Swedenborg 18

He crouched in the alley behind the dumpster.

His breathing was fast. His heart racing.

He was crying.

Quietly. So they wouldn’t hear.

The man and the woman had come into the alley and passed where he had been hiding, planning.

In the shadows.

He listened. The man was saying all sorts of foul things to the woman. About the woman.

 

She was silent.

 

Why, he wondered. Why didn't she fight back?

 

He hated the man.

To treat a woman like that.

Only evil men did that.

Men like him.

He bit his fist.

Like me.

He suddenly wanted to rush over to the. To hit the man. To tell the woman to hit the man.

 

Why didn't she fight back? What was wrong with her?

 

Then it struck him.

 

Maybe she knew she deserved it.

 

Then the anger.

That evil man and that vile woman both deserved it.

 

He had never taken two at the same times. And no man since the war.

 

Why not now?

Two for one.

Yes.

No.

And suddenly the man slapped the woman.

 

He snarled something, and then hurried out of the alley, looking carefully, as if he did not want to be seen.

I saw you, he said.

The woman  remained in the shadows, crying, trying to stop crying, stifling sobs. She sniffed. She took a handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

 

 She then took out a cigarette, lit it, took a long drag, and blew out smoke that rose into the glow from the streetlight.

 

You did deserve it, whore. Filthy whore.

The words burned white and hot in his mind.

She took another drag, exhaled, then cast the cigarette away.

 

She started back out of the alley.

He stepped out as she passed him.

She turned at the sound.

“Who …?”

Before she could say anything more, he clamped his hand over her mouth and got behind her.

She bit. Startled, he almost released her.

But the rage took over. He kneed her in the lower back. As she started falling backwards, she reached backwards with her hands, flailing wildly.

One of the hands caught his cheek and she savagely scratched him.

He plunged the knife into her side.

She jerked, twisted, but he held tight, and stabbed again. And a again. And …

He lost count. He kept stabbing until she no longer moved.

His arm was wet with blood.

He released her, felt his cheek.

It burned.

He dragged her body further back into the alley, set her on her back and  got out the cleaver.

One chop.

Then arranged her hands.

There might be traces of him under the nails.

Two chops.

He placed the hands in a bag.

Then he held up the head into the light from the street. 

There was a scar on the left cheek, running from below the eye to the chin.

He swore.

Not for his collection.

Worthy only of the refuse pile.

With the other imperfect trophies.

Pax et bonum

Trump's Management Style

After three years of watching President Trump's management I have to admit that it is not one with which I'm comfortable.

Yes, I know it is a style a number of CEOs use, but if I were working for any of  them - or him - I'd likely look for a new job.

His style seems to be to toss out idea after idea after idea to solicit feedback - including objections, refinement, and son on - then to announce a decision. He also is very imprecise in his language, which the writer in me finds off-putting.

It seems so scattershot, and it's hard to tell what the he really is considering or if it's just something being tossed out. I would find that tiring and frustrating,

I prefer a more orderly style in which the CEO states a problem, solicits input from the relevant people, compiles a list of possibilities which is the n shared with the relevant people for their vote/consensus, then announces a tentative decision, solicits refinements, then makes the decision.

Of course, his style does seem to work for President Trump. He is richer than I'll ever be, and  he managed to get elected President and do a decent job of running the country.

So while I may find his style frustrating, if I were reporting on it I would be aware of it and take it into account in my reporting, not jumping at and reacting to every idea tossed out.

That's where some folks in the media are going astray in their reporting.

(Now, as for his bombastic, boastful speaking style, and his constant insults - I've criticized them previously.)
Pax et bonum

Social Distancing Senryu

social distancing -
Adirondack hermit shrugs
when he hears the news

Pax et bonum

That Prochoice Franciscan Again

I happened to go to the site of that prochoice Franciscan - yes, I know that's really impossible to be in any intelligible way - and he had a post about Nancy Pelosi quoting someone in a really unflattering way, and using that alleged quotation to attack the man and the administration.

I posted a comment.

Hmmm. This is based on Speaker Pelosi’s report. She has been less than truthful in the past, so I wonder if there is an objective source for this alleged comment that recorded him actually saying this, and in what context?

