Snapshots: A Day In The Park

the setting: san francisco, california.  it's august and unusually bright and warm.

scene 1: golden gate park.  it's morning and there are several rows of people performing tai chi.  most of them are adult asians though there are also a couple of aging hippies and a 16-year old boy.

relax. breathe.  let your arms float.

as he took his initial stance, he heard the words in his mind, but it wasn't his voice or that of his tai chi master that he heard.

head up.  part the wild horse's mane to the left.  exhale.

his sister's voice had set the tone.  he felt the coarse hair of the mane in his fingers, his sister's warm breath against his ear.  as he moved into the next form, he transcended his normal plane of awareness to a place that was both familiar and unkown to him.  his body continued to flow from one form to the next.

grasping the swallow's tail.  single whip.  waving hands like clouds.

his consciousness, though, was elsewhere.  it wasn't san francisco.  it wasn't a place at all.  his senses were void.   he saw nothing, he smelled nothing, he felt nothing.  his sister's voice was gone.  but she was there.  there was no evidence of her, but she was there.  he knew it.  twins had that connection.  she was part of his world, and she was still with him. 


scene 2:  golden gate park.  it's afternoon and an old man is playing chess against a 16-year old boy.

the boy opened by pushing queen's pawn forward two spaces.  "rabbi ori, i was performing tai chi in the park this morning and...and i think i may have reached enlightenment."

the old rabbi raised a bushy grey eyebrow at his opponent, then moved his knight out into the field of play.

"did you, now?  and what makes you think that, my young friend?

the boy paused.  he was looking at the board, but his mind was on his experience that morning.  when he had ended his forms, he was back in the normal, waking world.  the presence of his twin sister had lingered, though.  he found himself looking around to see if she was watching him.  she wasn't there, though.  nobody was. 

he slid another pawn forward and said, "i was doing my forms, but it felt like my body was doing the movements on its own while my mind was...somewhere else.  i don't know where.  it was empty.  nothingness, really, except for the feeling that my...that somebody i haven't see in a long time was there, and she was safe.  i've never felt anything like that before.  it was real, though.  i swear it."

the rabbi nodded noncommittally, and pushed one of his pawns out into the fray, opening up a bishop and his queen.  "in the eastern philosophies, reaching a state of enlightenment brings an end to suffering and an understanding of the complexities of the universe, no?"

the boy shrugged, and captured a pawn.  "something like that, yeah." 

the moves on the board seem to match the flow of the conversation: probing, unsure, deflecting, penetrating.

"so what mysteries did your enlightened mind unlock?"

"i don't know.  i mean, i didn't solve any mysteries.  i just...i just felt that this person was alive and safe, even though i have no real way of knowing."

"we've played many a game of chess, my young friend, and i've watched you here in the park.  may i make an observation?  yes?"

the boy nodded.

"you are lost.  you exist in this world, but you are not part of it.  the eastern philosophies, you are drawn to them because they would have you to turn away from the world and look inside yourself for answers.  for them, the world is nothing but pain and suffering.  it is something to ascend from, yes?"

another nod.

"for us jews, that is unthinkable.  we live in our world.  family and tradition, they are where we look for answers.  the torah and talmud give us mitzvot--the commandments of god--to help us find our way in the world and make it a better place.  we don't want to ascend from this world; we want to make this a better world, you see?"

another nod, but accompanied by a frown.  "so, i didn't reach enlightenment?"

the old rabbi tilted his head to the side in a half-shrug.  "meh, who knows?  but we jews, we have a word called kavannah.  do you know this word?  no?  well, it is a kind of enlightenment.  it means directing one's heart toward heaven.  oftentimes, we jews just go through the motions with our laws and prayers and rituals, doing them because we're supposed to, because we always have.  sometimes, though, the rituals awaken sudden clarity inside of us and click!  we understand.  in that very moment, it all comes together.  we feel the connection that we all have to god, and to each other, and to this world.  that is kavannah.  it's very zen, no?"

the boy looked impressed.  "that's cool."

the old rabbi smiled.  "i'm glad you think so, my young friend.  now, maybe you experienced kavannah; maybe you did not.  who knows?  but my advice is to remember that connection you felt, the connection to that other person whom you loved, your connection to this world."

the boy nodded.  "is that all, rabbi?"

"no, my young friend.  you must also remember not to expose your king.  checkmate."

scene 3:  golden gate park.  it's evening and a woman is sitting on a plaid blanket, eating a picnic dinner with an old shaggy dog and a 16-year old boy.

"danny, these sandwiches are delicious.  where did you get them?"

