragraph description, then suddenly the story developed a life of its own. It is an example of the writing technique Blue Moon. I have never tried a fantasy or science fiction piece before.
4 Quad
Ambassador Jenkins leaned back in his mahogany leather, ergonomic executive office chair. He was quite proud of the vintage antique replica, circa 2290, of an original ergonomic executive office chair, circa 1990. He laid the brief pad he had been reading on his large mahogany desk, another vintage antique replica, and sighed. “Rrrrktka,” he spoke into the com unit on his desk. “Have you verified transport departure?” A small, dark and furry, 2 legged mounse the size of a small woman scuffled into the Jenkins office. “Transporrrrt verified sssir, you are to board the Nemesis at 0800” she said as she settled into one of the two leather chairs on the other side of Jenkin’s desk. She wrapped her tail neatly across her lap and over the arm of the chair. “Why, are you innnn a hurry to go?” she asked with a look that Jenkins knew was her smile. It was hard for humans to tell when a mounse was smiling as their long snout like mouths were perpetually formed into what humans identified as a grin.
“Now Rrrrktka, don’t try to bait me.” Jenkins sighed again, stood and stretched. He walked to the window overlooking the Euclid Wars Memorial. The square was teeming with people.
“Rrrrktka, I am going to leave Harcourt in charge while I am gone. Please help him as you help me. As difficult as things are now, he will need your good advice and assistance. “
Rrrrktka nodded, and stood up to leave the room. “Shallll I notify media relations as to the time of your departure?”
“Not this time,” Jenkins said. “This time I want to board without the headache of the media relations.” Rrrrktka walked out of the room and closed the door.
Jenkins spoke, “Della, download my itinerary titled “4 Quad Planet” to list number one. All the offices except the media relations office.” Jenkins knew he would have to throw some kind of information to the media at some point, but he was not in any hurry. He continued to ponder about the timing of his anouncement, and what to put into it. At length, he made a decision. He spoke to Della again. “Della, send Rrrrktka in.”
Della chimed. “Done.”
The door opened with a hiss and Rrrrktka walked in and seated herself again in one of the two chairs opposite Jenkins desk. Jenkins turned from the window and re-seated himself in his office chair.
“Rrrrktka, I want to send a communiqué to the media relations office next week telling them about the ambassadorial exchange. I want as little information as possible in that communiqué. Something like, Ambassador Jenkins is currently off world visiting the 4 Quad civilization. His visit to 4 Quad is part of an ambassadorial exchange aimed at promoting, etc..etc…yadda, yadda, and so on. You know what I want.”
Rrrrktka swished her wrapped tail end, “Dellllla did you get that?”
Della chimed assent.
“Jenkins, I rrrrealize that you are afraid of another media riot like the one last year, but issssn’t that why USCHEU formed the media relations department. Asss a governmentally regulated department, media relationsss controlllsss alll assspectsss of presss releasssesss and conferencesss. Why arrre you worried?”
Jenkins frowned, forming a crease between his eyebrows. “I am not worried. I just do not like the media, or the media relations department. I question their competency and do not want to give them too much information to speculate with. When I return, I will schedule a full press conference and provide the press with full, true details that they can’t misrepresent.”
Rrrrktka swished her tail end again, “By not tellling the presss what isss going on now, you open up ssspeculation. Coullldn’t that be worssse?”
“By not giving them any information, I deny them the ability to speculate Rrrrktka. That is what I am after. I don’t want any public opinion group, core Dem group, or any other group to start some wave of sentiment against our possible alliance with this planet.” Now Jenkins scowled outright.
Rrrrktka nodded, wisely keeping silent. Jenkins spoke again, “You know that it is as easy for a protest to get started as it is to snap your fingers. Oh! Sorry.” Mounses can’t snap their fingers.
“That’s ok. You can’t swish your tail.” They smiled at each other in a comfortableness born from long familiarity. “Anything elllssse whillle I’m here?” Rrrrktka asked pointedly. She didn’t like it when he kept calling her in to cover one point at a time.
“I think that was the last detail. At least I hope so. I am sorry to keep calling you in. I guess I could have left it all to Della, but you know I value your personal input.” Jenkins knew that would mollify Rrrrktka, and it did.
“Thank you Jenkinsss. I am glllad to be of assistance wherrrever I can. If that isss all forrr today, I will be llleaving. I have a dinnerrr date at the Rrrye Grrrain Templlle Café. I don’t want to be lllate. Pllleassse rrremember I have tomorrrow off. I will not sssee you beforrre yourrr rrreturrrn. I willl make an oferrring to Grrrain forrr the sssuccesss of yourrr trrrip.” Rrrrktka waited for Jenkins to affirm that she would not be needed again. Jenkins nodded. “That’s fine , yes, I think we are done here. If there is anything else, I will give it to Della and you can address it tomorrow. Have a good date. I hope you have a fruitful outcome. Thank you for the offering.”
As Jenkins watched Rrrrktka leave for the last time that day, he secretly gave thanks for the quirk of nature that had cause the GMO Mounse species to lose their ability to have more than one mounse in a litter. It was also good, he thought, that they could only have one litter every two years. It put them more on par with humans. Of course, humans could replicate without sex, but what was the fun in that? Jenkins sighed, stretching, and got up again. He walked to the wall across from his desk and activated the bar. He poured himself an Obama Slick. He rubbed his hair and sighed again,activating the hand lav. As he washed his hands in the air stream, he looked in the Holomir at his reflection. “Holo activate,” he said. The corresponding chime indicated his request had been received. “Brown hair, chin hair, black eyes.” His image changed. He did not like the look. After trying out a couple of more images, he decided to stay with his current look. Then a thought occurred to him. “Della, download information on 4 Quad anatomy, physical characteristics and variations to the Holomir. different chime took him out of his reflections. “Yes, Della?”
“You have a frit from the Nemesis.”
“Open. This is Jenkins.”
In the middle of the room, a man in uniform appeared, standing with his hands behind his back, he lifted his right hand in standard acknowledgement of the ambassador.
“Ambassador, this is Warhol of the Nemesis. I have fritted to your Hcom all pertinent information for your arrival aboard. Your Rrrrktka has given a detailed list of your requirements while on board. My Beta has attended to these personally. We look forward to your arrival.”
Jenkins nodded, then lifted his hand in the familiar acknowledgement. “Thank you Warhol of the Nemesis. I am certain that all my requirements will be attended to most satisfactorily. I look forward to the honor of boarding your ship.”
“We will greet you soon. Warhol out.” Warhol vanished.
Jenkins grunted, then walked to his desk. “Della prep meal number 15 for me.”
“Sorry that meal is not appropriate for you at this time. I suggest meal number 3.”
“I don’t want meal number 3. I want meal number 15.”
“Sorry, but meal number 15 is not allowed at this time.”
Jenkins felt irritation rise like a burst of steam. The steam immediately dissipated as he accepted the inevitable. He had been through this too many times not to know the outcome. “Alright Della, the number 3.”
From the wall, an Ai walked out with a steaming plate on a tray complete with napkin, utensils, and beverage. Draped over the Ais arm was a waiter’s towel. As the Ai placed the tray on the desk, fussing over the accompanying flower arrangement and condiments, Jenkins walked to the window again and looked out over the square. No need to wonder what the weather would be. It was always California perfect. He wished he had seen California before the WW VI war.