He responded:

She’s a Catholic and I believe what she said. She knows the Pope’s Twitter handle which is @Pontifex. She’s pro-choice as am I. I don’t agree with her on every issue but I have no doubt that she is a woman of faith. Here’s and NY Times article about her faith, https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/22/us/politics/in-pelosi-strong-catholic-faith-and-abortion-rights-coexist.html

I then replied: 

Just because someone is Catholic does not preclude that person from lying. Sadly, Catholics are as likely to lie as anyone else.

As for being prochoice, what does that have to do with the topic at hand? That seems to be an odd thing to toss in. Moreover, it tends to undermine your point. First, being prochoice is incompatible with being a Catholic in good standing – https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/why-catholics-cant-be-pro-choice#.XmOF41GPLXk.blogger - so that would go against your “Catholic” argument.  Moreover, prochoicers have a history of lying.  Here are two pieces concerning that - https://paxchristirochester.blogspot.com/2018/06/former-abortion-advocate-we-lied.html and https://www.nytimes.com/1997/02/26/us/an-abortion-rights-advocate-says-he-lied-about-procedure.html

So, citing someone as a prochoice Catholic increases the suspicion the person might just be lying!

But the Catholic and prochoice elements are extraneous to the actual point. Speaker Pelosi contends that Mr. Mnuchin said something. She has at times in the past been less that truthful, and as far as I know there is no other more objective source for this alleged statement, so that raises questions.  I was asking you to provide that.

I know my own policy when dealing with such troubling statements, especially when politics is involved. I always check for other sources – separate, objective sources that corroborate the claims.  I would state them as likely true only then. If I felt that the information was important enough to post even if I did not know for sure they are true, I always state them in a qualified way, admit that I don’t know if they are true, and ask if anyone has more information. I certainly would not base an attack on a person or a Party or an administration on such flimsy evidence. To state something as fact that later turns out not to be true or to have been distorted undermines one’s credibility.

So far, although he has posted other things, he has chosen not to post my last reply.

Maybe I was too blunt.

Pax et bonum

St. Clare - the reward is eternal

Our labor here is brief, but the reward is eternal. Do not be disturbed by the clamor of the world, which passes like a shadow. Do not let false delights of a deceptive world deceive you. - St. Clare

Pax et bonum

He Lied - Ron Fitzsimmons

https://www.nytimes.com/1997/02/26/us/an-abortion-rights-advocate-says-he-lied-about-procedure.html

Pax et bonum

Pope Francis Urbi et Orbi amid coronavirus pandemic

I got to watch and say some prayers with Pope Francis. I then went over to the St. Padre Pio Chapel to say a Rosary.

The other day, I joined Bishop Matano (online) in saying a Rosary.

This is a time for prayer, and I'm grateful for men like Pope Francis and Bishop Matano giving us opportunities to join together in prayer.

Pax et bonum

Just my speed

Some folks are not taking social distancing well.

Me, I'm fine with it.

For the reclusive soul that I am it's quite comfortable. I have spent ling periods of my life away from others by choice. Indeed, part of me would love to be a hermit.

I remember when I was younger, summer vacations were times when I was almost completely isolated from my classmates for close to two months. I read, wrote, played games, went on long bike rides, hiked in the woods, and so on. All by myself. And I was happy.

Even in my prayer life, I prefer private devotions, time alone in the chapel. I recognize the need for community, but big worship services are not comfortable for me.

This was in fact one of the reasons I left the seminary. The Sunday Masses at the seminary were open to public, and I just wanted to flee the crowds. I was not comfortable with all the socializing after Mass. I realized that if I did become a priest I would have to live with being out in the public constantly. I realized that would not be a good fit for me.

And when people ask me what my vision of Heaven is, I say its a cottage by the seashore, with just my dog and me, and with Jesus stopping by for a cup of coffee and the two of us sitting silently watching and listening to the waves. 

So except for all the hassles involved with trying to teach remotely, I am quite content during this time of social isolation.

Pax et bonum

Praise for medical personnel

In this time of a pandemic, doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel are putting their health and lives on the line to meet the needs of others.

