Wednesday, December 08, 2004

The Snow Globe trilogy



The Snow Globe Trilogy
By
Glee Bohanon


Copyright December 14, 1999 by Glee Bohanon. All rights reserved. This story is my gift to you. You may quote it, copy it, or give it away as long as you credit the words to me.

Acknowledgements

The inspiration for this story came as the result of a collaboration with the Cyber-Hacks writing group. I want to thank Bob Faw, its leader, a friend and mentor to me, for providing such a wonderful place for everyone who visits there.

I also want to thank Jean Vann, a dear in every sense of the word, who wrote the opening lines. I use them with her permission, and have re-written them only a little so that the story stands on its own.

I especially want to thank you who are reading my story.

With Love

Glee


The more I live the more I believe that even though it may sometimes seem that
we do everything right and everything is still wrong, ultimately, we get what we give.

"In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make” - Beatles song.
* * *

T he snow globe
had traveled many miles hidden away in a bale of straw in a horse trailer. It stopped at rodeos and horse shows around the country and it got moved from trailer to trailer and ended up in Boss’s barn. Lately he had not felt like “Boss” at all. In fact his owner had not really seemed herself. He lay in the stable and eyed with lethargy the straw that she had just forked into his stall. He watched her as she came in to arrange it, her face flat and tired. She moved the straw around and saw the globe. She picked it up, and the movement caused the snow inside to swirl. The carousel inside the globe began to move and her face lit up. She laughed as the energy of a thousand carousels, turning in joy and the excited laughter of children filled the quiet stable.

“A Christmas gift for us Boss! I wonder how it got here.”

The stable was filled with light and it was as if the years rolled away. There was joy, laughter, and love. The horse did not kneel like the old carol said, but he stood and his legs were strong. He neighed and she shouted with joy. As the whirling lights in the snow globe lit up the stable, Glee thought of another stable in the long ago and far away. One she had never seen except in her imagination.

Boss shook himself as if awakening from a bad dream, nuzzled her hair with his velvety muzzle, blew soft air against her cheek, and began to nibble at the fresh hay she brought him. She watched in wonder as he seemed to transform into his former self before her eyes. His coat shone in the light from the carousel. His neck once again arched proudly as he tossed his head at her. Tears of gladness began to streak their way down her cheeks.

“Oh Boss, It’s a wonderful Christmas present.”

She had no idea how the globe got where it was. The only person other than the veterinarian to enter her barn for many months was Murphy. He had been wearing a big coat with voluminous pockets. Perhaps he dropped it, she thought. She recalled how Murphy had been delighted with the horses. He recounted times past when he was a boy. His face shone with pleasure when they nuzzled him and blew their breath in his face as a way of greeting and accepting him into the herd. He had held Boss’s head in his arms and fed him handfuls of grain, which Boss nibbled at dispiritedly.

Murphy said, “I believe he’s on the mend.”

But Glee didn’t see it.

Later, they sat together in her kitchen, two lonely people, and remembered lost love. They would speak a while, and then sit silently together, sipping their drinks. After a long silence, Murphy told her of the girl he loved.

“The prettiest girl I ever had.”

He spoke of the fun times they had together, their lovemaking, the day they parted. She had not permitted herself to cry, not then, though her heart ached for him. She thought he was still in love with Annie.

As she gazed into the globe, she thought the man looked remarkably like Murphy, and the lady was indeed young and very beautiful.

“This must be Murphy’s” she thought.
As she gazed into the globe, she wished that Murphy would find Annie again. She carried the globe into the house and put it on a shelf in the kitchen. For the next several days, the globe sat there forgotten. Then, one day when she was cleaning off the shelf in the kitchen, she saw the globe there, and decided she should return it to its rightful owner. She drove by his apartment. He wasn’t home so she left the globe on his doorstep with a note that said:

“You must have dropped this when you were over the other night. Hope all is well with you. Love, Glee.”

As she drove away, she didn’t notice how the globe began to glow with a warm light and the carousel began to whirl.

It was many weeks later when she was sitting with friends on her favorite barstool that Murphy came in. On his arm was the prettiest girl she had ever seen.

“This is Annie.” he beamed.

From his pocket, Murphy pulled out the globe and handed it to her.

“This isn’t mine” he said. “I want you to have it back.”

As he handed it to her, it began to glow softly and the carousel slowly began to whirl. Murphy looked deep in her eyes and said in almost a whisper:

“May love find its way to you, my friend.”

