EPIPHANIES

March 7, 2013

I’ve had many epiphanies in my lifetime – not because I’ve experienced a revelation that has caused my soul to be forever changed, but more like ah-ha moments that have come about because I’m mostly a naive dork.

Take for example when I was in sixth grade. My end of class duty for the day was to wipe off the chalkboards. I was having a difficult time erasing the chalk marks using the spongy little black board eraser. I told my teacher I couldn’t get all the marks off, so she told me to use a little elbow grease. I didn’t know what that was, so I asked her where I could find some. She told me to go look in the supply closet. Dutifully, I trudged into the closet to find a jar of elbow grease. My ah-ha moment came years later when I finally discovered what elbow grease meant. Then I realized what a jerk my teacher was for humiliating me.

As with most middle-school children, I loved to listen to music. I had my little blue turntable and played the same Neil Sedaka 45’s over and over again. I also had my favorite radio station that I listened to. Back in those days there were maybe 4 stations – pop, country western, elevator music, and gospel. My epiphany for these years was when I realized the singers and bands were not performing live down at the radio station for broadcast through our radios.

Then came the teenage years. I wised up a bit, but not much. I thought everyone was as naïve as I was – especially my mother. I don’t know how she knew what was going on in my life – but she did. Like the time she asked if I had had a little too much to drink the night before. Maybe it was because she heard my boyfriend carry my passed-out body down the hallway and dump me on the bed at 1:00 in the morning. Or maybe it was because I was throwing up the rest of the day, locked in the bathroom.

The last epiphany was more recent. I was out with a friend and she was telling me about the trip to Ireland she and her husband had taken several years ago. Jealousy swelled up in my gut, and I felt the whiny I-wish-I-could-go-to-Ireland-too blues. The ah-ha hit me like a truck. Why couldn’t I go to Ireland? Even though my husband won’t fly, and his idea of traveling is getting from point A to point B as quickly as possible, there is no reason why I can’t go to Ireland without him – so I did. And now I am on a quest to find traveling companions so I can cross off states and countries from my bucket list.

Have my epiphanies changed my soul? Possibly. Since I became a teacher, I am very cognizant of what I say to my students so they won’t be humiliated by any attempt at self-satisfying humor. I’ve saved some of my 45’s so I can sell them on EBay for big bucks. When I became a mother, I wasn’t naïve about my teenagers’ desires to drink. Like when my son came home at noon one day, chugged a whole quart of orange juice, and locked himself in the bathroom. Wait…I think I just had an epiphany…my son and I are more alike than I thought. And as an adult, I know I can “feel free to move around the country” as I please when I “wanna get away.”

The Fire Within Us

The family is gathered around the campfire. The stars are twinkling high above the trees and the moon has a faint yellow shadow surrounding it. The desert evening air is crisp, enough so that she keeps scooting her folding chair closer to the campfire. The night is silent except the sound of crackling flames. Miriam stares into the roaring fire. Ryan sure knows how to build a fire. He’s the perpetual Boy Scout; prepared, honest, and loyal. Jennifer and Janie are poking sticks into the flames, and pulling them out as soon as they catch on fire. Then they rub the end into the dirt to put the fire out.

“Get back, you’re going to fall into the campfire.”

Ryan stacks more logs onto the fire and the flames roar to life again, shooting yellow and gold spires into the air. Sparks fly as the breeze created by the flames twirls them around the fire.

Miriam is mesmerized by the flashing light of the flames. She remembers when Ryan and she first met in college. Their life together was like the blinking fire, hot and passionate. As they made love, they created more sparks that stirred their inner being with a desire for more, and the never-ending sparks kept the fire burning. They believed there was no limit to their forging love. Their plans for the future reached the stars, just like tonight’s fire.

The flames subside to a steady glow. Miriam once again thinks about when Jennifer and Janie were born. It was an exciting time to think that their fire of love created such beautiful twins. But Miriam was tired most of the time, and Ryan worked two jobs to support the family. Their lovemaking was steady, but it didn’t have the spark, the glow, the heat it once did. Pretty soon it became more infrequent as the girls started their activities of dance, soccer, softball, sleepovers, Halloween - there was always something going on.

“Can we make ‘smores?”

“Of course, the fire is down enough for some nice, hot coals. Go get the graham crackers and marshmallows.”

“I want chocolate too.”

“Okay, there’s a Hershey’s bar in the cooler.”

By the time the girls come back with their cooking supplies, the hot coals have taken on a different life. The embers glow, first red, then orange, then yellow. Always moving, but they don’t have enough intensity to burst into flames again. The fire is just a memory. Jennifer and Janie run the wire through the marshmallow and hold it close to the reddest part between the embers. The white fluff smokes, then the girls turn their wires so the entire orb is a toasty brown.

Miriam once again is staring at the dying fire. “What has happened to our marriage?” she ponders. Their fire has been extinguished and there is nothing left but a memory of hot cinders. Pretty soon there will be just ashes.

Her premonition comes true. The girls have eaten their ‘smores, the fire has stopped glowing, and Ryan dumps a bucket of water in the fire pit to completely extinguish the heat. Miriam shuffles off to her tent and sleeps alone.

The Lemon Tree

 Ray and Stacy fell in love.

Stacy was 18 years old and had lived on the family’s farm all her life. She couldn’t wait to escape the early mornings helping her mother cook breakfast for her dad and brothers, the all day harvesting in the fall, and the cold and snow of winter.