They deserve our praise and honor and prayers.

St. Luke, patron saint of doctors; St Agatha of Sicily, patron saint of nurses; St. Camillus of Lellis, patron saint of hospital workers, pray for us.

Pax et bonum

Oh Ben

I'm reading The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. I'd read excerpts of it before, but never the whole book.

In the book, he describes the circumstance leading to him getting "married" - though I believe the marriage was a common-law one.

"But this affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, I look'd round me and made overtures of acquaintance in other places; but soon found that, the business of a printer being generally thought a poor one, I was not to expect money with a wife, unless with such a one as I should not otherwise think agreeable. In the mean time, that hard-to-be-governed passion of youth hurried me frequently into intrigues with low women that fell in my way, which were attended with some expense and great inconvenience, besides a continual risque to my health by a distemper which of all things I dreaded, though by great good luck I escaped it."

"Intrigues with low women" at the "risqué" to his health by a "distemper" - venereal disease?

He called them low women. But if he engaged in acts with them, why should he escape a similar title - a "low man."

This passage suggested to me the old sexism. If women engage in such acts, they are "low," but men are just subject to the "hard-to-be-governed passion of youth"?

Indeed, he apparently had an illegitimate son by one of these "low women," and he and his "wife" took the child in.

At least he was honorable in his actions in doing so.

In the book he also expresses some questionable views about religion. If he were around today would he claim to be "spiritual, not religious"?

Ah well, it's still a good read.

But Ben was apparently a naughty boy.

Pax et bonum

Relief Add-Ons?

The Republicans are accusing the Democrats of attempting to add riders to the Corona relief bill - Green New Deal items such as solar panel funding, women and minority quotas on boards, creation of long-lived boards (bureaucracy), and so on. The Democrats claim that the Republicans have added in lots of money to help major corporations that may not need that money.

There's probably truth to both charges. I don't have the actual proposal in front of me, so I don't know what the facts are - and I don't trust the media on either side to objectively report the facts.

I don't like it when things get unnecessarily complicated. I donate our Fraternity rent, for example, paying the parish directly. That should just be it, but our treasurer, to create a paper trail, requires me to submit a bill to her after I pay the rent, get a reimbursement check from her, and then to donate it directly to the Fraternity and get a receipt. One simple check becomes three, with two receipts added to the mix.

Sigh.

Look Congress: Just pass a simple bill to help people immediately, and leave out the agenda items.

You can try to get them later. Check with the voters first, though.

Pax et bonum

P. G. Wodehouse

Seeking something light to read in the midst of coronavirus hysteria, I borrowed a copy P. G. Wodehouse's The Code of the Woosters from the library. I had never read him before, but I was long familiar with his name and the kinds of books he wrote.

This particular book was indeed amusing. The man is a skillful wordsmith and is gifted at spinning silliness.

But I don't have an overwhelming desire to rush back and get another of Wodehouse's many books.

His silliness was enjoyable, but it's the kind of silliness I can only take in small doses.

Besides, reading the book brought back unpleasant memories.

I used to be in a relationship with a young woman who had all sorts of mental issues.

The fact that I was in a relationship with her raises questions about my own mental health, but we won't got there right now.

This woman was a bit of a recluse. She was also obsessive/compulsive by nature.

One of the obsessions she developed was reading Wodehouse. The local libraries had an ample supply of Wodehouse books, but she, being, as I noted, somewhat reclusive, did not like to go to the libraries. So she asked me to get the books for her.

I spent months going to various libraries - including the university library where I was attending graduate school - finding as many copies of his books as I could locate and bringing them to her. She easily read more than 70 of them.

As the ease of finding the books decreased, her obsessive desire seemed to wane. She moved on to other obsessions.

Some of those other obsessions lead to the rather unpleasant breakup of our relationship. But we won't go there either.

Anyway, as I was reading this book, memories of the relationship kept coming back. Indeed, some of the characters and their foibles even reminded me of her.

Except her foibles did not make me laugh.

So I may read another Wodehouse down the road, but not right now.

Ben Franklin beckons. I wonder what obsessions he had?