"a jewish deli that rabbi ori told me about," the boy told her as he handed her a bottle of coke.  "he said it's the best pastrami he's ever had."

"it's certainly the best i've ever had," the woman said.  "i'm glad you thought to bring a bowl of yorick's regular food for him, though.  i don't think the pastrami would be good for him and, besides, i don't want to share."

the boy said nothing, but reached over and rubbed the old dog's head affectionately.  his aunt watched him, her eyes sad.

"you're remembering them, aren't you?"

he nodded.  "it was six years ago today, you know."

"i know."

"annie's still alive."

"what?!"  she wasn't prepared to hear that.  "how do you know?"

"i don't know.  i mean, i know it, but i don't know how i know it.  i mean--"  he took her hand.  "aunt lucy, you've heard how twins have a special connection?  they can speak their own language, finish each others thoughts?"

she smiled.  "yes.  your mother and i used to marvel at how you and annie used to talk gibberish to each other as toddlers.  we couldn't understand a word you'd say, but you understood each other perfectly."

"we always had our own language.  and we knew things about each other.  like, i knew if she was sick, and she knew if i was lying about something, or hiding something.  i knew if she had a bad dream, even when she was in the other room."

the woman looked closely at his face.  "and you think you felt something today?"

the boy started petting the dog again.  "yes.  no.  i mean, i realized something today.  that connection is still there.  it was always there.  i just never paid attention to it.  i guess...i guess it hurt too much.  but  today at tai chi, i found it again.  if the connection is still there, then she's still alive.  she's okay, aunt lucy.  i know it.  i know it."

the woman pulled him close.  "i hope so, honey.  i hope so."

the shaggy dog stood up and walked over to then and fell in between them, as if to join their embrace.  the woman and boy laughed and each extended a hand out to rub against the dog's black & white coat, prompting a happy tail-thumping against the plaid blanket.

Good Help Is Hard To Find

gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub and greeted his friend danny blake behind the bar.

"what's on the menu tonight, danny?"

"flank steak with bloody mary salad," danny replied as he poured a Guinness for his best customer.

"you make living worthwhile, you know that?"

"are we living?" danny asked as he handed cardigan his pint.  "i thought we were just written."

cardigan grimaced.  "haven't i told you not to bring that up?  it's bad for my blood pressure."

"but we don't have blood pressure."

"fine.  in that case, throw a fried egg on top of my steak.  it has no effect whatsoever on my font pressure."

cardigan walked back to join his friends and found marian talking to her laptop.

"carlotta, find me a travel package to new zealand this fall."

"you named your laptop carlotta?"  cardigan asked.

marian shook her head.  "no, it's a Computer-Assisted Research program, version 2.0.  you know how people interact with their cars' GPS systems?  you tell the GPS where you're trying to go and the GPS tells you how to get there?  well, CAR applies the same concept toward doing research on the internet.  you tell her what you're looking for and she tells you what she's found, so you don't have to run a bunch of queries in a search engine.  i call mine carlotta.  she's a real time saver.  and she's cute, too!"

marian turned her screen to face cardigan and he saw a bubble with expressive eyes and  mischievous lips.  the expression, however, was one of annoyance.  marian noticed, frowned, and said, "what's wrong, carlotta?"

the eyes drew in slightly and the lips began to speak.  "i'm engrossed in a novel and you come along and order me around without so much as a please.  wtf?!"

marian matched her program's face of annoyance.  "carlotta, would you please find an affordable 2-week vacation package to new zealand this fall for taylor and me?  if it's not too much trouble, that is."

carlotta's eyes looked upward to the left, then to the right, as if considering.  "sure thing, boss!"

marian sighed.  "people complained that version 1.0 didn't have any personality.  they may have over-corrected with 2.0."

"i heard that!"  marian winced as carlotta yelled at her.

"ducky, why can't we go to romania?"  taylor young, marian's boyfriend with vampire characteristics, wanted to know.  "you got to choose where we went on our last vacation, and i'd wager that romania is cheaper than new zealand."

taylor opened up his PDA and said, "carpathia, be a dear and find a nice 2-week vacation package for marian and me this fall in transylvania, preferably in a castle.  thanks!"

"you can count on me, count!" came the flirtatious reply from taylor's device.

"carpathia?  let me see that," marian took taylor's PDA and saw carlotta's eyes and lips, the latter sporting two fangs.

"i got the same program, but chose the avatar with fangs," taylor informed her.  "she's highly customizable."

