More Than An Absent Mind

This recent generation has certainly made my calling more challenging in some ways, but in others so much simpler.  I cannot tell you what my real name is, but I have been known by many names over time.   I cannot decide which is my favorite, perhaps "Imp".  Imp is a simple yet pleasant sounding name.   Much better than Menehune, Leprechaun, Fairy or the dozens of other names that have been used for such as I.  I have heard the stories and seen the images some have created to explain us, they are just imagination.  By irrevocable law we must remain elusive and invisible.  The children must never see or hear us in order for the test to be successful.

The test is the reason. The purpose of the time here.  Most do not realize it, for all are still children.  Sometimes your little ones seem to have a better grasp on what they are to accomplish.  It is sad to watch as you mature, you become confused as to who you are and why you are here.  There are "others" here who are determined to distract and confuse.  You agreed to the test.   Many preparations were made.  It is not like the tests in your schools.  You are examined on your knowledge but also on your responses.  Your responses to adversity. That is where I come in, Adversity 101.  Knowledge is a different department.

There are many of us here.  We each have a specialty, although we are all bound by the same rules.  When we create an adversity we must document the response immediately and then continue to monitor the rippling effects that are caused.  The adversities that we create are simple to track the purpose is known but the ones that you children create are difficult because many times purpose is lacking and they are the result of influence from the "others" who are trying to create chaos that will lead to failure of the test.  Unfortunately they are a very large and difficult group, but necessary to the whole test.  I mean, how can you have a test if there are no wrong answers. We have very simple guidelines.  We are never to give an adversity that the children are not able to handle.  We must understand that some adversities are given to strengthen the children for the future.  Help is only given when it is asked for.  We do not give grades but there are rewards for making the correct response.

I work in the minor test department.  I guess it is somewhat like the pop quiz that you have in your schools.   I work on the small day to day tests.  You children do not even realize that these small events are tests. For instance, I might hide the right shoe or left sock.  It may seem like that is not much of a test, but there are many variables that can make it a real test such as, stress levels, degree of happiness, and time restraints.  These can all have very serious effects on the response given.  I have witnessed little ones suffer fear and serious damage to their self esteem when their caretaker's response is rage over a lost shoe.  I have even witnessed some little ones being physically hurt!  A most distressing part of my calling!

There are documented many good responses too.  The "others" are not as successful as many in the world would have you believe.  Just today, a young mother was searching for an important document she needed that would save her struggling family a lot of money. She was frantically searching her home for the "missing" document.  I do not limit my tests to only shoes and socks.  I cannot say where it was, trade secrets and all, but her response was a joy to observe!  In tears, she dropped to her knees and with all sincerity asked Father for help.  At times like this there is a special light  that we can actually see.  It is glorious to behold!   Her need was so great that Father gave special permission for immediate help.  As she knelt there, with head bowed, I silently put the needed document next to her hand, sticking out of the sofa cushion.  I can be very stealthy when it is needed.   Imagine her response when she opened her eyes and saw the document right there!  She again "gave light" that brought joy to all our hearts and actually warmed the world, as she immediately acknowledged Father's help and gave thanks to Him.

Obviously her car keys will have to be returned before tomorrow!

The Loving Husband

He had it all.  He was a blue blood and his breeding was impeccable.  The estate was magnificent and his wants and needs were pleasantly fulfilled.  He was a bit absent minded and a good sort of fellow.  He tended to putter and never really excelled at any one thing. Everyone adored Lord Richard.  He was kind and charitable to everyone.  His household staff held him in high esteem and looked after him as they would an adored child.  Of course in everyone's life something has to happen to challenge their perfect world and for Lord Richard it was when he learned that his estate was becoming financially burdened and his annuity was showing a shortfall, something had to be done.  He could not sell his land because it was entailed and he was  already living a very simple, yet noble lifestyle.  So he did what any blue blooded Englishman would do, he decided to take a wife that could solve his dilemma.

He immediately embarked on a visit to the "delinquent daughter" of Great Britain and ventured into the high society of the United States.  Socialites were clamoring to meet the handsome English Lord, how they loved his accent and prudish ways.  He was the talk of the town and everyone felt privileged to entertain him.  Parties were held nightly in his honor and everyone who was anyone were vying to outdo the other.  Lord Richard by nature was an introvert and parties exhausted him, he was rather stunned at the crassness of the Americans and found their accents a bit grating on the nerves.  However, one must do what one must do for blood and country and all.

 When she entered the room all the men stopped and stared and all the women glared with hatred and envy.  She floated across the room as though her feet were not touching the floor.  Her perfume was intoxicating,  her green eyes sparkled as she smiled with the most perfect teeth Lord Richard had ever seen.  She was bathed in silk and diamonds as she reached out her hand to introduce herself, "Charrmed to meet ya, I'm shore" said she.  It was the most disturbing sound he had ever heard!  How can such an enchanting creature have a voice so hellish?