Pax et bonum

"Weird Al" Yankovic - Germs

Just the song for a pandemic.



Pax et bonum

Coronavirus Blues

School is closed.

All public Masses cancelled.

Libraries, movie theaters, museums, and more - all closed.

And now I've heard our parish staff have all been laid off. It may be just a temporary move to allow them to apply for unemployment insurance, but still, it must be rough on them, and it's troubling.

How long will this go on?

I'm feeling frustrated about school - the disruption to routine, the struggles with new ways of trying to teach, the separation from the students, the uncertainty about when or if we will start up again.

Given that I was thinking of retiring in June anyway, if this does end the school year will this be the end of my teaching career? Not a happy way to go out!

And with all the closings, I can't take advantage of this free time.

I have cabin fever.

At least it's not coronavirus fever ... for now.

Pax et bonum

Swedenborg ... next chapter needs work

I have been revising and posting chapters from my unfinished novel. It's tentatively titled Swedenborg, but that will not be the actual title once it's done.

I wrote some of the sections decades ago, and they are dated. But then, I might set it in the late 1980s pre-some of the current computer technology, and pre-wide-spread cell phones.

Some of the content is more explicit than I like. My moral compass has evolved. So I've been cleaning it up as I go. The next chapter is one of those problematic ones. Get out that revising pen!

Pax et bonum

Swedenborg 17

      17

 

Jack got back to the apartment long after Frank did. Frank was sprawled on the couch, reading  a thick textbook.

“How was class?” Jack asked.

“Good. Should be interesting,” Frank said, holding up the book. “Lots of reading, though. I thought your shift was over hours ago. Something break?”

“Not sure,” Jack said, dropping his bag on the cluttered coffee table. “There was a girl killed today. House fire.”

“I think I got rerouted by that.”

“A cop I know told me that it looks like the fire killed her,” Jack said. “But there are signs she may have been unconscious before it started.”

“Suicide?”

Jack rubbed his temples.

“Yeah, possible.”

“Or maybe a murder? Someone covering up?”

“Maybe,” can’t tell in Carthage these days.” He sighed. “Turns out I knew her.”

“Oh, sorry. Friend?”

“Not that way,” Jack said, flopping into a rocking chair. “The cop mentioned her name off the record. They still have to notify next of kin. I thought I’d heard it before. I went back to the station and filed a report about the fire, then checked some files.

“I’d talked to her once a while back. She’d quit the INS. Not happy. She said she wanted to talk, but before we could meet she called to say forget it.”

He gave Frank a significant look.

“You think she got scared?”

“Yeah. But then I thought about that caller today that got under Soehner’s skin. I think that might have been her.”

Frank gave a questioning look.

“She bugs Soehner, and then she’s dead. Maybe, but it might be just paranoia.”

“You haven’t been around here. Some things just seem more than a coincidence.”

“All I know is it’s a pretty violent place. I had to break up another fight. In the bookstore. I almost got arrested.”

He told Jack of the incident. Jack laughed.

“That would have given you more character,” he said, smiling. “Liza might like that. She goes for bad boys.”

“Seriously, what’s the deal with her?”

“She is a free spirit,” Jack said and chuckled. “Even said she’d like to convert me.”

“But what about all that witchcraft stuff? Come on.”

“Wicca. Careful to use the right word around her. She gets defensive.”

“She seems too smart to be serious about junk like that.”

“Oh, but she is serious. She knows a lot of it is pop feminist crap, but she went back and read the old stuff. She reads Latin, Greek, a few other old languages. Gaelic, I think. Anyway, she’s serious.”

“Nutter?”

“Who isn’t? But things do seem to happen around her. I try not to push it.”

Frank was mildly surprised. Jack prided himself on being an agnostic and picking apart everyone else’s beliefs. Frank had found his own Catholic upbringing under attack from the start, even though he hadn’t practiced in years. And witchcraft would seem to lend itself to his sarcastic ways.

“So should I bring wolfsbane or a cross to her place Friday?”

Jack looked uncharacteristically serious. “Just don’t be surprised at anything, okay?”

Frank gave him a skeptical look. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m not nuts,” Jack said. “You know me.”