“Della, call Mom.” Once the frit to his mother was open, he began with the customary pleasantries.
“Yes, Mom, all is well with me. I am calling for a reason other than to catch up. I will be leaving the planet in 48 hours to go to a new planet we hope to ally with. I wanted to let you know and say goodbye. I should be back in 3 months.”
“3 months? That seems rather long. This planet you are going to, what is the name?”
“4 Quad. It is a 7 day journey by Hdrive. I will be boarding the Nemesis in 48 hours. The Nemesis will take me there and remain there with me. The 4 Quad civilization is relatively unknown to us. The information we have about their way of life is sketchy. What we do know is that they are a powerful civilization to all intents and purposes. We have met with them on three separate occasions, and it has been decided that an exchange of ambassadors will allow both sides to learn more about the core of the other civilization. What I have been told is that the 4 Quads are a precise, rather rigid society. They do everything in 4s. This is why I have been chosen to go. My precision and attention to detail was a plus in this situation.”
“Shall I frit over and see you off?”
“No, I’d rather you did not as it seems that whenever the media get wind of you, they turn out like kids going to a circus. I want to avoid any contact with them. All media events are now supposed to be scheduled through the media relations office, but there are still some rogue mediasts willing to pay a fine and spend time in the meditation cells just to get a story.”
“Perhaps I should change my face. Then no one would recognize me. Noooo??´she said seeing the look on her son’s face.
“Mom, you know someone could have a holovid diffuser. If they see you coming to the opolis, they will want to know why you have made the trip. I told you not to recluse yourself. Now, anytime you go anywhere, it’s news. I don’t want the mediasts to know that I am leaving until after I’m gone.”
“Then I want to see you before you leave. I will prepare for your arrival tonight.”
“But, I can’t come tonight….”
“Yes, you can and will. I will see you at 0600. Love you.”
Before Jenkins could protest more, she was gone. Jenkins smiled and realized he had known this would be the outcome of a chat with Mom. He realized the lack of time and jumped up. He had so much to do before dinner. “Della, arrange a transpar. Download the route to my mother’s house, the one in Auckland. Departure time 0500.” So much to do.
4 Quad
Jenkins eased himself into the chair. They were not built for humans, and he fidgeted a bit to find the most comfortable spot. He reviewed what he had learned thus far about the 4 Quads. He had created 2 reports. One for the media relations department, and one for USCHEU. The reports were very detailed. After all, he was a detailed man. He grunted as he thought about details. The 4 quads put him to shame when it came to details. He had never, ever, seen such a detailed and rigid society. Their entire life revolved around 4. Their homes, families, government, everything right down to the number of grids forming a sidewalk were 4 or a derivative of 4. They were, however, strangely silent about religious beliefs they might have.
He was currently reviewing the media relations departmental report. The report read: For the purpose of this report, I will refer to the members of the 4 Quad society as quad people or just 4 Quads. The 4 Quad civilization is a technologically superior civilization to ours. Largely agrarian, 4 Quad has much to offer our civilization if an alliance is finalized. I will summarize the significant advantages we can realize from a proposed partnership as well as the possible problems we may realize in that same partnership. The report was long and involved.
He continued to review the report until he came to his review of a typical 4 quad home. He re-read his description. The 4 Quad society is dominated by its rigidity and devotion to the equivalent of what we refer to as the number 4. All familial structures and homes are identical in a number of ways.
There are always 4 quad people in 4 rooms. When the 4 Quads bear progeny, a shifting of families occurs to assure that there are never more than 4 in a home. They bear children in 4s per familial unit. Each room of every home has 4 windows and each room has 4 walls. Every house has 4 doors. In every house there are 4 chairs, 4 beds, and 4 tables. None of the furniture is built as humans would build it. I have included vidpics. One room is the kitchen combined dining area. One room is for living use and the other two rooms are bedrooms. Each bedroom has a small bathroom off it. The 4 quads (quad people) do not consider bathrooms to be rooms. Their bathrooms are not anything like a human’s bathroom. The houses can vary in size and do, but all sizes, large or small, are derivatives of 4.
The 4 quads do not understand kitchens as we humans do. Their idea of food is more consistent with the feeding habits of a shark. I have included a special section on the vegetation, foods, and eating habits of the 4 Quads. They sleep 4 hours at a time, 4 times a day with a 32 hour day cycle as opposed to our 24 hour day cycle. Their language is a mathematical derivative of 4, and they do not understand the world of variety that we humans have. Within the homes are subtle variations of design such as artwork, fabrics, and other individualistic signs.
Jenkins stopped reading and eased himself out of the chair. He heard footfalls coming to the room he occupied within the 4 Quad home. This was the home of the 4 Quad ambassador who had traveled to Earth in his place. He remembered parts of lecture series on the 4 Quads from ambassadorial college. His teacher, Wong, the only Ambassador to have lived with the Euclids, had also been the first Ambassador to have contact with the 4 Quads. He thought about the information he had received from his visit to Wong to refresh himself on all available information and insight on the 4 Quads. It was then he found out Wong had been instrumental in the decision to send him to the 4 Quad planet. Wong had told him again the history of the discovery and first contact with the 4 Quads.
“We met them off world in the year 2040 after the Euclid Wars. We barely won those wars and needed to find allies to deter the Euclids from attempting more aggression. Earth had few resources left after the Wars. Rebuilding was difficult and slow. We sent ships out looking for other civilizations, and after an initial contact with the 4 Quad civilization, negotiations were started. They are still ongoing. The 4 Quads do not do anything in a hurry. It does not matter to them whether or not we need a quicker pace, they will only form an alliance if they have the time to study the matter and if they decide it’s to their advantage. We are no different. In an effort to quicken the pace, we have negotiated an ambassadorial visit to the 4 Quad planet. Because of your attention to detail, your own ambassadorial history, and my familiarity with you, with who you are, coupled with the extreme importance of this exchange, I have thrown my influence behind you. There are few planets we can ally with who could benefit us as much as the 4 Quads. You must give this your very best effort.” Wong had told him with all the seriousness of a man at a deathbed. “Affairs are more serious than you know.”
Jenkins felt the pressure as he had never felt on any other assignment. This was so very important. He knew it was, but because of Wong’s words, he knew that it was more important than he could see. Affairs were more serious. He wished he knew what that meant, and how they were more serious.
(to be continued)
4 Quad
Ambassador Jenkins leaned back in his mahogany leather, ergonomic executive office chair. He was quite proud of the vintage antique replica, circa 2290, of an original ergonomic executive office chair, circa 1990. He laid the brief pad he had been reading on his large mahogany desk, another vintage antique replica, and sighed. “Rrrrktka,” he spoke into the com unit on his desk. “Have you verified transport departure?” A small, dark and furry, 2 legged mounse the size of a small woman scuffled into the Jenkins office. “Transporrrrt verified sssir, you are to board the Nemesis at 0800” she said as she settled into one of the two leather chairs on the other side of Jenkin’s desk. She wrapped her tail neatly across her lap and over the arm of the chair. “Why, are you innnn a hurry to go?” she asked with a look that Jenkins knew was her smile. It was hard for humans to tell when a mounse was smiling as their long snout like mouths were perpetually formed into what humans identified as a grin.