Her name was Brenda Schwartz-Miller-DeLano.  As her title implied, her "bloodline" was one of poor, rich, and richer.  Brenda was known to her friends as "Bunny", someone once explained with a wink, that rabbits have sex until they pass out.  She was born  a poor American Jew from the lower east side of New York.  She decided she wanted the typical Jewish-American Princess dream on the day she started working at Tiffany's of New York. Everyday she watched the rich and famous come and go.  She secretly coveted the merchandise and whenever she could she offered to model any item some wealthy man was considering for his wife or lover.   She dreamed of decking herself out in diamonds and dancing the night away at one of their fancy parties on the arm of some wealthy man.

 Her dream began on a cold spring day when Ben Miller came in to buy his daughter a graduation gift.  He was short and bald and had bad breath. When he laid eyes on Brenda his breath was thankfully taken away.  He immediately imagined the perfect plan.  He would take this lovely girl to his daughter's graduation party and completely enrage and humiliate his recently ex-wife.  He was not shy and came right out with his proposal.  Of course he had to seal the deal with the first of many little trinkets to make Brenda sparkle.  Ben was not disappointed when his wife turned every shade of green and blue upon their arrival.  Ben was so pleased that he quickly sealed the deal with a quickie wedding in Las Vegas.  He was so excited he forgot to sign the pre-nup and when Bunny was done he didn't pass out, he died with a smile on his face.

Her dream continued with Mr. DeLano.  He was a man of many talents.  He prided himself on having a piece of many pies.  He started out a small time mobster but soon realized, as many of his friends were ending up in the pen, that he wanted to go legit.  So politics became his new passion.  He did well, and soon he was rubbing shoulders with all the big wigs.  With his hands in many pockets he was considering a run for the Senate.
Brenda was his biggest supporter and she was always there at the parties and rally's waving her flag.   When the soon to be Senator was feeling a little lonely after his wife checked into Betty Ford she was there to give him a little comfort.  They didn't notice the reporter hiding in the lobby.  He decided to make an honest woman of her and they married as fast as the divorce was final.   There were attempts to hush it all up, but unlike Donald Trump, he did not have a great hairdo or obnoxious TV show and they were unsuccessful.  His political career waning, he looked up a few old friends and business was soon booming again, unfortunately, so was his car.  The poor widow was duly compensated for her loss by his life insurance and some "hidden"assets.  Brenda needed to start anew.  Somewhere her "assets" could remain hidden from certain friends and one special "Uncle" by the name of Sam.

And so, two people, from very different places, with needs that the other could fulfill, met on a hot summer night.   Lord Richard was a practical man and he knew in time he could grow to love the sound of her voice and if not, perhaps she would run out of things to say.  He was not so sure about her calling him "Dickie"and decided that once they were settled he would have a little chat with her about it.

Lady Brenda, that was a nice bonus to the whole set up.  Yes, she saw the whole thing as just an arrangement.  Lord Richard was a handsome man, and for that she was relieved.  He was boring as the day was long and seemed simple minded and easy to please.  She was sure she could keep him happy and find plenty to keep herself occupied.  He told her to plan the nuptials.  She was determined to give Charles and Diana a run for their money.  It was to be a lavash affair!  All of her American friends and rivals were thrilled, mostly to see her far removed from the competition.  In all the preparations, Richard's Solicitors took care of the legal needs of the union.  To be a Lady required patents and papers and there was talk of entailments, insurance, duties, family jewels, household staff!  Her head was spinning!

The wedding was all she had hoped for.  Lord and Lady Mountbaum left to honeymoon on a grand tour of Europe.  They stayed at the best hotels and dined with royalty and presidents, for Lady Brenda the time flew by but to Lord Richard his greatest relief was when they finally arrived at the estate.  The household staff were all expectantly lined up to greet the new Lady of the Manor.  Each gave a small curtsey or bow as they were introduced, Lady Brenda smiled sweetly and eyed each, wondering why there were so many!  When she entered the grand entrance hall she was suddenly made aware that she just might be out of her element, so to speak.

It went about as well as the time Mrs. Obama tried to hug the Queen.  Lady Brenda was quickly getting tired of being mistress of the manor.  She just wanted to be plain old Bunny and have some laughs.    Her one joy was to take her red corvette, the only thing she insisted on bringing with her, for a drive down to the village to cut loose with some locals at the pub.  She did love the English countryside and learned quickly to drive the narrow winding roads as fast as she could.  Everyone knew she was coming when they heard the squealing tires and the bass beat shaking all the windows and scaring children and farm animals.  Her one little challenge was to remember what side of the road to drive on.  Many a local farmer or milk man told stories of crazy Lady Brenda in her American hot rod.