“`Nuts’ is a matter of debate. But, yeah, I get it. I’ll be careful. Speaking of careful, if Soehner is so bad, aren’t you worried? You’ve gone after him, right?”

“Some things have gotten me wondering,” he said mysteriously. “I just wish I could get some real dirt. Someone on the inside, maybe.”

“Maybe I should take him up on his offer,” Frank said, chuckling. “Be a spy.”

Jack turned serious. “That would be good.”

“No, I’m just kidding,” Frank said quickly. “I’ve got too much work. And the guy gave me the willies. Besides, I’ve got a witch to deal with.”

He started to sing, “Witches to the left of me, killers to the right, and here I am …”

“Stuck in the middle with me,” Jack finished the verse.

“Can’t think of too many people I’d rather be stuck in the middle with.”

“Flirting?”

Thin ice country again.

Jack was pretty upfront about being gay. And Frank was equally upfront about his being strictly straight.

But it had led to others speculating about the nature of their relationship.

“By the way,” Frank said, “one of the things about Liza is she’s pretty, um …”

“Sexual?” Jack finished. “Yeah. She’s pretty bold about it. She flirts openly, and I think there’s been more than a few guys. She says it’s an energy thing.”

“Part of the wicca stuff?”

“At least she says so. I think she just uses it as an excuse. Never serious about any of the guys, as far as I can tell.”

Jack smirked and added, “And I think she’s got you in your sights.”

“Yeah, right. And what’s all that virgin crap?”

“You’re about the most virginal guy I know. I’ve even been with more women than you, and I don’t even like them all that much.”

“Liza too?”

“Well, yeah, once or twice. Friend sex when there was no one else around.”

Frank shook his head.

“Oh, there’s that prude streak in you coming out. Let’s eat before you start to lecture me about venereal diseases Sister Frank.”

Pax et bonum

Swedenborg 16

16       

There. There. There.

He fired again and again. The bodies piled up.

He ducked as if he was being shot at, fired … a knocking.

Muttering a curse, Art put the game on hold.

“Yes,” he snarled.

“It’s Stas,” a voice came. “Stas Dadlez.”

The name sounded familiar. Then Art smiled.

“Yes,” he said, “come in.”

He turned the computer console around.

Stas entered the room and nodded.

“I made the contact,” Stas began.

“And he seems open to meeting again?”

“Yeah, he seemed agreeable.”

Art snorted. “Mr. McMann always tries to be agreeable.”

“I’m going to suggest we get together outside class. Study together. Maybe meet some of his friends. I already met one.”

“Oh?”

“Some blonde teaching assistant. Kinda hot.”

Could it be? But of course, Frank was staying with that faggot Plantir.

 “Liza Lotechewski?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Stas smirked. “I’d like to get to know her better.”

“By all accounts, she likes male friends. Lots of them.”

Stas snorted.

“She is someone else we want watched, so go ahead,” Art said. “And Staples?”

“He didn’t say anything weird in class. No religious crap. He looks real sick.”

“Yes. I don’t think he will be with us long.”

Art fell silent, lost in thought. Stas waited expectantly.

Art looked at him and snapped, “All right, fine, Keep it up. Now you can go back to your internship.”

Stas left. Art nodded.

Things were going well. Just as he’d planned.

When Soehner had heard that Staples was coming, he told Art to keep tabs on him. Art had done some checking, and found Stas was enrolled in Staples’ class, and was looking for an internship. A meeting had been enough to convince him Stas was open to a bit of spying, for a slighting larger stipend.

That Frank was in Staples’ calls to was a bonus – and that through him Art could have contact with Plantir and now Liza was gravy.

It was going to be a good summer.

He pulled the game up.

A good time for some killing.

He fired. Another body.

I’m going to win this time.

Pax et bonum

Strep?!

Amid this coronavirus hysteria, I began feeling unwell over the weekend. Wife assumed the worst. I did not - the symptoms were not right.

Instead of going to the school Monday for our coronavirus response planning, I went to urgent care.

Tests showed I had strep throat. What a clichéd sickness for a teacher.

On meds. Quarantined until this afternoon. I will pop into the school to pick up some things, then work from home.