“Now Rrrrktka, don’t try to bait me.” Jenkins sighed again, stood and stretched. He walked to the window overlooking the Euclid Wars Memorial. The square was teeming with people.
“Rrrrktka, I am going to leave Harcourt in charge while I am gone. Please help him as you help me. As difficult as things are now, he will need your good advice and assistance. “
Rrrrktka nodded, and stood up to leave the room. “Shallll I notify media relations as to the time of your departure?”
“Not this time,” Jenkins said. “This time I want to board without the headache of the media relations.” Rrrrktka walked out of the room and closed the door.
Jenkins spoke, “Della, download my itinerary titled “4 Quad Planet” to list number one. All the offices except the media relations office.” Jenkins knew he would have to throw some kind of information to the media at some point, but he was not in any hurry. He continued to ponder about the timing of his anouncement, and what to put into it. At length, he made a decision. He spoke to Della again. “Della, send Rrrrktka in.”
Della chimed. “Done.”
The door opened with a hiss and Rrrrktka walked in and seated herself again in one of the two chairs opposite Jenkins desk. Jenkins turned from the window and re-seated himself in his office chair.
“Rrrrktka, I want to send a communiqué to the media relations office next week telling them about the ambassadorial exchange. I want as little information as possible in that communiqué. Something like, Ambassador Jenkins is currently off world visiting the 4 Quad civilization. His visit to 4 Quad is part of an ambassadorial exchange aimed at promoting, etc..etc…yadda, yadda, and so on. You know what I want.”
Rrrrktka swished her wrapped tail end, “Dellllla did you get that?”
Della chimed assent.
“Jenkins, I rrrrealize that you are afraid of another media riot like the one last year, but issssn’t that why USCHEU formed the media relations department. Asss a governmentally regulated department, media relationsss controlllsss alll assspectsss of presss releasssesss and conferencesss. Why arrre you worried?”
Jenkins frowned, forming a crease between his eyebrows. “I am not worried. I just do not like the media, or the media relations department. I question their competency and do not want to give them too much information to speculate with. When I return, I will schedule a full press conference and provide the press with full, true details that they can’t misrepresent.”
Rrrrktka swished her tail end again, “By not tellling the presss what isss going on now, you open up ssspeculation. Coullldn’t that be worssse?”
“By not giving them any information, I deny them the ability to speculate Rrrrktka. That is what I am after. I don’t want any public opinion group, core Dem group, or any other group to start some wave of sentiment against our possible alliance with this planet.” Now Jenkins scowled outright.
Rrrrktka nodded, wisely keeping silent. Jenkins spoke again, “You know that it is as easy for a protest to get started as it is to snap your fingers. Oh! Sorry.” Mounses can’t snap their fingers.
“That’s ok. You can’t swish your tail.” They smiled at each other in a comfortableness born from long familiarity. “Anything elllssse whillle I’m here?” Rrrrktka asked pointedly. She didn’t like it when he kept calling her in to cover one point at a time.
“I think that was the last detail. At least I hope so. I am sorry to keep calling you in. I guess I could have left it all to Della, but you know I value your personal input.” Jenkins knew that would mollify Rrrrktka, and it did.
“Thank you Jenkinsss. I am glllad to be of assistance wherrrever I can. If that isss all forrr today, I will be llleaving. I have a dinnerrr date at the Rrrye Grrrain Templlle Café. I don’t want to be lllate. Pllleassse rrremember I have tomorrrow off. I will not sssee you beforrre yourrr rrreturrrn. I willl make an oferrring to Grrrain forrr the sssuccesss of yourrr trrrip.” Rrrrktka waited for Jenkins to affirm that she would not be needed again. Jenkins nodded. “That’s fine , yes, I think we are done here. If there is anything else, I will give it to Della and you can address it tomorrow. Have a good date. I hope you have a fruitful outcome. Thank you for the offering.”
As Jenkins watched Rrrrktka leave for the last time that day, he secretly gave thanks for the quirk of nature that had cause the GMO Mounse species to lose their ability to have more than one mounse in a litter. It was also good, he thought, that they could only have one litter every two years. It put them more on par with humans. Of course, humans could replicate without sex, but what was the fun in that? Jenkins sighed, stretching, and got up again. He walked to the wall across from his desk and activated the bar. He poured himself an Obama Slick. He rubbed his hair and sighed again,activating the hand lav. As he washed his hands in the air stream, he looked in the Holomir at his reflection. “Holo activate,” he said. The corresponding chime indicated his request had been received. “Brown hair, chin hair, black eyes.” His image changed. He did not like the look. After trying out a couple of more images, he decided to stay with his current look. Then a thought occurred to him. “Della, download information on 4 Quad anatomy, physical characteristics and variations to the Holomir. different chime took him out of his reflections. “Yes, Della?”
“You have a frit from the Nemesis.”
“Open. This is Jenkins.”
In the middle of the room, a man in uniform appeared, standing with his hands behind his back, he lifted his right hand in standard acknowledgement of the ambassador.
“Ambassador, this is Warhol of the Nemesis. I have fritted to your Hcom all pertinent information for your arrival aboard. Your Rrrrktka has given a detailed list of your requirements while on board. My Beta has attended to these personally. We look forward to your arrival.”
Jenkins nodded, then lifted his hand in the familiar acknowledgement. “Thank you Warhol of the Nemesis. I am certain that all my requirements will be attended to most satisfactorily. I look forward to the honor of boarding your ship.”
“We will greet you soon. Warhol out.” Warhol vanished.
Jenkins grunted, then walked to his desk. “Della prep meal number 15 for me.”
“Sorry that meal is not appropriate for you at this time. I suggest meal number 3.”
“I don’t want meal number 3. I want meal number 15.”
“Sorry, but meal number 15 is not allowed at this time.”
Jenkins felt irritation rise like a burst of steam. The steam immediately dissipated as he accepted the inevitable. He had been through this too many times not to know the outcome. “Alright Della, the number 3.”
From the wall, an Ai walked out with a steaming plate on a tray complete with napkin, utensils, and beverage. Draped over the Ais arm was a waiter’s towel. As the Ai placed the tray on the desk, fussing over the accompanying flower arrangement and condiments, Jenkins walked to the window again and looked out over the square. No need to wonder what the weather would be. It was always California perfect. He wished he had seen California before the WW VI war.
“Della, call Mom.” Once the frit to his mother was open, he began with the customary pleasantries.
“Yes, Mom, all is well with me. I am calling for a reason other than to catch up. I will be leaving the planet in 48 hours to go to a new planet we hope to ally with. I wanted to let you know and say goodbye. I should be back in 3 months.”
“3 months? That seems rather long. This planet you are going to, what is the name?”
“4 Quad. It is a 7 day journey by Hdrive. I will be boarding the Nemesis in 48 hours. The Nemesis will take me there and remain there with me. The 4 Quad civilization is relatively unknown to us. The information we have about their way of life is sketchy. What we do know is that they are a powerful civilization to all intents and purposes. We have met with them on three separate occasions, and it has been decided that an exchange of ambassadors will allow both sides to learn more about the core of the other civilization. What I have been told is that the 4 Quads are a precise, rather rigid society. They do everything in 4s. This is why I have been chosen to go. My precision and attention to detail was a plus in this situation.”
