by Steve Kenny
conspiring against me, I thought. And that was the moment I became angry at God, which really surprised me, because, up until that moment, I didn't think I believed in God. Oh, how angry I was! and determined! I'm gonna start this fucking bike, I'm gonna finish this fucking trip. I'll push this bike home if I have to, even if it takes me all fucking day. I'll show You.
Then, along with the raging downpour and the wind, along with my anger, along with all the noise of the storm and the passing cars, along with all the raging ridiculousness of the situation and the sheer miracle of it all, the lightning began to rise up. The first streak across the sky wasn't so bad, and neither bothered nor alarmed me. Even when the thunder, which quickly followed, boomed and seemed to shake the ground below me, as well as my inner ear, close by and present, I still paid no attention. It was only, only after a steady shower of lightning began to rain down, all around me, with the accompanying explosions of thunder, that I noticed the electricity in the air and realized the danger. I was ankle deep in water, soaking wet and sitting on a hunk of metal in the rain, with lightning present.
I had no choice, then, but to abandon the bike there, in the middle of that ditch. Giving up, humiliated and defeated, I swung my right leg off that motorcycle, in that muddy gutter. With my dark sunglasses lost, my pirate-style t-shirt a soaked and muddy disgrace, my eyes and face pelted, my whole body staggered by the torrential downpour, I pulled myself upright and raised my arms skyward, just the way a man would do when told to 'throw down your weapon', and backed away, slowly, in the rain. The whole scene reminded me of Gary Senese, as Lieutenant Dan, madder than hell, without a leg to stand on [after all, haven't we always been told that we have no right to be madder than hell at anything?].
I then shouted, to anyone that would listen, "Is that all you've got? Is that it? Okay! You win! I'm backing away from the bike! Are you happy? I'm backing away from the bike."
Of course, not knowing what the outcome of that moment would be, I became quite subdued, quiet and thoughtful, as I climbed up that embankment, muddy, drenched, humbled, beaten and ragged, almost home, sans motorcycle, sans hubris.
-
-Of Great Ships And Self-Determination-
The first thing I became aware of when I became aware again, was that this was a second chance. The second thing I was aware of was that I had been given just enough time to lift my head -the way babies do when they are first learning to crawl - before the next wave struck me midthought and pressed me flat again.
A second chance! Flat on my face, cold and wet and shivering down to the bone - but glad to have it!
I held my breath to wait it out but quickly realized upon sober inspection that my reaction had come too late, and that my lungs had taken on water, but with the help of panic and that blessedly strong survival instinct given to all life - however mean - I pushed violently against the sea-sand and sprang to my feet, retching out the sea even as I rose. Bent, staggered, making my way, first by inches and then by feet - my own two feet this time - I moved up and off that gray beach.
Soon enough, I found myself at the foot of an old tree, and sooner still, for this I had planned, exhausted as I was, I found myself doing what every self-respecting person should do, if given a second chance:
I turned and faced that which I had been delivered from.
The disturbed sea moved and foamed as if it had been deeply jarred from its sleep by an argument, or a wrong. Above this great scene the gray skies,stretched out as far and as wide as the eye could see, blocked the warmth of the day and seem'd, as low and as precarious a cloud cover as and I'd ever seen, and seemed, then, so weighted down to my mind that, at any moment, I fully believed they must either release all the rains at once or crash head-on into that shore.
But that moment and that concern left me for another; a distress signal from a Great Ship far out at sea. The small flare lasted but a second or two and was gone. The gray ceilings of heavy clouds, in their efficiency, concealed more than the warmth of the sun.
It was then that I remembered from whence I had come from, and, so lately, filled with such despair.
Had I been pushed? or had I jumped? Perhaps I had been pushed into a jump? And then it was, beneath that tree, that I remembered the news, broke to us so unceremoniously.
"Hear ye, hear ye. It is by the power invested in me from the thine Owners, at whose will and pleasure I do serve, that its Guests be made aware that they are, in fact, Guests here, and not now, nor never were, volunteer crewmates upon this Great Ship. Furthermore, I have been instructed to convey to you this: You have, not now, in the future, nor ever have, from the moment that you stepped foot upon this vessel, a right to lay claim to the ownership of anything you have contributed here while enjoying your stay."