According to the governor, schools are closed for two weeks. Will it go longer? Coronavirus is a real issue, and for some at-risk people, a very serious matter. I think they are right at this point to err on the side of caution. 

Pax et bonum

St. Thomas More Clerihew

St. Thomas More
wandered into a Denver marijuana store
where he was chagrinned by the cornucopia
of products labeled "Utopia."

Pax et bonum

Wodehouse

Looking for something light to focus my eyes on, I nipped up a copy of P. G Wodehouses's The Code of the Woosters from the library. I'd never read Wodehouse before, but he's been lingering in my gray cells for a long time.

So far, jolly good.

Pax et bonum

Religious verses

Choir's summer break -
melodies and harmonies
scattered through the church
 
fingering my beads
beneath the haloed street lights
October thirteenth

St. Rose of Lima’s
recipe for vanity –
add some pepper 

 

Fatima shrine -
bullfrogs keep vigil
in Rosary pool

Ash Wednesday –
the check-out girl
wipes her forehead

mother's rosary -
threads still hold
where links had broken

A priest
silently prays
in the back of the church,
and just then, somewhere, someone's soul
is stirred.

Abbey chapel –
monks celebrate Mass
as crickets chant

Summer thunderstorm -
Franciscan chapel shelters
Brother Bee and me

 

Blessed
now Solanus
Casey, holy doorman,
may you inspire us always to
give thanks.

San Damiano

"'One day in the church of St.
Damian, he (St. Francis) hears
words spoken from the Crucifix:
'Go, Francis, and repair my
house; as you can see, it is
falling into ruin.'''
Fr. Stanislaus Majarelli, OFM
The roses are in bloom at San Damiano.
Their scent bleeds into the air,
flows down from the hills,
floods the streets of Assisi
like the beggars who cry,
``Bread and stones,
bread and stones.''

In the shadowy cafe,
men sit
hearing the calls.
One man spits and mutters a curse.
Another man begins a bawdy song
that pours out
into the darkening air.

At midnight: Silence.
Fog shrouds the streets
and snakes into the hills.

The hills rise above the fog
like islands in a dead sea.
And taller still
rises
San Damiano's half-built steeple
reaching toward
heaven.

 

Pax et bonum

Swedenborg 15

15

 Staples gingerly sat in the easy chair. He had managed to make it back to his rented house, driving slowly, wincing when he had to move too fast.

He’d known cancer was a painful way to die, but he hadn’t realized that the pain would be in so many parts of his body.

He picked up the pain medication from the table next to the chair. The lid was already off; he’d long ago learned that he had a difficult time opening safety caps.

 He took one pill, thought of a taking second, but instead put the cap back on the bottle.

He just needed to take the edge off the pain, but he needed his mind clear.

He wondered when the university officials would realize how sick he really was. The year or two he thought he’d have might only be months.

Good thing a student had found him in the classroom, and not a fellow faculty member.

He recalled the name: McMann.

He wondered if that was ironic. Or if he was just searching for irony.

Then he thought of Liza.

Wicca.

Wiccanism was a new name for an old belief. A new age twist to make it seem to have some legitimacy.

Playing at the fringes of what was very ancient.

Seeing only the fruit, and not the source of the voice tempting one to taste.

He’d met Liza at a faculty party before the summer term began.

It was all chit chat, and drinking, like so many faculty events.

Henry Burns, a very junior member of the History Department, was talking to her, obviously trying to charm her.

“Oh, yes,” he intoned, “the Church father were afraid of women.”

Staples caught that snippet as he was on his way to the bar.

“Ah,” Burn blurted, spotting Staples, “Professor Staples is an expert in the field.”

Staples politely stopped.

“Jack,” Burns said, trying to sound intimate, “Ms. Lotechewski, a member of English department. Liza, Jack Staples …”

“I know who Professor Staples is,” Liza said with a trace of a smile. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope that you will not hold that against me,” Staples said.

“I was just telling Liza that you were an expert on witchcraft,” Burns said.

“I have an historian’s knowledge,” Staples said modestly.

“Historian’s? Best selling theologian’s,” Burns stated.