Ray was 22 and was one of the hired hands who lived in a room just off the barn. He was a hard worker, but shared Stacy’s desire to flee the Midwest.

Ray heard about a job working on a dairy farm in Arizona; he asked Stacy’s family for her hand in marriage, and after a small wedding held by the small pond on the farm, they escaped to a warm land of opportunity.

Ray and Stacy rented a house near the dairy farm. There was a farm feeling in the neighborhood, but with cactus and rock instead of maple trees and meadows. In the backyard, they decided to plant a lemon tree for color and the optimistic vision of a happy life together. Holding hands, they restated their vows under the lemon tree.

The lemon tree did not bear fruit the first year, and neither did Stacy. She miscarried her baby during the unbearable heat of summer, and she sat and cried, under the barren lemon tree.

The second year of living in Arizona was kinder to the young couple. Stacy gave birth to their son in the spring while the wildflowers were blooming and the bouquet of citrus blossoms filled the air. The flowers on their tree were bursting with white purity, so she placed Jacob in his carrier to take his picture, under the lemon tree.

As time flew by and Jacob grew, Ray and Stacy were able to purchase their house. Jacob was an active boy and loved animals. Running around in the back yard was a dog and a cat; two hamsters and one parakeet occupied cages in the house. As the smaller critters died, the family held tearful services and buried them in shoeboxes, under the lemon tree.

The lemon tree flourished, spreading out its waxy green leaves. Ray and Stacy were successful also, and enjoyed picking the fruit, making pies and lemonade, and sharing with the neighbors.

Ray started drinking, lost his job, and argued more with Stacy. When Jacob was 16, Ray and Stacy decided to get a divorce. Ray moved out and Stacy stayed in the house until Jacob graduated from high school. During the monsoon season that same year, a harsh wind tore the lemon tree in two. Half was blown over the fence and down the street, the other half looked bare and lonely. Stacy and Jacob stood together and cried, under the lemon tree.

The house started to decay, and the weeds grew through the rock. Stacy moved back to Iowa to care for her ailing parents, and Jacob stayed in Arizona. He sold the old house and moved into the city. One of the first things he bought for his new home was a lemon tree, which he carefully planted in his backyard. When the first fruit ripened, he held it in the palm of his hand, and remembered the goods times growing up, under the lemon tree.

Once Upon Several Beers...

My son, being the fine Irish soul that he is, enjoys planning Pub Crawls so he and his friends can enjoy an afternoon and evening of sampling the many varieties of brews in the world. Sometimes he invites me and my beer-drinking friend along. Just after the Light Rail opened for passengers in Phoenix, Scott organized a “Light Rail Pub Crawl,” complete with times and scheduled stops at the bars along the route. My husband dropped Mary and me off where the rail begins, and we enjoyed some beers at Wineburger. After a few drafts under our belts, we hopped on the rail at the first station. I noticed Scott had Durant’s on his list. Durant’s is an upscale, old-fashioned lounge that caters to the steak and lobster crowd. The booths are black leather, the walls are papered with black and red velvet, and the lighting consists of a dim lantern on each table – just the sort of place where Don Vito Corleone would plan his next hit.

“They’re never going to let your crew in Durant’s, Scott.”

“Watch me,” he replied.

When my friend and I arrived, his gang was gathered around the bar laughing, patting each other on the back, and telling loud stories and lewd jokes. The bar maids were catering to every whim, while the dining patrons in their diamonds and pearls eyed the noisy bar hooligans with disgust.

“Give my mom a martini, Sue,” Scott said to the bartender. Sue complied immediately.

I think a very large tip was involved for Durant’s to put up with his sleazy crowd for an hour.

We hopped back on the rail and enjoyed several more pints along the route. When we approached Mill Avenue, Mary and I were ready to hop off.

“Oh no, we’re not getting off here,” my son informed us. “There’s another place in Mesa.”

The rail took us to the end of the line in East Mesa to a bar with a pool table, a Karaoke machine, and several sleazy characters hanging on the bar. I would have preferred the piano bar on Mill Avenue, but I discovered Scott wanted this to be our last stop because he could stumble to his friend’s house and crash in a drunken stupor on his couch.

I was just in the middle of harmonizing “Sweet Caroline” with my new slut friend, when someone asked about the last train back to Phoenix. “11:00,” was the reply. We all looked at our watches, “Oh my god, it’s 10:55.”

Mary grabbed my hand and we sprinted down the street in our sexy stacked-heeled boots and barely made it inside the train car’s closing doors. The Light Rail pauses for no one. If we had missed the last train, Mary’s husband would have had to drive 35 miles to pick us up – a divorce-paper-filing event for sure.

We made it, pretending to be sober, and starving.

Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Beware the Ides of March

“Beware the Ides of March,”

For there is word of hope and change.

Beware the big man under the domed arch

For he spouts words that are very strange.

“Breaking his oath and resolution, like a twist of rotten silk,”

Blaming others for his inadequacies and blunders.

A free country is his plan is to bilk

Until freedom finally falls and flounders.

“Every citizen should be a soldier,” once quoted a wise man.

For “When the government fears the people, there is liberty.”

Which should be the country’s elected plan.

But, “When the people fear the government, there is tyranny.”

“Beware the Ides of March” is upon us

Lest we forget Julius Caesar in Roman times.

For our freedom is not a game of chess

Where the king commits the ultimate crimes.

"The democracy will cease to exist when you take away from those who are willing to work and give to those who would not.” -Thomas Jefferson

"Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." -John F. Kennedy