“Shall I frit over and see you off?”
“No, I’d rather you did not as it seems that whenever the media get wind of you, they turn out like kids going to a circus. I want to avoid any contact with them. All media events are now supposed to be scheduled through the media relations office, but there are still some rogue mediasts willing to pay a fine and spend time in the meditation cells just to get a story.”
“Perhaps I should change my face. Then no one would recognize me. Noooo??´she said seeing the look on her son’s face.
“Mom, you know someone could have a holovid diffuser. If they see you coming to the opolis, they will want to know why you have made the trip. I told you not to recluse yourself. Now, anytime you go anywhere, it’s news. I don’t want the mediasts to know that I am leaving until after I’m gone.”
“Then I want to see you before you leave. I will prepare for your arrival tonight.”
“But, I can’t come tonight….”
“Yes, you can and will. I will see you at 0600. Love you.”
Before Jenkins could protest more, she was gone. Jenkins smiled and realized he had known this would be the outcome of a chat with Mom. He realized the lack of time and jumped up. He had so much to do before dinner. “Della, arrange a transpar. Download the route to my mother’s house, the one in Auckland. Departure time 0500.” So much to do.
4 Quad
Jenkins eased himself into the chair. They were not built for humans, and he fidgeted a bit to find the most comfortable spot. He reviewed what he had learned thus far about the 4 Quads. He had created 2 reports. One for the media relations department, and one for USCHEU. The reports were very detailed. After all, he was a detailed man. He grunted as he thought about details. The 4 quads put him to shame when it came to details. He had never, ever, seen such a detailed and rigid society. Their entire life revolved around 4. Their homes, families, government, everything right down to the number of grids forming a sidewalk were 4 or a derivative of 4. They were, however, strangely silent about religious beliefs they might have.
He was currently reviewing the media relations departmental report. The report read: For the purpose of this report, I will refer to the members of the 4 Quad society as quad people or just 4 Quads. The 4 Quad civilization is a technologically superior civilization to ours. Largely agrarian, 4 Quad has much to offer our civilization if an alliance is finalized. I will summarize the significant advantages we can realize from a proposed partnership as well as the possible problems we may realize in that same partnership. The report was long and involved.
He continued to review the report until he came to his review of a typical 4 quad home. He re-read his description. The 4 Quad society is dominated by its rigidity and devotion to the equivalent of what we refer to as the number 4. All familial structures and homes are identical in a number of ways.
There are always 4 quad people in 4 rooms. When the 4 Quads bear progeny, a shifting of families occurs to assure that there are never more than 4 in a home. They bear children in 4s per familial unit. Each room of every home has 4 windows and each room has 4 walls. Every house has 4 doors. In every house there are 4 chairs, 4 beds, and 4 tables. None of the furniture is built as humans would build it. I have included vidpics. One room is the kitchen combined dining area. One room is for living use and the other two rooms are bedrooms. Each bedroom has a small bathroom off it. The 4 quads (quad people) do not consider bathrooms to be rooms. Their bathrooms are not anything like a human’s bathroom. The houses can vary in size and do, but all sizes, large or small, are derivatives of 4.
The 4 quads do not understand kitchens as we humans do. Their idea of food is more consistent with the feeding habits of a shark. I have included a special section on the vegetation, foods, and eating habits of the 4 Quads. They sleep 4 hours at a time, 4 times a day with a 32 hour day cycle as opposed to our 24 hour day cycle. Their language is a mathematical derivative of 4, and they do not understand the world of variety that we humans have. Within the homes are subtle variations of design such as artwork, fabrics, and other individualistic signs.
Jenkins stopped reading and eased himself out of the chair. He heard footfalls coming to the room he occupied within the 4 Quad home. This was the home of the 4 Quad ambassador who had traveled to Earth in his place. He remembered parts of lecture series on the 4 Quads from ambassadorial college. His teacher, Wong, the only Ambassador to have lived with the Euclids, had also been the first Ambassador to have contact with the 4 Quads. He thought about the information he had received from his visit to Wong to refresh himself on all available information and insight on the 4 Quads. It was then he found out Wong had been instrumental in the decision to send him to the 4 Quad planet. Wong had told him again the history of the discovery and first contact with the 4 Quads.
“We met them off world in the year 2040 after the Euclid Wars. We barely won those wars and needed to find allies to deter the Euclids from attempting more aggression. Earth had few resources left after the Wars. Rebuilding was difficult and slow. We sent ships out looking for other civilizations, and after an initial contact with the 4 Quad civilization, negotiations were started. They are still ongoing. The 4 Quads do not do anything in a hurry. It does not matter to them whether or not we need a quicker pace, they will only form an alliance if they have the time to study the matter and if they decide it’s to their advantage. We are no different. In an effort to quicken the pace, we have negotiated an ambassadorial visit to the 4 Quad planet. Because of your attention to detail, your own ambassadorial history, and my familiarity with you, with who you are, coupled with the extreme importance of this exchange, I have thrown my influence behind you. There are few planets we can ally with who could benefit us as much as the 4 Quads. You must give this your very best effort.” Wong had told him with all the seriousness of a man at a deathbed. “Affairs are more serious than you know.”
Jenkins felt the pressure as he had never felt on any other assignment. This was so very important. He knew it was, but because of Wong’s words, he knew that it was more important than he could see. Affairs were more serious. He wished he knew what that meant, and how they were more serious.
(to be continued)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Spring Lake
The sun beat down on Jonah’s head as he trudged across the part dirt, part alley behind the dilapidated building that passed for a store in town. The wind blew grits of sand into his pores competing with the sweat that poured out of them to create rivulets of grime running down his face. He longed for a cold drink right about now. As he came to the end of the alley, he turned and trotted around the corner of the store, stepping onto the hot pavement that ran along Main Street. He hesitated, slinking back into the alley and slipped into the shadow of the store building for a moment thinking furiously. To get to his car he had to cross Main Street, and this was as good a place as any. Main Street, there was a Main Street in almost every town in America. Man! He wanted a drink of water, like NOW!
Jonah stepped out of the shadow, rounded the corner of the building and began to trot down the sidewalk feeling the pressure to get off of Main and back out of sight. Lucky, he thought, that downtown was deserted. So early and already so hot. He wished he hadn’t left his Ruger in the car. He was almost there and no sign of them. As he neared the side street where his car was parked, he slowed and slipped behind the bushes in front of the Tool & Die building. Thank God for landscaping!
Jonah crouched, looking the nearly empty street over. He scanned the rooftops, peering at the windows of the buildings for movement, and tried to ignore the cloud of gnats that had surrounded his face. He swatted at the gnats and tried to decide whether or not to step out into the open. If he waited and A&B were not out there now, they soon would be and he would blow his opportunity to drive out of here. If he stepped out into the open and they were already here waiting, they would blow him away. The tension showed in his locked jaw, a tic pulsed in his temple making his eye twitch. This was ridiculous! He had to just make a decision. He stood slowly, scanning for movement. There was none. He stepped out from the bushes and began running for the car, digging in his pocket for the keys. Almost there. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and began to zig zag as he sped up. He felt a burning sensation across his right temple! Ahhhhh! Pain!!!! He pressed the unlock button on his car remote, pulled the door open and started the car. Bullets were flying, hitting his car. He put the car in gear and hit the gas. In his rear mirror, he saw the A&B agents standing where his car had just been, they were aiming for his tires! “Please don’t let them hit the tires, gas tank, let them miss! Please!!” It was as if a veil had dropped between his car and the bullets. No more hit him as he sped away.