Of a greater irony and disservice I could not imagine.
Whether it be true or not couldn't be discerned precisely, yet, as I looked around, a feeling grew in me, like the the sickening thrill of a weightless stomach on a roller coaster ride.
I fell back, against that rough trunk and slowly lowered myself down onto the grass. Blinking back rain, I stared blankly out at that ship.
Of solace, I had but two options:
I could take comfort in knowing that that great ship was broken and adrift in an aimless sea, or;
I could take comfort in knowing that I still had me.
I chose the latter then, and that makes all the difference.
.
Then, as it was, then, again, it will be.
Though the course may change sometimes
Rivers always reach the sea
Flying skies of fortune
Each our sep'rate way
On the wings of maybe
Downy birds of prey
Kind of makes me feel sometimes
We didn't have to grow
For as the eagle leaves the nest
We got so far to go.
Changes fill my life
Baby that's alright with me
In the midst I think of you
And how it used to be.
Did you ever really need somebody
Really need 'em bad.
Did you ever really want somebody,
The best stuff you ever had.
Do you ever remember me baby
Did it feel so good,
'Cause it was just the first time
And you knew you would.
Dewey eyes now sparkle,
Senses grow so keen,
Tasting loves along the way,
See our feathers preened.
Kind of makes me feel sometimes,
Didn't have to know.
We are eagles of one nest,
The nest is in our soul.
Fixin' all mt dreams,
With great surprise to me,
I never thought I'd see your face
The way it used to be.
Oh darlin'
Oh darlin'.
Ten years gone,
Holding on,
Ten years gone.
Ten years gone, holding on,
Ten years gone.
-
Led Zeppelin
"Ten Years Gone"
–
-A Remembrance-
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One of the things I am most grateful for, probably more grateful for than anything else now, at my age, are memories. The truly wonderful gift of a memory is the way a moment can be seen from a third perspective, and when I think back to that particular moment in time, which I have had cause to do these past few days, I can see the happy ridiculousness of that one moment, which was but one moment, a fleeting moment among many. But also, and more importantly to me now, I see the love.
It is a sunny and beautiful day, right in the middle of a long and beautiful summer that has since passed, and yet remains, like the memory of a gentle breeze, and the ol' lady and I are still living in the little house that I have since lost. Our house sat across the street from the county courthouse, and was o
ne of only three on the block, which sports a small park in the middle, and sits on an old cobblestone street that had long been neglected and overgrown with weeds. Judges and lawyers, county cops, state troopers, local yokels, and some of my neighbors had all cruised past in that time, and must have thought I was crazy, for I had spent the better part of a week weed whacking in the street, dodging traffic [wasn't as bad as it sounds], and sweeping the cobblestones clean with a corn broom, for the length of the block, from curb to curb. Then I decided to rake up all the leaves in the small park next door. It was late afternoon, and I had had a few, and was out there, into my second day of raking, drinking my beer and wearing dark sunglasses, as if, by wearing dark sunglasses, no one would see me drinking my beer and raking leaves in a park that I didn't own. I was almost done when Ronnie pulled up and saw me out there. He was grinning and wearing dark sunglasses too, and looked at me like, what the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?
I really can't remember what he said exactly, but I remember it brought a smile to my face, and I remember I stopped raking those leaves, leaned on my rake and said, "I love you, Ronnie!" And I remember that I meant it.
He asked me to install a bathroom floor in one of his rentals over on Park Street, so I went over and took a look. The house was an old wooden thing; two bedroom, and had just been abandoned by tenants who were slobs. The power was still on, which was good, because I would have to cut into the floor down to the floor joists, which were soaked and rotting and caving in due to a long-standing, leaking stool. But the water had been turned off, which was bad, because the filthy stool was filled with pure piss, and would need to be removed, by me, and as anyone who has ever removed a stool can tell you, if you don't drain 'em