After Murphy left, Glee sat a while. Then almost as an afterthought, she scooped up the globe, dropped it into her bag, and crossed the parking lot to her truck. The wind was blowing and a snowstorm was blasting in from the North. Time to head home, she thought, though not with much pleasure. A tear trickled down her cheek as she recalled his last words to her, for she was sure she would never see him again. She was happy for Murphy.
* * *
A s she pulled her pickup out onto the slippery road, her headlights caught a figure struggling with a bicycle in the already deepening snow alongside the road. There was a slight hill here, and the figure was struggling to push the bike along through the slush. Hers was the only car along this lonely stretch of road. She recognized Walter. He was a well-known street person. Everything he owned in the world was affixed to that bicycle. It was a sturdy Schwinn, a vestige of happier days. There were balloons, now limp in the cold air and colorful plastic bags and streamers made of yellow construction tape. His basket held some returnable bottles and cans gleaned from the leavings alongside the road. The deposit from them would be all he had to buy a meal. From the looks of it, she thought, he would be hungry and cold tonight. He was far from the place he called his home, a wooden crate lined with pieces of Styrofoam in an alley behind the Box Bar and Grill in Plymouth. It was perhaps 10 or 12 miles away. As cold as it was and as thinly clad as Walter was, she was not sure he would make it there. Walter knew her by sight. They had sometimes chatted on a summer evening when she walked alone at night because she couldn’t sleep.

She pulled over and asked Walter if he’d like a ride home. At first, he shrank back, and then recognizing her voice, he smiled wanly and said,

“Yes, I believe so.”

He insisted on placing the bicycle in the back of the truck himself, even though Glee could see his strength was nearly gone. She was alarmed at the pale face that settled wearily into her front seat. As the heater began to warm him, her nose was assaulted with the ripe smell of a long unwashed body, and smells from the dumpsters where he gleaned his meals.

“Walter, have you eaten today” she asked?

“No, I don’t believe so” he said flatly.

“Would you like to come home and get something to eat? I have a huge pot of chicken and dumplings in the refrigerator. You could get a warm bath and I could wash your clothes. I think I have an old coat of Ed’s you can have, too.”

After a long pause, he said “That would be most kind of you, but I don’t want to put you out.”

“No bother, Walter, I would be glad of some company. My house is so silent now that Ed is gone.”

He nodded absently, and began his litany about the ills of society, which she had heard word-for-word many times.

“Procreation is the sin. It will end civilization as we know it…”

He went on and on almost without breathing. His voice was pitched high and he spoke in a singsong staccato rhythm. He rocked forward and back as he spoke. Glee was afraid he would hit his head on the windshield, but he just managed to avoid it.

When they pulled up the lane to her farm, he began to worry about leaving his bicycle out in the weather. She assured him that it could spend the night in her barn out of the wind. This seemed to satisfy him, and she helped him put it in the barn. It took the two of them struggling to get the huge sliding door shut. Walter was winded from the effort and began to cough as they climbed the steps of the porch. By the time she got him inside, he was almost unable to stand. She took his arm to steady him and helped him sit down in a chair at the kitchen table. He coughed and rested while she fixed him some hot chocolate. She ran a warm bath and got him some clothes from the closet where Ed’s things still hung. He seemed somewhat recovered after drinking the warm liquid.

“Don’t you have any whiskey?”

“Sure. You can have some right after you get a bath.”

This seemed to appease him, and he went placidly off to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

She busied herself in the kitchen warming the chicken and dumplings and putting out bread and butter and a tumbler filled with Jack Daniels. This was to have been her meals for the week, but she figured she could always make more, and Walter needed a hot meal.

He came out of the bathroom wearing Ed’s jeans and a flannel shirt. The jeans were too short, and way too big around the waist, but they were clean and Walter didn’t seem to notice. He handed her his clothes, mostly rags. She put them in the washing machine, and it hummed away in the laundry room. Walter ate with both hands a spoon in one, a fork in the other. When the food was gone he mopped up every last drop of gravy with a wad of bread, and gulped the whiskey down in one long swallow. She poured him another, and he drank this one more slowly, his eyes fixed on something far away and long ago.

His eye spotted the globe which Glee had placed back on the kitchen shelf. As he looked at it, it began to glow and the carousel began to ever so slowly turn. He began to tell her of his mother who had died. He had been sitting with her when she went. He spoke in simple terms, his mind barely able to grasp the concepts and make them into words.

“I wish I could go where she is.” He said simply. “I miss her.”

He seemed transfixed by the globe, and Glee asked him if he wanted it.