"that drippy twilight-wannabe version of me doesn't know a search engine from a fire engine," carlotta huffed from marian's laptop.  "i found a fabulous package for you: air from san francisco to auckland, rental car, and a book of vouchers good for 3-star hotels all over the country for two people for a grand total of $3500.  beat that, vampirella!"

"very amusing," carpathia retorted.  "i've got roundtrip air to bucharest, rail travel to transylvania, luxury accommodations in a haunted castle with breakfast included for $3200!"

"hmph.  how do you define luxury in transylvania?  the rats wear tuxedos?"

"stop it, you two!" marian scolded the programs.  "taylor and i will have to discuss this."

danny came over to drop off cardigan's meal.  "i've never not regretted not having a computer as much in my life," he muttered.

gavin had to roll that triple negative over in his mind a few times before comprehending danny's meaning.  "yeah, i know what you mean.  though i have to admit, this is rather entertaining."

"is there a male version of carlotta?" sierra wondered.  "it might be fun having a carlos at my beck and call."

marian shook her head.  "the male version has bugs."

"more like fleas," carlotta added with a chuckle.

carpathia giggled.  "and the disembodied mustache is creepy."

"even creepier than fangs," carlotta noted.

"hey, my fangs are sexy!"

"well, you have a point there.  or two.  ha!"

"carlotta, don't you have a book to read?" marian sounded exasperated.  "and carpathia, shouldn't you be in a coffin or something?  i'm sure it's daylight in transylvania."

"hmph."

"hmph."

"when does version 3.0 come out?" sierra inquired.

"i don't know.  i'm a little scurred," marian admitted.

Remember when? Me, neither.

gavin cardigan hung his fedora on a peg as he walked into Poor Yorick's Pub and greeted his friend behind the bar with, "what's on the menu tonight, danny boy?  i'm a mighty hungry man."

"bangers & mash," danny blake replied as he poured a Bass. 

"i like the way you think," cardigan grinned.  "i'll take extra banger."

"you got it, hoss," danny handed him his pint.  "now you'd better get back there.  they might need your expertise."

cardigan frowned but walked back to join his friends at their regular table.  when he got there, he a stranger sitting among the regular crew.  he was a small, neat elderly man wearing a salvation army suit and bow tie, and he had the others enraptured.

"...told him, 'if i knew that, i wouldn't be checking myself into a loony bin!"

the others laughed and then sierra charles looked up.  "cardigan, meet our new friend."

the old man stood up and extended his hand.  "dash chandler at your service, young man."

"gavin cardigan at yours, sir."

as they took their seats, marian elfman explained their new friend's situation.  "mr. chandler is an amnesiac, gavin.  he woke up in san francisco several years ago and couldn't remember who he was, how he got here, or any details about his life."

"really?" cardigan was professionally interested.  "i thought that kind of thing only happened in fiction.  oh, that's right, we are--"

"gavin! don't confuse matters!" Mysterious Lurker scolded him, her red hair turner two shades darker in the process.

danny delivered cardigan's bangers & mash to the table.  "i'm with The Lurker on that one."

"just that one?"

danny winked, The Lurker blushed, marian grinned, and cardigan high-fived sierra.  taylor looked around and said, "what?"

dash looked at the Pub's resident vampire and said, "i'm insane and new here, but even i picked up on that."

"you're not insane, mr. chandler," sierra reached over and squeezed his hand.  "you're just charmingly forgetful."

"so you woke up one morning and didn't remember anything?"  cardigan promoted the old man.

"that's not entirely accurate," chandler told him.  "i remembered all the books i had ever read and every movie i had ever seen.  what i couldn't remember was anything about me or my life.  i didn't know my name, where i lived, where i had ever been, if i ever had a family, if i ever had a job."

"that must have been frightening.  what did you do?"

chandler shrugged.  "i went to the police.  i knew to do that much.  they checked missing persons reports, they took my fingerprints, and they checked me into a hospital.  i didn't want to be a 'john doe' so i invented the name 'dash chandler.'"

"taken from dashiell hammett and raymond chandler, right?"

chandler smiled.  "they told me you were a private investigator.  yes, hammett and chandler were my two favorite authors, and bogart was my favorite actor.  the hospital kept me for several days and ran all kinds of tests, but couldn't find any neurological damage.  so, they checked me into a state mental hospital to look for a psychological reason for my amnesia."

"how long were you there?"  cardigan asked.

"three years.  it was very interesting, and the staff seemed quite professional.  unfortunately, none of their techniques were able to uncover anything.  to this day, i know nothing more than i did they day i went to the police, other than i have never been arrested or served in the armed forces.  and i was either utterly alone or completely loathsome as nobody ever reported me missing," he noted sadly.