So life just carried on.  Lord Richard had what he needed and that was his estate secure and running well.  He went back to his simple puttering and just smiled quietly as his wife took her daily trips to who knew where.  He did not seem to really care that she was not discreet and every one was to polite to say anything to him.  He did enjoy the peace and quiet when she was not about.  Nobody of any consequence paid her any attention.  There were plenty of men out to have a good time and some who hoped for more.   Lord Richard saw to it that Brenda had all that she could ever need.  Cash was considered rather common and crass so she was given accounts at all the shops.  Suddenly she realizing what an entailment was.  She was determined more than ever to do as she pleased and to hell with appearances.  Poor Lord Richard, that is what everyone thought.

One day Brenda cornered Lord Richard in the garages. He was puttering around with a few of his favorite old classic cars.  "Dickie dear, I cannot for the life of me find one mechanic that will fix my car!  I insist you take some time from these heaps you love so much and fix my car yourself!  I need the brakes done and the fluids all checked, oh you know what to do!  I am going up to take a nap.  I have some engagements to attend this evening and I won't be home until quite late!", she then turned in a  huff and was gone before he even got past the sound of her calling him that dreadful name!

It took him two hours to figure out how to remove the tires.  He puttered all day and well past supper and tea.  He was feeling rather proud of himself when he was finally done.  It was a beast of a machine!  He was just about to exit the garages when Brenda came flying by, grabbing the keys and saying "Thanks love, don't wait up!"  She nearly ran him down as she barreled down the drive and around the corner without slowing as she nearly ran the caretakers son down!

Lord Richard was sitting in the drawing room with a warm brandy and his favorite pipe when the constable was shown in.  He was told of her tragic accident.  She was on the wrong side of the road and her brakes seemed to have failed as she missed the turn but not the tree.  You know, the old oak at the bottom of the hill.  So sad.  Perhaps you could salvage the car sir.

Lord Richard hoped that the next time he wouldn't have any left over parts.

A Bad Country Western Song

If only they had taken some time and talked.  They could have been friends or maybe even lovers.  They actually had a lot in common.

He was not a big man.  The fact his father always reminded him of when he addressed him as the "runt" of the litter.  He had three "big" brothers.  They were as mean as they were big, he lived most of his life in fear.  His mother tried to run interference but then she ran off with that low life bartender when he was ten. All hell broke lose.  Life was one big fight for survival.  He still has nightmares, sometimes he wets the bed.  She left him behind!  Every day he wondered how she could do that.  He learned to hate real young.  It was inside like a putrid abscess waiting to burst.  School was not a place of comfort or escape.  It was just another version of the hell he lived at home.  The day he turned seventeen he packed a bag and hit the road. He never looked back.  He hitched his way to Texas.  He worked hard at hard work.  He wanted jobs that tested his strength and made him feel like a man.  He was a quiet man and tried to mind his own business.  He had a few dreams.  Not big ones.  He wanted a truck.  Yep, the typical cowboy, country kind of truck.  The bigger the better.  That was all he cared about.  That was all his broken and bruised heart would allow him to care about.

She was not a small girl.  Her father's greatest sorrow in life was that she was not a son.  He took every opportunity to let her know this fact.  When her mother died she was only six.  She never owned a dress or wore make-up or perfume.  She was too ashamed to tell her father when she started menstruating.  She cropped her hair and lived in levi's and flannel shirts.  She could cuss, spit, and fight as well as any man.  Her old man never noticed how hard she tried to please him.  He lived his life in a drunken stupor missing his wife and missing the fact he had a daughter who was the spitting image of her mother, in spite of all the attempts to be the son she was not.  Her greatest joy was the day she got the job.

This is a man's world.  Women are not welcome.  It does not matter that her old man worked as the foreman for 30 years.  He is gone and this is no place for girls.  They did everything to dissuade her from continuing on this insanity!  They ignored her.  They taunted her.  They sexually harassed her.  They even tried slapping her around.  She ignored them .  She started wearing perfume and a pink hard hat just to taunt them.  She laughed at their sexual advances.  She bloodied a few noses and even kicked the ass of one poor fool.

Yep, you guessed it.  He was again humiliated.  Now he was a target right along with her.  He could have joined sides with her but that putrid abscess was still growing and he hated her with all his heart and soul.   She saw his rage, at first it scared her a little, then she pitied him.  She pondered his plight and  made a bad decision.  She might fit in, become one of the boys, if she joined them in his torture. After all she had just one dream too.  She searched for his weaknesses.

