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.

Snapshots: It Started In Memphis

the setting: memphis, tennessee. it's august, hot, and humid.

scene 1: the living room of a low-income house. a single mother with her twin children--a boy and a girl--around 10-years old. a beloved shaggy dog is lying on a bedraggled shaggy rug. there is a large box fan in the open window, creating a breeze of dubious benefit.

the girl looked up from a book she was reading. "mom, can we go somewhere different for our summer vacation next year?"

"where do you have in mind, sweety? paris? london?"

"how about the moon?" her brother chimed in good-naturedly. "or mars!"

the girl stuck her tongue out at her twin. "san francisco! look how pretty it is!"

she held up her book, showing them a double-page photo of the Golden Gate Bridge.

her mother took the book. "it's lovely, annie. but san francisco is on the other side of the country, you know."

"we can have an adventure!" the twin brother jumped up to grab another book, opening it up to a map of the united states. "look, we can go through texas and see cowboys!"

"and oil wells!" annie added.

their mother laughed. "you and your bridges and oil wells and skyscrapers! you really are going to be the greatest female engineer ever, aren't you?"

"can we take yorick with us, too?" the boy said as he rubbed the shaggy dog's belly, making him open his eyes and yawn with a light whimper.

"you woke him up! poor yorick. poor yorick!" annie laughed and reached over to pat the dog as she chanted the dog's namesake.

a car horn honked outside.

"there's maryanne and alex," their mother said. "grab your bag, donnie, and give me a hug."

the boy ran into the bedroom and came back with a small bag. "love you, mom," he said as he hurriedly hugged his mother. "bye, annie! bye, yorick!"

"bye, donnie!"

their mother followed donnie to the front door, waving at their friend maryanne michaelson and her son, alex, and watched as they drove donnie over to their house for a sleepover.


scene 2: the michaelson house, later that evening.


"honey, can you check on the boys and make sure they're okay?"

maryanne's husband george nodded and went out the back door. "boys, you doing okay out there?"

there was laughter from inside a small tent set up in the yard, flashlights shimmering dimly from inside. "we're good, dad!"

"okay, well keep the noise down a little bit, all right?"

"okay, dad!"

"they're fine," he told his wife as he came back inside. "stop worrying."

there was a knock at the door.

"who could that be?" maryanne asked her husband, who shrugged.

she looked out the front window next to the door. "it's the police!"


scene 3: memphis police department, the following day. donnie and his aunt are meeting with a police officer and a u.s. marshall.

"look, son," the police officer looked across his desk from donnie. "i know you're scared. a terrible, terrible thing has happened. we're trying to make sure that more terrible things don't happen."

"but what if annie comes back? what if she's looking for me? i have to be there for her!"

the other man--the one wearing a suit--pulled his chair over. "donnie, listen to me. the man who killed your mother kidnapped your sister. he would have taken you, too, if you had been there. he will continue to look for you."

donnie looked up at the woman next to him. "aunt brenda, i don't want to go!"

she pulled him close. "we have to, baby. we're all each other has now. both of our sisters have been taken away from us. we have to take care of each other." she looked at the man in the suit. "the marshall says he can move us anywhere in the country we want to go. we can have new names and start a whole new life. it will be an adventure. okay, donnie?"

he looked at the marshall. "my name won't be donnie craig anymore?"

the marshall shook his head. "no, son. you have to change it. how about danny? danny blake."

the boy shrugged.

"and your name will be lucy, ma'am. is that okay?"

brenda nodded, wiping her eyes. "lucy. yes, that's a fine name. isn't that a fine name, don--danny?"

"where would you like to live, danny?" the marhsall asked him.

"i don't know."

"how about florida? some place near the beach."

he raised his head. "can we go to san francisco?"

"san francisco? why there, son?"

"i...i want to see the Golden Gate Bridge." he turned to his aunt. "can we go there, aunt lucy? please?"

she looked at the marshall who nodded. "yes, danny. we can go to san francisco. just the two of us. it will be an adventure." she hugged him again.

"actually, it will be the three of you," the marshall said as he signaled one of his men. the door opened, and a shaggy dog was led into the room.

"yorick!"