"i'm sure that's not true," marian told him.  "you've been a perfect gentleman with us."

"thank you, my dear," chandler gave her a warm smile.  "whatever the reason, the police had no leads on my identity.  and the hospital had no leads on my amnesia, but determined that i was not a risk to myself or to others, and released me."

"so what have you been doing?  where have you been staying?"  marian sounded concerned.

"the fog city mission," he replied.  "just a couple of blocks from here.  the beds are comfortable, the showers are hot, and the soup is filling.  the basic amenities are satisfactory.  i spend a lot of time in the library, reading.  and sometimes i go down to the wharf and perform for pocket change."

"what kind of performances?"  The Lurker wanted to know.

"i re-enact movie scenes.  although i don't know how to be myself, i'm pretty good at being other people."

"will you do one for us?"

he affected a menacing yet digusted look.  "you know, i have one simple request. and that is to have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads! now evidently my cycloptic colleague informs me that that cannot be done. ah, would you remind me what i pay you people for, honestly? throw me a bone here!"

the group applauded.  "that was an amazing mr. evil!" sierra complimented him.

"it's dr. evil.  i didn't spend 6 years in evil medical school to be called mister, thank you very much." 

it was not mr. chandler alone who said this, but every male at the table, who then followed it up with knuckle bumps and shouts of yeah, baby, which was followed by every female at the table rolling her eyes and muttering boys.

cardigan drummed his finertips on the table.  "you know, i had an idea some time back to get an apprentice, but i never followed up on it.  would you be interested in some part-time work?  i could always use a gifted actor to get information for me."

"that's a great idea, cardigan!" sierra punched him the shoulder, and marian nodded in agreement while muttering that she should have thought of it.

the old man's eyes lit up.  "to play private investigator in sam spade's own city...i don't know what to say.  of course i'll do it.  i'd be honored, sir!"

"good!  i'll get you a cell phone and camera equipment.  Lurker, can you hook him up with a fedora?  you can't be a private detective in san francisco without a fedora."

"what do i look like, a millener?!  oh, wait, that's right," The Lurker's indignation changed quickly over to cooperation as she remembered burkie's unpublished chapter.  "no problem."

"by the way," chandler leaned forward and lowered his voice.  "those ladies in the corner over there.  any of them available?"

cardigan glanced over at the witches, who quickly turned their collective attention back to their own table, cackling softly.

"available?  maybe.  advisable?  no."

Pumpkin Cake with Cream Cheese Swirl

i love pumpkin, any time of year.  i wanted something pumpkin-y today and looked around the web and found this.  it's really good.  lighter than a pumpkin bread, with a thin layer of cream cheese topping, it's kinda like a sheet cake version of a pumpkin roll.  recommended!

Snapshots: Faith Off

"father leo, do you believe in god?"

the portly priest gave his volunteer help a small smile.  "it's a job requirement, i'm afraid.  why do you ask, lily?"

the 16-year old girl didn't answer.  she ran her feather duster around the inside pane of the church's stained glass window depicting jesus walking on water before asking another question.  "can you serve the church without believing in god?"

a fair question, he thought, and he might have answered no in his more zealous novitiate days.  now in his third decade as a parish priest, his own faith was as strong as ever but he was more accommodating about how faith manifests itself.  lily herself was an interesting case study in faith.  she truly loved the church, but seemed indifferent to The Church.  she always volunteered to help pull weeds, dust, paint, file, or anything else that needed to be done.  when not helping, she would often spend time around the parish reading books, doing homework, drawing, or simply talking to him.  he didn't mind; he quite enjoyed her company.  indeed, she had become a good friend, as odd as that may seem and as...unseemly...as that may be for a catholic priest.

however, as much time as she spent at church, she only went through the motions during mass, and on those rare occasions when she went to confession, she only confessed that it had been a long time since her last confession.  there were many adjectives one could apply to lily dupree: intelligent, serious, beautiful, industrious, curious, generous.  however, the one that father leo always thought of first was guarded.  except for sophie and mack, she never let anybody too close, not even him.  not even god, he suspected.

"you're serving the church now, lily.  do you believe in god?"

"i don't know, father.  sometimes, i'm not even sure i want to believe."

father leo felt he had just witnessed a miracle--lily dupree answered a direct question.  her answer, as he would expect, was honest though it made him sad to hear a 16-year old say this.  "why do you spend so much time here, lily?  are you trying to find god?"

"no.  you say that god exists everywhere.  if that's true, i shouldn't have to try to find him, either at church or anywhere else."

he suppressed a grimace.  he always had to be at the top of his game with her.