It took three hours of driving before he began to feel hope that he was not going to be found. He had made sure they would not follow him by disabling their vehicles when he first arrived. It was easy to recognize their rides with their special plates. They had not expected him to be there. He felt confident that it would take them too long to get reinforcements and he would be gone. As he drove, he began to plan his next move. It was a sure bet that A&D would be at his apartment, agency headquarters, Donnegans, anywhere they thought he might show up. He wasn’t that stupid. He felt a stab of fear that A&B might find his parents, but reassured himself that he’d done a good job of hiding them. The problem at hand was where to hide himself. He had to protect the source! He was blind with no means to communicate. He could not use his cell or attempt to contact any of his usual contacts. He had to assume that A&B would have already thought of them. It was then that he realized where to go. What a fool he was!
Jonah looked for a car like his as he drove through the small towns until he found one. He waited until he could switch the plates between the two vehicles. In town after town, he stopped to buy gas cans and fill them up with gasoline. He purchased toilet tissue, paper towels, jerky, cans of food, beverages, and other assorted items, careful to hide his face underneath the wide brim of the baseball cap he now wore. He avoided the roads and intersections where the traffic cameras were as much as possible. Once he had enough supplies, he backed the car into a grove of trees on a dirt track off of a county highway. It was only then that he slept.
Jonah awoke to the sound of his cell phone alarm. It was dark, but a full moon was providing enough light through the trees to let Jonah see. Jonah relieved himself, ate a cold hoagie and chips, then started the car and drove back to the highway. Refreshed, he drove for hours without stopping. The roads gradually changed from highway to gravel, then dirt. So far so good, he thought. He listened to country 101 as he looked for the unmarked dirt road, path really, that would take him to his destination. Not another traveler around in this wilderness. His next problem would be where to stow the car. As he turned off the road onto the dirt path, he slowed down, then came to a stop 300 feet in. Breaking off a branch, he walked back to the road and carefully brushed away the tire tracks. He repeated this three times so that someone would have to drive in quite a ways before seeing the tire tracks. He hoped that by the time anyone came in that far, the tracks would have disappeared.
By the time Jonah had come to the end of the dirt path, daylight was approaching. He continued to drive the car until the ground was too rugged. He had been looking for a place to hide the car and drove until he came to another stand of trees. He pulled the car under the trees and covered it with the camouflage tarp he had purchased. He then scrounged for brush and branches and covered the car further. It was then he realized that he had not taken out his gear.
Jonah set out with a full pack on his back. He had stacked the rest of the gear under the tarp on the ground. It would take a few trips, but it would be worth it to have what he needed and be off the grid. The sun was hot and the pack on his back was heavy. He kept thinking about the first time he had come here. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that this place would get his partner killed, start a full scale manhunt, and put everyone he loved in danger. He knew that if he remained here long enough he would outlast the hunt for him. He was not sure he could last out here as long as he would need to, but if it meant that his parents, his family would be safe, then he would have to find a way.
It took him 6 days to get all the gear from the car and make the trek back and forth. He saw no one during that whole time. On the last trip he removed as much evidence as possible of his tracks. It took another day to organize his camp and establish a perimeter. It was then that the reality of his decision set in. That first day when he and his partner, Trevor, had answered the homicide call to Rearden apartments, he had thought that he would be looking at the newest in a string of robbery homicides. The case had finally been put into his department’s hands and he had been excited to be assigned to it. He wished he could go back. He would have done everything differently if he had just known.
Now, he would have to wait here….for how long? It wouldn’t matter when the food ran out. His parents would die and not know what had happened to him, but they would be safe. The world would go on and his name would disappear from the rank and file. He knew that at some point someone would find the car. He hoped later than sooner. He was sure that no one would ever find this place without help. It had been a well kept secret for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. As dusk settled in and the cicadas sound off became almost deafening, Jonah walked to the stream, filled his cup and drank deeply. He stood and waited for the rush. When it came, he realized that his knee was no longer hurting. After twenty years of pain, the absence of pain was proof in itself. He looked at his reflection in the water of a small pool that had collected. The lines in his forehead were gone already. He walked back to his folding chair and camp table, pulled out one of the notebooks and a pencil. He began to write. He began the wait.
Jonah stepped out of the shadow, rounded the corner of the building and began to trot down the sidewalk feeling the pressure to get off of Main and back out of sight. Lucky, he thought, that downtown was deserted. So early and already so hot. He wished he hadn’t left his Ruger in the car. He was almost there and no sign of them. As he neared the side street where his car was parked, he slowed and slipped behind the bushes in front of the Tool & Die building. Thank God for landscaping!
Jonah crouched, looking the nearly empty street over. He scanned the rooftops, peering at the windows of the buildings for movement, and tried to ignore the cloud of gnats that had surrounded his face. He swatted at the gnats and tried to decide whether or not to step out into the open. If he waited and A&B were not out there now, they soon would be and he would blow his opportunity to drive out of here. If he stepped out into the open and they were already here waiting, they would blow him away. The tension showed in his locked jaw, a tic pulsed in his temple making his eye twitch. This was ridiculous! He had to just make a decision. He stood slowly, scanning for movement. There was none. He stepped out from the bushes and began running for the car, digging in his pocket for the keys. Almost there. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and began to zig zag as he sped up. He felt a burning sensation across his right temple! Ahhhhh! Pain!!!! He pressed the unlock button on his car remote, pulled the door open and started the car. Bullets were flying, hitting his car. He put the car in gear and hit the gas. In his rear mirror, he saw the A&B agents standing where his car had just been, they were aiming for his tires! “Please don’t let them hit the tires, gas tank, let them miss! Please!!” It was as if a veil had dropped between his car and the bullets. No more hit him as he sped away.
It took three hours of driving before he began to feel hope that he was not going to be found. He had made sure they would not follow him by disabling their vehicles when he first arrived. It was easy to recognize their rides with their special plates. They had not expected him to be there. He felt confident that it would take them too long to get reinforcements and he would be gone. As he drove, he began to plan his next move. It was a sure bet that A&D would be at his apartment, agency headquarters, Donnegans, anywhere they thought he might show up. He wasn’t that stupid. He felt a stab of fear that A&B might find his parents, but reassured himself that he’d done a good job of hiding them. The problem at hand was where to hide himself. He had to protect the source! He was blind with no means to communicate. He could not use his cell or attempt to contact any of his usual contacts. He had to assume that A&B would have already thought of them. It was then that he realized where to go. What a fool he was!
Jonah looked for a car like his as he drove through the small towns until he found one. He waited until he could switch the plates between the two vehicles. In town after town, he stopped to buy gas cans and fill them up with gasoline. He purchased toilet tissue, paper towels, jerky, cans of food, beverages, and other assorted items, careful to hide his face underneath the wide brim of the baseball cap he now wore. He avoided the roads and intersections where the traffic cameras were as much as possible. Once he had enough supplies, he backed the car into a grove of trees on a dirt track off of a county highway. It was only then that he slept.