“I am no theologian,” Staples began, “But …”

“Modesty. Modesty. An underrated virtue,” Burns said.

That you lack, Staples thought.

“The modern word is wiccanism,” Liza said.

“There is wiccanism, and there is witchcraft,” Staples said.

“Wiccanism is a form of witchcraft,” Liza said.

He recalled the look in her eyes. Anger, mixed with amusement. She wanted to debate for the pleasure of arguing, but she also wanted to prove something. Perhaps to herself.

“A topic worth discussing,” Staples said, “when there is more time than a faculty gathering can afford.”

“Any time,” Liza said. He’d sensed disappointment in her voice.

With a hint of a challenge.

Pax et bonum

An old poem rediscovered

A verse in the hand ...
                                                 

A verse in the hand is worth two in the book
(Inscribed in a gift copy of Ogden Nash's
Everyone but Thee and Me)

Once upon a Wednesday dreary
while I wandered weak and weary
up many a pulp-filled bookstore aisle,
suddenly I heard a giggle
and I saw a belly jiggle:
I knew right then that in a while
my search would end - ever more.

I found the book that caused the mirth
in the man whose mobile girth
first drew my eye this poet's way.
I opened it and felt a chuckle
start to loosen my belt buckle.
And so, my dear, for your birthday
accept this gift - there's nothing more.

Pax et bonum

Swedenborg 14

14.

Frank spent the next few hours in the library, pouring over one of his textbooks. As he read, he tried to think of the kinds of questions Staples might ask the next day, or the topics he might raise. It was a trick he had learned early in his school life.

He was not as smart as some other students, but somehow he was able to guess what the teacher was looking for. Sometimes it was obvious; some teachers taught for the test. But sometimes, thoughts came to him from nowhere, and the next day, that’s what the teacher would ask.

Staples, he thought. What would he want?

Witches.

The word just popped into his head.

He grunted.

Maybe it was because of Liza. Maybe it was because of Staples comments about her.

Maybe it was because there was something about her that lingered in his mind.

It wasn’t because she was beautiful. She wasn’t., at least by normal standards. But she radiated an energy that was sexual, and something more.

Magic. He smiled.

How could someone so intelligent believe in magic? But then, how did he know things? Maybe there’s more things than are dreamt of in your philosophy, McMann.

He stretched his legs. They were getting stiff. Too much sitting. He needed to walk.

The campus included wide expanses of lawn. Students were sitting under trees, reading, talking, napping, staring into space.

He looked up.

The overcast skies threatened rain. He wondered how fast the lawns would clear if the rain did come.

Almost on cue, he felt a drop on his arm. He hurried across to the student life center's book store entrance.

The downpour began as he entered.

He looked back. Students were fleeing the rain. The thought of a great beast chasing them entered his mind. He felt a chill. Too many late nights watching bad horror movies.

The rain did not look like it would let up for a while, so he began cruising the aisles, looking at the books.

He stopped at a display of Professor Staples’ books. None of them were academic.

The Coming Culture Wars. Anatomy of Love. Faith at the Crossroads. The Face of Evil.

He picked up one, then another, then another, skimming through them.

Basic conservative Christianity.

Outside, loud thunder rumbled across the campus.

He looked back at the book in his hand. It was opened to a chapter entitled, “Witchcraft and the delusion of power.”

He chuckled. The old antenna is tingling, he thought.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. He turned to see two students grappling on the floor. Two other students rushed over and began kicking one of the students on the floor.

“Hey,” Frank yelled, suddenly going into teacher mode. He rushed over and pushed the kicking students away.

One of the students he’d pushed aside jumped at him, but he blocked him into a table of books.

“Knock it off,” he bellowed.

The grappling students paused. Several other students interceded, and security rushed in. A guard grabbed Frank.

“No, he was stopping it,” one of the store workers yelled. The guard relaxed his grip.

“Move along,” the guard said, releasing him.

Frank hurried out of the store. It was still raining, but not as hard.

He strode across the campus to the parking lot and into his car.

He shuddered.

I’ve only been here two days and I’ve broken up two fights. How much worse can it get?

Pax et bonum