His face momentarily lit up, “Oh, yes.” He whispered. “She looks just like Mom, you know. The man, that’s my Dad. They would be so ashamed to see me now, a crazy bum, something to be found dead in a snow bank next to the road. I don’t want to die all alone. ”

She fixed the bed in the extra bedroom and led him there. He grasped the globe in one hand like a priceless jewel. Carefully she placed it on the bed stand next to the bed, and watched his face in its glow as he watched it turn. She sat in the old rocker across the room as he fell asleep. His breath was coming in harsh rasps. Sometime during the night after she had dozed off to sleep, Walter got his wish.
* * *
A fter the emergency crews left taking Walter’s inert form with them, Glee cleaned the small bedroom. When she was done, she picked up the globe and placed it on the kitchen shelf. She was lost in thought about Murphy and about Walter, and failed to notice how it began to glow faintly when she touched it. Later that night, she sat at the kitchen table, alone, toying with the food on her plate, not really hungry. She hated eating alone and cooking just for herself. She gazed at the globe on the shelf, and wondered who it belonged to and how it got here. As she looked, the snow began to whirl and the carousel began to turn. She thought the two figures were smiling, and she bent closer to see if it could be so. The globe glowed brightly and sparkles of light danced about the room.

As she looked intently, she thought the figure of the woman looked like her! She picked up the globe and was looking at it intently, noticing the man wore a big mustache and had twinkling blue eyes.

“Oh, I wish someone like that would come up my driveway,” she thought.

Just then, there was a knock. It was cold outside, and when she opened the door, snow whirled inside and seemed to dance about the entire room, as if the kitchen had become a snow-globe itself. There stood a man in a faded denim jacket. His jeans were frayed at the hem and his boots were well worn. His face was weathered and creased. He put his hand up to tip his cowboy hat as he said

“Ma’am, I hate to bother you, but my truck slid into the ditch. I wonder if I could use your phone to call my son.”

As she looked into his bright blue eyes, it seemed she already knew him somehow. It didn’t register in her mind that he had a big bushy mustache.

“Sure, come on in.” She never thought for a minute that this might not be a wise thing to do.

He called, but the son was not at home and the wrecker was going to cost a lot.

“I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t have much money. I just moved here from Montana and haven’t got a job yet.”

“I’ll get my coat. Maybe the tractor will start and I can pull you out of the ditch.”

For some reason, she put the globe into her coat pocket and together they trudged out to the barn. He looked about and saw the broken door to the shed, the fence poorly patched, and the tractor sitting to one side with a flat tire.

“Looks like you need some help around here.”

She just looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“There’s an air compressor here in the barn,” she said.

As they pushed the door to the barn open, the horses called out cheerful greetings.

“It’s their dinner-time,” she said.

He spied Walter’s bike still leaning where they had left it.

“Is this your bike?”

“Oh, no, it belongs – belonged - to Walter.”

As she explained about Walter and how the bike got where it was, a tear tracked its way down her cheek. He turned away without saying a word. He moved about looking at each horse. He stroked Boss’s sleek hide and said,

“Nice bunch you’ve got here.”

Later, as they bent to the task of pulling the old truck out of the ditch, she didn’t notice when the snow-globe fell out of her pocket and rolled to the side of the road. When the truck sat idling in the driveway, he got out and took her hand in his.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m staying with my son, and he doesn’t live far from here. I’ll get that shed door put back up and see what I can do about the tractor tire.” After a pause, he said “You’ve got the prettiest brown eyes.” He winked, got into his truck and drove away.

Glee smiled to herself as she walked slowly up the lane. She stopped and scooped up some snow and made it into a snowball. She threw it as hard as she could and it soared over the house.


S he didn’t see the old car stop. A young man with tousled hair and a troubled look scooped up the snow globe and the car zoomed away into the night.
∞ ∞ ∞

Sunday, September 26, 2004

I Believe

I will preface what follows with this qualifier. I am not lost, nor do I need to be "saved". I live my life according to my beliefs. They have worked very well for me through out my life. I stand ready to revise them if somehow they prove to be inadequate or take me in a direction I don't want to go. I haven't always followed the correct path. Sometimes I have wandered, sometimes I have deliberately violated a principle to see if it works or not. Every time, I have been unhappy and have suffered bad consequences. I also have no desire to convert anyone to my system. I discovered it myself and I believe that is the best way for someone to have a belief - by discovering it for themselves. That process is painful, and takes a lot of effort. But, I think that no belief is meaningful if it isn't "yours" If you don't "own" - it if it hasn't come from within yourself and become part of you.