Jonah awoke to the sound of his cell phone alarm. It was dark, but a full moon was providing enough light through the trees to let Jonah see. Jonah relieved himself, ate a cold hoagie and chips, then started the car and drove back to the highway. Refreshed, he drove for hours without stopping. The roads gradually changed from highway to gravel, then dirt. So far so good, he thought. He listened to country 101 as he looked for the unmarked dirt road, path really, that would take him to his destination. Not another traveler around in this wilderness. His next problem would be where to stow the car. As he turned off the road onto the dirt path, he slowed down, then came to a stop 300 feet in. Breaking off a branch, he walked back to the road and carefully brushed away the tire tracks. He repeated this three times so that someone would have to drive in quite a ways before seeing the tire tracks. He hoped that by the time anyone came in that far, the tracks would have disappeared.
By the time Jonah had come to the end of the dirt path, daylight was approaching. He continued to drive the car until the ground was too rugged. He had been looking for a place to hide the car and drove until he came to another stand of trees. He pulled the car under the trees and covered it with the camouflage tarp he had purchased. He then scrounged for brush and branches and covered the car further. It was then he realized that he had not taken out his gear.
Jonah set out with a full pack on his back. He had stacked the rest of the gear under the tarp on the ground. It would take a few trips, but it would be worth it to have what he needed and be off the grid. The sun was hot and the pack on his back was heavy. He kept thinking about the first time he had come here. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that this place would get his partner killed, start a full scale manhunt, and put everyone he loved in danger. He knew that if he remained here long enough he would outlast the hunt for him. He was not sure he could last out here as long as he would need to, but if it meant that his parents, his family would be safe, then he would have to find a way.
It took him 6 days to get all the gear from the car and make the trek back and forth. He saw no one during that whole time. On the last trip he removed as much evidence as possible of his tracks. It took another day to organize his camp and establish a perimeter. It was then that the reality of his decision set in. That first day when he and his partner, Trevor, had answered the homicide call to Rearden apartments, he had thought that he would be looking at the newest in a string of robbery homicides. The case had finally been put into his department’s hands and he had been excited to be assigned to it. He wished he could go back. He would have done everything differently if he had just known.
Now, he would have to wait here….for how long? It wouldn’t matter when the food ran out. His parents would die and not know what had happened to him, but they would be safe. The world would go on and his name would disappear from the rank and file. He knew that at some point someone would find the car. He hoped later than sooner. He was sure that no one would ever find this place without help. It had been a well kept secret for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. As dusk settled in and the cicadas sound off became almost deafening, Jonah walked to the stream, filled his cup and drank deeply. He stood and waited for the rush. When it came, he realized that his knee was no longer hurting. After twenty years of pain, the absence of pain was proof in itself. He looked at his reflection in the water of a small pool that had collected. The lines in his forehead were gone already. He walked back to his folding chair and camp table, pulled out one of the notebooks and a pencil. He began to write. He began the wait.
Mrs. Norris
Mrs. Norris was short, shorter than me, and I am only five foot four inches. She was heavy, walked, swaying side to side like a penguin. Her hair was thinning, she had a long somewhat curved nose, dark eyes, and rarely smiled. She was my fifth grade teacher. Mrs. Norris was retiring after this school year.
I liked Mrs. Norris. She was mild mannered, ruling the classroom with a fist of iron in a velvet glove. No one got away with anything really, and she was fair. I think I may have been one of her more challenging students that year, but I will never know for sure. Mrs. Norris never gave any indication that one student was more challenging or troubling than another and she taught differently than my other teachers had. She was extremely patient. I remember her careful correction of my sort of friend Tim, over his hand writing, and how she gently and firmly conditioned the students to stop leaving their seats all the time. She worked with a couple of kids to stop fidgeting all the time and helped them to learn to focus on their schoolwork. She really was amazing.
Our teachers ate lunch with us, teaching and correcting us on our manners. They went to recess with us and we played games together as a class. We would compete with other classes at times. This created a solidarity in our group that I missed in later years of school. The grade school was in one building, the high school was in an adjacent building, and the lunch room was in the high school building. Both buildings had their own gymnasium. When it was time to go to lunch, Mrs. Norris would have us all go to the rest room, wash our hands, and line up in single file. She would then lead us down the second story stairs and out of the building, down the outside steps, then down the sidewalk to the high school building, up the steps, and down the long corridor to the lunch room. Each grade and room in that grade was given a specific time for lunch. We would each take a tray, and cafeteria style, get our food handed to us by the cooks and the students working for their lunch. If a student had a financial need, they would go to the cafeteria and work in the kitchen preparing food, handing out food, and cleaning up after lunches. That student would in return get a free meal.
I was always very hungry by our lunch time of 11:30am. Although I was not a fidgeter, I did draw Mrs. Norris’s attention with my impatience. She had spoken to me several times about my rush to be first in line, my irritation with someone who did not move as quickly as I, or my refusal to take the required time on schoolwork to do a quality job. Then, she stopped speaking to me about any of these things.
We were following our daily ritual of lunch one day and I was sooooo hungry. The weather was still nice, it must have been springtime as we were not wearing jackets or dressed up in any way. Mrs. Norris was wearing sandals with low heels on them. I was first in line which often happened. She was soooooo slow at walking. I hated the fact that we had to follow her to the lunch room. This time she was even slower than usual. It seemed as if she had slowed down on purpose. I danced around, stepping forward and back, paying attention to who was out on the playground, and wondering what we were having for lunch today, when I felt a hard bump under my toes. I looked down and realized in horror that I had just stepped on the back of Mrs. Norris’s sandal, and horror of horrors, the back of her shoe had come off her foot!
Mrs. Norris did not immediately turn around. She did not immediately do anything. When she did finally turn around, she looked at me for a verrrrrry long time. Then she said, “Valora…….haste makes waste.” She then took an excruciatingly long time to reach down and slip the back of her sandal on to her foot. Then she slowly…………turned around and began the slowest walk of the entire school year to the lunch room. The other kids in my class were mad at me for how long it took to get to lunch. Our recess time was cut by a full half because of the “sandal” incident.
After the “sandal” incident, all Mrs. Norris had to say was “Valora, haste makes waste”, and I would realize what she was speaking of and concentrate on slowing down. To this day, I will start to get in a rush, things begin to go wrong, and I will remind myself that haste makes waste.
Mrs. Norris retired after my class. I still remember her with fondness. She taught me a great lesson and did so without denigrating me or nagging. She was a wonderful teacher who used the “Old School” method of teaching which is waiting for the opportunity to teach to present itself. The school lost a wonderful teacher when she retired.
I liked Mrs. Norris. She was mild mannered, ruling the classroom with a fist of iron in a velvet glove. No one got away with anything really, and she was fair. I think I may have been one of her more challenging students that year, but I will never know for sure. Mrs. Norris never gave any indication that one student was more challenging or troubling than another and she taught differently than my other teachers had. She was extremely patient. I remember her careful correction of my sort of friend Tim, over his hand writing, and how she gently and firmly conditioned the students to stop leaving their seats all the time. She worked with a couple of kids to stop fidgeting all the time and helped them to learn to focus on their schoolwork. She really was amazing.