Women have a knack for this.  She found his desire, his one desire.
Even though she tried with all her heart not be be a women, she was, and that was just something she couldn't deny.  Men and women fight in different ways.  Men are physical, they will punch you, then later have a beer with you and all is well.  Women will yell and pout, they will kiss and make up, then go home and plot how to get even and destroy you.

The talk in the small town was about this year's raffle.  Every year the company held a huge raffle, the proceeds to help the families of those killed on the job.  This year was a truck.  A cowboy, country kind of truck.  He already had a plan, he would take all his savings and buy as many tickets as he could.  In this small town his odds looked good.  He thought about that truck.  That was all he thought about.

She knew he was hooked.  She could see him daydreaming about that truck.  She taunted him that she would win it.  She claimed to "know" the man in charge and that he was gonna see that she won it because they were "close".   She told him tales of her nights spent with the person who chose the winner.  She assured him that she had the winning ticket already.

She agitated him. He hated her.  He hated the sound of her voice.  Her laughter about drove him over the edge.  He stopped daydreaming about the truck and now all he could think about was her suffering, her laughter being smothered and gone.  The putrid abscess growing was about to burst.  His hatred was full and had no place to go.

The night was dark, no moon.  The breeze smelled of salt and an impending storm.  He was glad to be alone.  All those numbers and none of them could give him his dream.   He felt dead, just another thing to torture and inflict pain.  The water was inviting.  He wondered what it would feel like to drown.  He knew no one would miss him.  He remembered the winning number and it kept burning through his brain like a hot brand.  He took some relief that no one had stepped up to claim the prize.  He hoped it was a lost ticket or perhaps the person would keep it a secret.  He didn't want to know who had stolen his dream.  He didn't want to hate anyone else.

He didn't hear her step out  of the shadows behind him.  She was in her pink hard hat and flowered shirt.  He smelled her perfume first.  When he turned around he could see she was holding a ticket and very slowly she was reading the numbers...she had the winning ticket.

He doesn't remember exactly what happened he just knew that something inside, something horrible and ugly just burst, and when it did it tore his tortured heart and mind into pieces.  He hit her hard and her pink hat flew across the deck and into the water.  She didn't have time to scream.  She sank so quickly he hardly realized she had been there.  He turned slowly to leave and something caught his attention.  There fluttering in the soft breeze was the winning ticket.  He slowly picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.

He didn't sleep.  He just sat and held that ticket and he wept.  His tears were not for her.  She was gone and he felt no sorrow.  He wept because somehow he knew that when he got into his new truck it would make all that was wrong with him ok.

He got dressed in his best clothes and he slowly ate breakfast.  He hummed a tune as he strolled over to the building to claim his prize.  The sun was warm and bright.  He handed the man in charge his ticket.   The man looked closely at the numbers.  A look of puzzlement crossed the man's face.  A shiny new set of keys were handed to the winner and he was directed to his dream.  It was the prettiest shade of pink you could ever imagine.

The Smell.

The smell. What is that smell?  It's everywhere.  The food, air, people!   At first, exotic and promising.  A spice most assuredly.  What is it hiding?   The first hint. The large rat under the table.  The thinness of the people, so many people.  It came slowly.   In waves.  Go outside!  Breathe! Fresh air?  That smell, it is everywhere!  Liquid.  Boiling liquid.  The heat.  Sweat.  Just across the yard.  Not far. The gray, closing in.  No one is helping.  I recall the body on the sidewalk. Christ's not here!   Keep moving!  The cool comfort of a locked door and porcelain!  The SMELL!

Biography of a Transient Spirit

My name was given to me by my father.  I often wondered how a mother could allow a father to name his daughter after someone who held nothing to live up to?  I cherished my middle name which was given in honor of my maternal grandmother who I always felt was near and acted as my guardian angel. My family name is still a mystery due to the thoughtless miscreants of Ellis Island who renamed my forefathers when they came for the "American Dream".  Actually all of my ancestry is shrouded in mystery as the "old" folks refuse to speak of the past.  I come from a fractured family, our relationships are strained and most memories are of living in an undeclared war zone.  I was sure as a child that I was adopted.  I still wonder.
I hated school.  I hated sitting at a desk doing mundane, boring, busy work.  My education was received from the volumes of books that I lost myself in.  My free time was spent outdoors, barefoot.  I loved art.
My teenage and young adult years were spent in the fog of rebellion and self destruction.  My saving grace was the birth of my first child....a son.  He changed my stars.  I met my soulmate and we have traveled the world and created a life of adventure.....actually we live a really good sitcom.  The jewels in our crowns are our children and grandchildren.  I would not go back to relive or change any part of my life because I believe our experiences help create who we are.   I am not anyone of great merit but I am content with who I am.  I just try to do my best.