I will start with the simplistic view of a child. When I was about eight, I decided that I was special. Why I thought this, is still a mystery to me. My parents certainly didn't think so, and neither did most of the world. From that dichotomy - my belief in myself and others lack of belief in me began a search for the source of this belief. What made me think I was special? Why was I alive? Was there a purpose to my life?

Because I was a difficult child, and my home was an unhappy place for me, I spent a great deal of time alone outside as far away from people as I could get. My only companion was my father's hunting dog. We had a bond that goes beyond words. He was my confidant, my companion, my friend, my playmate, and my spirit brother. One fall, he was killed. I was so devastated that I could not eat or go to school. My dog appeared to me in dreams. I thought I saw him on the porch, but no-one was there. When I was forced to return to school, a teacher that had never spoken to me before took me aside and re-assured me that he understood my pain. He made it a point to talk to me every day after that. The compassion he displayed was a healing force for me. I began to interact in school and learn to associate with people. The death of my dog pushed me into life. Before that I was headed for a life of isolation and introspection and perhaps even insanity. (Maybe after reading this you will decide I am insane.)

I decided that something - some force had pushed this man towards me - that he was - in the eyes of a child - a guardian angel. Many, many times in my life since then similar things have happened. At the time most needed, the exact thing or person I need will come to me. It has never failed.

For many years I searched religions, and discarded them all, and read philosophers and decided they have some, but not all of the wisdom, and studied Psychologists and decided they don't have it, either. After searching what was available to me for a better way, I formed this opinion for myself.

I believe that this life-force is like an organism of which I am one part. I believe you are, and so is my dog and so are the pine trees that sit outside my window, and the birds and the air and the sea and the earth and the sun and the moon and the stars. The molecules of air I breathe are the same ones that Galileo, and Socrates and Hitler and Attila the Hun breathed. Their dust whirls about the earth and is ingested and secreted. Only a very minute fraction of the earth has ever actually left here - a few satellites that fell into the sun, and some that whirled out past Pluto and disappeared from our view. In the same way, I believe the spirit that makes us live that is "you" and "me" is an entity of itself. It takes a body for reasons we don't clearly understand, and then leaves that body to go elsewhere, but, like the molecules of dust that whirl about the earth, it never leaves. I am one such spirit in a less evolved state. My task here in this life is to experience everything life has to offer to learn from it, to help others when they need it, to love them when they need it, to feed them when they are hungry, and to be a guide if asked, and to find my own path and follow it as best I can, and finally, as part of the life-force to be a part of it and serve it as it serves me.

I think that these words are inadequate to the task of describing this "life-force". The use of the word "spirit" for example is imprecise since it bears a connotation of ghosts or other-world creatures or something equally silly. Still, I have no other word to describe it. Perhaps that is why ancient men needed to name this force something. Perhaps that's why they invented the concept of "God" to represent the life-force, and "soul" to represent the spirit that dwells within each of us.

But, the danger of naming a thing that is bigger than we are is our need to control it, and our need to establish rules by which it operates, and other rules by which we can bend it to our will. Thus, the perversions of religion which is a man-made convention, are an attempt to super-impose the will of man over a timeless and all-powerful force. This force exists beyond language. It operates in dimensions we can't perceive on a time-scale that is past, present and future all running in spirals, not in the linear way that we, as humans can understand.

I call myself a pagan because I reject the man-made religion of Christianity. But, I am not a Pagan, either. They believe in gods of this and that, and I only believe in one life-force, and in the spirit that dwells within me and every living thing. It's not merely a concept - it is my belief, and as such it is sacred - to me.

glee

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Partnering

I watch Animal Planet on TV a lot unless its' about bugs. My satellite company has lots of these: Discovery, History, PBS, etc and I have them all. There was a bit on hyenas. I didn't know that they mate for life, and they hunt in mated pairs. They are very successful. The males help in the care and feeding of the pups, and when the two hunt, they are three times more successful in making a kill. Often, the single hyena starves to death.

So, one hyena plus one hyena equals three times the kills. Interesting how this biological unit defies the laws of mathematics where one and one always equals two. That's true in humans, too. Two people don't live as cheaply as one - or only twice as well as they would alone. They live three times better than they would alone. Yet, in our society, keeping partners together is a real challenge. We are failing at it miserably. If pairing up is so beneficial, why is it so difficult for so many?

Well, I have a little experience in the partner category, and naturally I have an opinion about this.