Our teachers ate lunch with us, teaching and correcting us on our manners. They went to recess with us and we played games together as a class. We would compete with other classes at times. This created a solidarity in our group that I missed in later years of school. The grade school was in one building, the high school was in an adjacent building, and the lunch room was in the high school building. Both buildings had their own gymnasium. When it was time to go to lunch, Mrs. Norris would have us all go to the rest room, wash our hands, and line up in single file. She would then lead us down the second story stairs and out of the building, down the outside steps, then down the sidewalk to the high school building, up the steps, and down the long corridor to the lunch room. Each grade and room in that grade was given a specific time for lunch. We would each take a tray, and cafeteria style, get our food handed to us by the cooks and the students working for their lunch. If a student had a financial need, they would go to the cafeteria and work in the kitchen preparing food, handing out food, and cleaning up after lunches. That student would in return get a free meal.
I was always very hungry by our lunch time of 11:30am. Although I was not a fidgeter, I did draw Mrs. Norris’s attention with my impatience. She had spoken to me several times about my rush to be first in line, my irritation with someone who did not move as quickly as I, or my refusal to take the required time on schoolwork to do a quality job. Then, she stopped speaking to me about any of these things.
We were following our daily ritual of lunch one day and I was sooooo hungry. The weather was still nice, it must have been springtime as we were not wearing jackets or dressed up in any way. Mrs. Norris was wearing sandals with low heels on them. I was first in line which often happened. She was soooooo slow at walking. I hated the fact that we had to follow her to the lunch room. This time she was even slower than usual. It seemed as if she had slowed down on purpose. I danced around, stepping forward and back, paying attention to who was out on the playground, and wondering what we were having for lunch today, when I felt a hard bump under my toes. I looked down and realized in horror that I had just stepped on the back of Mrs. Norris’s sandal, and horror of horrors, the back of her shoe had come off her foot!
Mrs. Norris did not immediately turn around. She did not immediately do anything. When she did finally turn around, she looked at me for a verrrrrry long time. Then she said, “Valora…….haste makes waste.” She then took an excruciatingly long time to reach down and slip the back of her sandal on to her foot. Then she slowly…………turned around and began the slowest walk of the entire school year to the lunch room. The other kids in my class were mad at me for how long it took to get to lunch. Our recess time was cut by a full half because of the “sandal” incident.
After the “sandal” incident, all Mrs. Norris had to say was “Valora, haste makes waste”, and I would realize what she was speaking of and concentrate on slowing down. To this day, I will start to get in a rush, things begin to go wrong, and I will remind myself that haste makes waste.
Mrs. Norris retired after my class. I still remember her with fondness. She taught me a great lesson and did so without denigrating me or nagging. She was a wonderful teacher who used the “Old School” method of teaching which is waiting for the opportunity to teach to present itself. The school lost a wonderful teacher when she retired.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Only A Game (Writing Technique Aha!)
The firefight was fierce as bullets bounced off of rocks, embedded into bark, kicked up dirt, and disappeared who knew where. Holly, Jimmy, and James were pinned down behind a large fallen log. They had been ambushed and had barely made the safety of the log. The fire was so fierce they could only lift their guns over their heads and shoot randomly to keep the enemy back. "We're pinned down!" Holly shouted into her com unit. "A little help here?" "On our way." came back the answer. "No way we're getting out of here without getting shot." yelled Jimmy. Holly tried to figure out how long before the other team would arrive. She counted ammo and told Jimmy and James to count theirs. "We're low. Only fire enough to keep them back." Jimmy raised his head above the log. "Get down Jimmy!" both Holly and James yelled in unison.
Holly peeked over the log and realized that the enemy was advancing one tree at a time toward them. Then she saw her team, their reinforcements, coming up behind the enemy. She turned to Jimmy and James, "We've got them in a crossfire." Over the comm unit, she heard the orders to take aim and kill the enemy. The last thing anyone wanted was to hit friendlies, so this was where their sharpshooting skills came into play. Almost as one, Holly, Jimmy, and James raised up on one knee, lifting their heads and shoulders above the log, and took aim at the enemy soldiers. The enemy soldiers were falling fast as the reinforcements fired from behind them. Soon it was over and silence settled for a moment like a bird perched on a branch.
As Holly's team stood looking at the carnage, Donald's reinforcement team joined them. "That was awesome!" Donald yelled revved up from the fighting. James, Jimmy, and the other soldiers began yelling and dancing up and down, stomping their feet on the ground.
"Jimmy! James!" a voice echoed throughout the woods. The boys stopped dancing and looked at the others. They blinked as if waking from a dream. "Ahhhhh, we have to go. Mom's got supper ready." As the boys collected their toy guns, the other kids picked up their possessions. The boys and girls who had been 'dead on the ground' got up, each one pronouncing some form of indignation at being torn from their world of play .Each child began to walk to his or her home. Playtime was over for the day. (Writing technique Aha, a character comes to a realization of some sort.)
Holly peeked over the log and realized that the enemy was advancing one tree at a time toward them. Then she saw her team, their reinforcements, coming up behind the enemy. She turned to Jimmy and James, "We've got them in a crossfire." Over the comm unit, she heard the orders to take aim and kill the enemy. The last thing anyone wanted was to hit friendlies, so this was where their sharpshooting skills came into play. Almost as one, Holly, Jimmy, and James raised up on one knee, lifting their heads and shoulders above the log, and took aim at the enemy soldiers. The enemy soldiers were falling fast as the reinforcements fired from behind them. Soon it was over and silence settled for a moment like a bird perched on a branch.
As Holly's team stood looking at the carnage, Donald's reinforcement team joined them. "That was awesome!" Donald yelled revved up from the fighting. James, Jimmy, and the other soldiers began yelling and dancing up and down, stomping their feet on the ground.
"Jimmy! James!" a voice echoed throughout the woods. The boys stopped dancing and looked at the others. They blinked as if waking from a dream. "Ahhhhh, we have to go. Mom's got supper ready." As the boys collected their toy guns, the other kids picked up their possessions. The boys and girls who had been 'dead on the ground' got up, each one pronouncing some form of indignation at being torn from their world of play .Each child began to walk to his or her home. Playtime was over for the day. (Writing technique Aha, a character comes to a realization of some sort.)
Sunday, October 4, 2009
PHONING HOME
As he dialed the phone, Jerry remembered the last conversation he had with his parents. It had been too long. "Hello? How are you son?"
"Fine, Mom, how are you?"
"We're ok, Dad is at work, I know he will be sorry he missed you.
Jerry responded, "I'll call again to talk to him. We have been really busy, Allie is taking three classes and working nearly full time. I am working 40 plus at my job. We just have so much going on. Seems like something is going on with her family all the time."
Jerry winced realizing he had hit a sore spot.
There was silence on the other end, then his mother said, "That's ok, I just wish you would remember to call more often. I, we...miss you so."
Jerry could tell by his mother's voice that it was not 'ok'. He felt guilty and he hated feeling guilty.
His voice hardened as he responded to his mother's question, "Did you get the package I sent?"