"most 16-year olds are with their friends on saturday nights or out on a date, not sweeping and dusting a moldy old church with their fat parish priest."

"you're as much my friend as anyone at school, and i have no interest in hanging out at the mall.  as for boys," she shook her head.  "they're so dull."

father leo laughed.  "you have a point, there."

"and it's not a moldy old church!" she scolded him.  "it's beautiful, and fascinating.  houses and stores are built as rectangles, to maximize functional space within, with external visual aspects such as gables or columns added as an afterthought.  here," she swung her arm around, "it's not about functional space.  it's about inspiration.  look how high the ceiling is!  and the stories told in the stained glass windows!  it's like being inside of a painting."

the priest smiled at her outburst of passion.  "so you come here for inspiration!  how are you inspired?  do you want to be an architect?"

she didn't answer right away.  she placed a finger on the window and began tracing a small crack in the stained glass.  "i used to want to build things.  i wanted to be an architect or engineer and design big things like skyscrapers or bridges.  now...i'm more interested in preserving than creating.  i want to study restoration architecture, especially church restoration."  she tilted her head at the window.  "and i'd like to learn how to make and repair stained glass windows, too.  do you think i could work for the church as a restoration architect?"

father leo raised an eyebrow.  lily was, uncharacteristically, revealing a lot about herself, though each answer generated even more questions.  he hoped his luck (not that he believed in luck) would hold out and she'd continue to answer.  "i think that is a fascinating and worthy field of study, lily, and there is certainly a demand. after all, the church has been building churches and missions and monasteries and convents for centuries.  but, why is it important to you, especially if you don't believe in god, or even want to believe in god?"

she sat in a pew, frowning at the frayed edge of the thin cushion there.  "a church represents more than spirituality, father.  it also represents sanctuary.  it's a place where you're always welcome and safe, no matter who you are, what you do, or what you believe.  it's always here for you.  yes, there is inspiration here, but there's also comfort, peace, and salvation.  i want to preserve that."

he smiled at her choice of words.  "and you believe you can do that, do you?"

"yes." 

"i believe you can, too.  now, let's go back to something you said said, earlier.  god exists everywhere.  that means he exists in you, too, lily.  and if you believe in yourself, you believe in god."

she didn't buy it.  "but you're the one who believes god exists inside me, so that only means that you believe in god."

he shrugged.  "perhaps you're right; you're smarter than i am.  let's put it another way.  you believe in yourself, but you also believe that this simple building--or the concepts that this simple building represent--can inspire peace, salvation, and even spirituality.  you have faith, lily.  belief in god is a subset of that.  your desire to serve a church built on faith is not inappropriate."

she gave him a mischievous grin.  "does that mean i can be a priest?"

"i'm not getting into that with you again, young lady.  now, back to work!"

Snapshots: Lurking Out My Back Door

"i wonder what's going on here?"  the Mysterious Lurker wondered as she began lurking in a new story.


she wiped the sweat from her brow as she walked along a country road on an early june mississippi day, then stopped to watch a teenage girl with a ponytail chopping cotton.  in an adjacent field, a shirtless young man with sun-bronzed skin was bailing hay. 


the Lurker hastened for the shade under a live oak tree near a farmhouse.  after a few minutes, a woman opened up the back door and called her laboring children in for dinner.  the Lurker watched as they rushed into the house, not stopping to wipe their dirty feet. 


"that's not right," the Lurker murmured to herself as she made an adjustment to the dialogue.  when she walked in herself, she found them passing black-eyed peas and biscuits around the dinner table.  she inhaled appreciatively, only half listening to the conversation until she realized they were talking about a suicide.


"nice use of local color," she nodded approvingly as the backstory unfolded.   the brother's recollection of a prank that he and his friend had pulled on his sister made her frown, though.  "ice down the back of a shirt isn't very memorable," she thought.  "a frog!  now that would be memorable!"


she made a couple of other minor revisions, then listened with interest as the mother related a story about the daughter and the victim.   "holy shit!" her eyes went wide at the latest revelation.  "i can't believe they'd throw something like that off a bridge!"


as she listened to the finale, she slumped in her seat, emotionally drained.  "it's too much.  i just...it's too much."


she went back to the couple on the bridge. 


"i can't leave that in there," she decided.  "what if...what if they were spotted throwing 'something' off that bridge, but nobody knows what it was?"  she mused.  "yes, much better.  instead of being left emotionally devastated by the song, people will be left forever wondering about the mystery of what was thrown off the tallahatchie bridge!"


the Lurker gave a maniacal laugh, made the change, and danced away in search of another target.