It's because you need a quest.

I have always known that I am not most effective as a leader. I am most effective as a partner. The song "You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings" was written for/about me. My second most favorite character after Gandalf is Sam the wise, Frodo's loyal friend.

On a side note: the image of Gandalf (Do I have the name of the wizard
right?) on Shadow fox always makes my heart beat a little faster.

To me, Sam is the hero of the story, not Frodo. If he hadn't carried Frodo at the end, then the evil empire would not have been defeated.

I can lead if the occasion calls for it. If my partner stumbles, I can pick him up and carry him. As long as he's leading the way, I can cover his backside. But - my partner has to be on a righteous quest. I cannot and will not follow blindly behind a fool. My partner can have a few foibles and I will cover for him, but he cannot be without character. Frodo accepted a task that was beyond his knowledge and strength and without Sam and a cast of supporting characters, he would have failed. Frodo knew this and accepted the task anyway. He was strong beyond anything anyone could have expected. He paid ultimately with his life.

I am talking about a partner, an equal, walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and side by side; each with strength and the pair of us on a journey together regardless of adversity. It takes character. It takes wisdom, and loyalty and intelligence and bravery. It takes endurance, too. You have to stick it out when the going gets tough - both of you. When I choose a new partner, you can believe he will be worth the effort. His cause will be just, and his heart will be true. I know such men exist. I was partnered with one for 32 years, and I stuck it out to his last breath. I'm resting now. The way there at the end was hard, and it took its toll. Wounds take time to heal. Standing at the brink of eternity takes your breath away.

In my life always - ALWAYS - what I need, not necessarily what I want, has come to me. Somewhere there is a wizard who needs a sidekick, and he's wandering in my direction.
glee

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Ye Olde Philosopher

Ye Olde Philosopher got up this morning to bright fall sunshine. The sky seems to have taken on a crisp edge. I can’t see that it’s any less blue. It just feels like fall. Billy da Kidd seems a little pouty. He was prevented from wandering across the road by being put on his long cable. The road is too dangerous for doggie wanderings these days. Traffic has increased, and the speed of those yuppie SUV’s is criminal. I doubt they would even notice if they ran over his precious body. I tried to distract him with a game of ball, but he would have none of it. He fetched it twice and then sat down with his back to me. I know he did it just to please me, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Something else might be bothering him. I was petting cats again. In his book, this is a betrayal of our special friendship. I reassured him that although I may play with the cats at times, he is the only dog in my life. Tango, the fat cat, has the biggest mouth for a cat I have ever seen. He meows all the time. He called me to the door, and then Little Joe, the charcoal one came in just plastered with burrs. He jumped up on the bench at the back door where I keep boots, jackets, gloves, horse whips, brushes for dogs and cats, and towels at the ready for muddy paws. He rolled over and revealed a furry belly all covered in the nasty burrs that typify fall in the country. Joe is the one who crawls under things, so he seems to get the most of them. The other two are more high up sorts of fellows. Well, someone has to do the underneath work. Otherwise, the mice would take over everything. Joe is the shy one, and the most docile, but he is the one most likely to bring a mouse to the back door in spite of his diminutive size. There was no sign of Pinky Wash Chowski this morning. He is the odd one. He always needs a separate entrance and a different path to follow. He’s Billy’s special buddy. He thinks he should have been a Golden Retriever. After all, Billy lives the life he would like to live – and, he’s color-coordinated. I have pictures of him and Billy curled up together taking a nap. Pinky has his head resting on Billy’s paws. If I ever get a digital camera I will post pictures here.

I suppose I will trim the roses, and pull weeds in the front flower bed today. Also, I need to look up fence vendors. The posts for the front fence are in. I have had lots of trespassers, and the road frontage on that side is too dangerous. If the horses should decide to run through the single electric tape I have used for years, they might be killed, or worse, cause someone to be in an accident and get hurt. I am also worried about thieves and vandals. A fence won’t solve all these problems, but it will head off a lot of them. I feel hemmed in by the fence even though I can’t even see it from the house. There was always open space there before, and now it’s closed off. Another change that has me and all of the neighbors concerned is the new well that went in yesterday on the open field next one over from me. That means a new neighbor is coming. I hope they like dogs and cats and horses and quiet times.

Changes they are a coming. I think Bob Dylan wrote that – or maybe not.

glee

Monday, August 02, 2004

Haiku





A Clocus Brooming




in the Brak Yaad Flogs Cloaking



GreeWitch - Clacking Up