"No, Mom, not yet."
"It should be coming any day now. We are thinking of going on a cruise sometime in January or February if we can afford the time and the money. We've never been on a cruise and we'd like to try one. How's the weather? It's cold here now."
"The weather's good here, warm and sunny." Jerry winced again. Another sore point. He lived where the weather was nice all year long and his parents were heading into winter.
"Mom, you know that if I could afford it, I would bring you and Dad here to live. My job is here and Allie's family is here, and..
"Son, don't. I know all this and I want you to be happy. I am not asking you to move here. I wish we could up and move there, but we can't, at least not right now with the economy and all. I would ask, though, if I thought you'd pick up and move" she sighed, "but I accept the way things are. I just wish you would call more often. It is hard to have you live so far away, and I just wish....." Her voice trailed off.
Jerry's irritation turned into understanding. "I love you Mother. I will call more often."
They went on to talk of small things, movies, food eaten, places visited, items bought, news, and job talk.
When Jerry finally rang off, he turned to Allie. "Help me remember to call my Dad tomorrow. Let's set the calendar on our phones to call my parents next week."
She smiled at him and pulled out her phone. (This is an example of the book Making Shapely Fiction's technique called Onion. In the Onion, situations take place inside situations that are within larger situations. The characters are caught in layers of layers.)
"Fine, Mom, how are you?"
"We're ok, Dad is at work, I know he will be sorry he missed you.
Jerry responded, "I'll call again to talk to him. We have been really busy, Allie is taking three classes and working nearly full time. I am working 40 plus at my job. We just have so much going on. Seems like something is going on with her family all the time."
Jerry winced realizing he had hit a sore spot.
There was silence on the other end, then his mother said, "That's ok, I just wish you would remember to call more often. I, we...miss you so."
Jerry could tell by his mother's voice that it was not 'ok'. He felt guilty and he hated feeling guilty.
His voice hardened as he responded to his mother's question, "Did you get the package I sent?"
"No, Mom, not yet."
"It should be coming any day now. We are thinking of going on a cruise sometime in January or February if we can afford the time and the money. We've never been on a cruise and we'd like to try one. How's the weather? It's cold here now."
"The weather's good here, warm and sunny." Jerry winced again. Another sore point. He lived where the weather was nice all year long and his parents were heading into winter.
"Mom, you know that if I could afford it, I would bring you and Dad here to live. My job is here and Allie's family is here, and..
"Son, don't. I know all this and I want you to be happy. I am not asking you to move here. I wish we could up and move there, but we can't, at least not right now with the economy and all. I would ask, though, if I thought you'd pick up and move" she sighed, "but I accept the way things are. I just wish you would call more often. It is hard to have you live so far away, and I just wish....." Her voice trailed off.
Jerry's irritation turned into understanding. "I love you Mother. I will call more often."
They went on to talk of small things, movies, food eaten, places visited, items bought, news, and job talk.
When Jerry finally rang off, he turned to Allie. "Help me remember to call my Dad tomorrow. Let's set the calendar on our phones to call my parents next week."
She smiled at him and pulled out her phone. (This is an example of the book Making Shapely Fiction's technique called Onion. In the Onion, situations take place inside situations that are within larger situations. The characters are caught in layers of layers.)
The Bus Ride
Five more minutes, just five more and the bus would come. She bounced from one foot to the other, trying not to seem too impatient, or to seem too cold. Not that it mattered, no one else was at this stop. Just a few more months and no more bus riding. She stepped toward the curb, putting one foot on the street, careful not to get too far out and be hit by a passing car. As she peered down the street, she saw a woman walking toward the bus shelter. Behind the woman was a tall man. Something seemed odd about the woman and man. She turned back to peering down the street looking for the bus. There it was, small in the distance, but definitely on its way. She stepped back off of the street and turned toward the shelter. Damn! The man and woman had stepped into the shelter.
She walked to the side of the shelter, using it as a windbreak. She couldn't help noticing how close the man stood to the woman and how she was turned away from him. He was leaning down, head next to her ear. Was he speaking? The woman kept inching away from him and the man kept moving right with her. She focused on the woman's face and knew immediately that something was wrong with this picture. She stepped back to the curb. The bus was still a way off. She walked back to the shelter, but this time she stepped into it. The woman looked at her with an almost pleading look. She could hear the man now. He was talking. As she listened to him, she felt revulsion and fear. He was telling that poor woman he would like to cut her up, rape her, hurt her over and over. What should she do? Leave the shelter? Ignore the situation?
As she listened to him, he followed the poor woman around the shelter and she felt anger. How dare he! She stepped forward and insinuated herself between the woman and the man. She turned toward the man. He stopped in surprise and glared at her. He stepped left, so did she. He stepped right, so did she. He reached out and grabbed her arms, picked her up from the ground and moved her to the side. For a moment she was frozen with shock. She quickly stepped back in front of him. She felt a flash of fear as his face turned red and anger filled his eyes. She couldn't see the woman behind her.
The bus screeched to a halt at the curb. The woman bolted for the steps. She turned and bolted right after her. The man did not follow. The driver closed the bus doors and the bus pulled away from the curb. At the top of the steps, the woman fumbled through her purse for change. She had her bus card in her pocket and waited for the woman to pay the driver. The woman fed the change into the meter machine, then turned and looked full at her for a brief moment. The woman smiled at her. They smiled at each other. Then it was her turn to pay. (This story is a Making Shapely Fiction technique called "A Day in the Life". In this technique the shape of fiction is created by the unit of time involved. It could be a day, weekend, an hour.)
She walked to the side of the shelter, using it as a windbreak. She couldn't help noticing how close the man stood to the woman and how she was turned away from him. He was leaning down, head next to her ear. Was he speaking? The woman kept inching away from him and the man kept moving right with her. She focused on the woman's face and knew immediately that something was wrong with this picture. She stepped back to the curb. The bus was still a way off. She walked back to the shelter, but this time she stepped into it. The woman looked at her with an almost pleading look. She could hear the man now. He was talking. As she listened to him, she felt revulsion and fear. He was telling that poor woman he would like to cut her up, rape her, hurt her over and over. What should she do? Leave the shelter? Ignore the situation?
As she listened to him, he followed the poor woman around the shelter and she felt anger. How dare he! She stepped forward and insinuated herself between the woman and the man. She turned toward the man. He stopped in surprise and glared at her. He stepped left, so did she. He stepped right, so did she. He reached out and grabbed her arms, picked her up from the ground and moved her to the side. For a moment she was frozen with shock. She quickly stepped back in front of him. She felt a flash of fear as his face turned red and anger filled his eyes. She couldn't see the woman behind her.
The bus screeched to a halt at the curb. The woman bolted for the steps. She turned and bolted right after her. The man did not follow. The driver closed the bus doors and the bus pulled away from the curb. At the top of the steps, the woman fumbled through her purse for change. She had her bus card in her pocket and waited for the woman to pay the driver. The woman fed the change into the meter machine, then turned and looked full at her for a brief moment. The woman smiled at her. They smiled at each other. Then it was her turn to pay. (This story is a Making Shapely Fiction technique called "A Day in the Life". In this technique the shape of fiction is created by the unit of time involved. It could be a day, weekend, an hour.)
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