El Cinco de Mayo, Y2K; 13 Tarantulas and 13 Zopilotes; Two Acts of Bravery, an Act of Stupidity

 

 

Dear Jokey... A Sketch of Friday in No Particular Order. It's late. Lilac and laughter drift through the open dormer windows; a neighbor's Spring gathering. Talk of uncle Archie. Zeke snores in the adjacent bedroom, the ceiling fan a cycling headache. Semi trucks pass, growling downshifts as they come up the gentle flanks of Santa Clara Peak. Bats flit the streetlight in dull bronze flashes. Today I rode to Las Vegas on my motorcycle with Joseph. I'm not sure who convinced who, but I found myself double on the Interstate with the sensation of a cold beer on the small of my back. I pulled it together, and turned into the rest stop to confront Joe and the un-numbered cans of malt liquor stashed in his denim coat. I prayed for a lot of things, and we continued. I dropped him in a civil fashion in front of the public library. He took his translucent bag of empties up the steps of the Carnegie (a copy of Monticello) like a docent returning her weekly read. He turned, pointed to the bag of cans, and assured me that it wasn't the ride, hijito. My first passenger on this bike... I can't imagine what we looked like. Two odd brujos on a broom by Honda to a few, I hope. More likely something exotic, and breathtakingly--infuriatingly--stupid. After the young blonde married couple of the Missoula Children's Theater had coached them for three days, 56 of the Village's students performed "The Wiz of the West." The kindergarten children were tarantulas with goat-tees and black bowler hats. If they were a little older, they were lugubrious vultures with giddy faces. Afterwards, we socialized in the school lobby where I noted how handsome Joseph was in 1968; glad that this photo collage of strange and familiar faces was preserved in this place. The same place that Zeke helped decorate for the prom. I've attached a few pictures of the new gym in "Heaven In Your Eyes" motif, along with some landscape themes I've been recording. Sunday Evening ...and a good experience to survive and recount when I doubt that we walk on God's palm. With much Love, Your 'manito

 

 

P.S. The second act of bravery. Those damn Chihuahuas Tim has are out in the street with his twins. You have to slow down when you go by his place. Johnny jammed the brakes and I sputtered "little shit!" when the scrawny dark one walked in front of the truck. We were both quiet and impressed when a second later Tim's twins pedalled into our path.