Wellfield Botanic Garden Elkhart Indiana

   Wellfield Botanic Garden in Elkhart Indiana is my favorite place to walk and clear my thoughts. Today, Friday, May 15, 2020 is the first day of the year that it is open for members. As a member, I was there at noon, when the doors opened.

   The Garden will be open to the public on May 22, 2020. Please see their website for more information:

https://wellfieldgardens.org/

   Bearing in mind that I am an amateur at photography, I offer a couple of videos that give a sense of the beauty of the garden. These videos do not bring out the fullness of life and color present in the garden. Nor do they give the correct sense of acreage covered.  So, to experience the fullness of life and color, you are invited to visit and see for yourself.

The Garden is full of the sounds of birds as well.

Also, you may hear the sound of a nearby train in the background!

Enjoy!

A Brief Memorial for Dwight Grieser

For those that remember Dwight Grieser as a teacher at Concord during the early 1970s I offer a brief memorial.

   At the site of the College Mennonite Church on the campus of Goshen College there is a memorial circular walk way. On a wall of the building there are plaques named after deceased folk. One such is for Dwight Grieser.

   I have two distinct memories of Mr. Grieser.

1. I had first come from Detroit in 1969. During those days at Concord we had clubs at the end of the day. I had registered for “Leisure Club”. This was a club where folk played chess, cards, board games and such. Being new to Concord, I had not yet developed friends. Mr. Grieser came by and asked why I was not playing. I responded “I don’t know who to join.”

Mr. Grieser said “Well, you better figure something out or you will have to leave.”

I would have been content watching others play while I observed the social interactions of those involved in playful competition. But, since I did not want to try to find another club, I thrust myself into a card game. I remember Deb Pinkerton being helpful explaining the rules of the game.

   2.The other memory I have of Mr. Grieser was his advice of choosing a wife. While in Social Studies class, Central building, he offered…”Boys, if you want to know what your girlfriend will look like in twenty to thirty years, take a good look at her mother. That will be a good indication.”

   Why he felt it useful to offer such advice during Social Studies I don’t know. But I always received his advice with a twist of humor.

I wonder what advice he would have given the girls.

My wife, Sherry Borglum, stands by the memorial wall

In Defense of Unassuming Colloquialism

 I would encourage anyone to be sufficiently in command of proper language, grammar, spelling, and pronunciation so as to be effective when composing an academic paper, an application for work, or other professional contexts.

   Not any the less, I affirm and defend in casual conversation, whether in person or on social media, the use of unassuming colloquial communication.

    While I value and try to be diligent with my grammar and such, I acknowledge that I too have become embarrassingly relaxed by auto-correct functions of social media and Word document such that my precision, once admirable, has waned.

   But my real issue of advocacy is this: I am amused by the way people speak and write differently. I embrace the variations.

Again, so long as you adhere to acceptable conventions in academic and professional settings, I affirm your relaxed speech in common contexts.

If I say realtor while you say realitor, I know what you mean.

If I say jewelry while you say jewlery, we mean the same thing.

If I say “I couldn’t care less.” as you say “I could care less.” I get it.

If I say regardless as you say irregardless, I am not confused.

You just be you.

If you think highly enough of me to have friendly conversation, you’ll hear nary a word of criticism from me!

Knowing Scripture

Hand of God reaching down in love

Joshua 1: ⁸ This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success.

Now, fore sure, those that claim Jesus, Christians, acknowledge that those words written for a Hebrew people may have had a context and application somewhat different from what we may apply today.

   But the core context is timeless, reaching across generations, nationalities, and languages. This core context has to do with knowing and doing God’s will.

   The way we get to know God’s will is by reading the Bible, allowing it to sink into our brains, and then observing…doing God’s will.

   Folks, I eagerly want to get beyond this Covid 19 “stay at home” season.

But, as we are stuck at home, take it as an opportunity to read the Bible and seek out its meaning.

Perhaps keep a journal and record your thoughts as you read.

Perhaps draw pictures of the stories you read.

Perhaps keep a scrap book of the news of the day and references to Scripture you have read.

Make these days count…increase your knowledge of Scripture.

Giving Peace a Spiritual Chance

Scripture: John 20: 19-31

Jesus appeared in the midst of disciples who were scared and filled with anxiety to bring peace.

In the midst of your anxiety do you notice that Jesus stands there saying “peace be with you”? And Jesus showed the disciples his hands and side. Not only does he offer them evidence, it is the evidence of painful sacrifice. Jesus, as he offers them peace, directly associates that peace with his sacrificial work for them. A lot like saying…” I have done it, I have paid the price, it is settled, you are completely and totally atoned for, and free.

    Now that is peace.

“ And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

My goodness, isn’t that a little like Genesis, chapter 2…

^“7 Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.”

Many folk, raised in the church, cannot state a specific time of accepting Jesus. It was more of a natural development of relationship.

    Still, even if you were raised in the church, you have to make the call for yourself at some point. But my emphasis today is… we become new, spiritual creatures by the breath of God…Jesus. And the stuff of that new, spiritual life is the Holy Spirit.

Allow the Holy Spirit to calm you and to motivate you toward a deeper relationship with Christ.

Lord, bring us peace today. Bring personal peace, family peace, community peace, and national peace. Amen

I Miss Baseball

Bosse Field Evansville

   I miss baseball. Though I was never good at actually playing the sport, I enjoyed being on the field, swinging the bat (too soon, too late, too high, too low), making errors in the out-field. Yes, I miss baseball. I humorously tell folk how accomplished I was at the game…”I caught every ball that came my way. I caught it in the head, I caught it in the nose.” and so on.

   While in school as springtime claimed its seasonal rights P. E. class would take the field. I remember the aroma of a leather glove and I felt a bit “like somebody” as I slipped my hand into the glove as if it were an award. I remember the sting of a well-batted ball slamming on my chest or my leg and my astonishment that I survived!

Mostly, I was thrilled when, swinging the bat; I accidentally made contact with the ball such that I made it to first base! What an accomplishment! Arriving at first I would feel my heart beating, the warmth of sunlight, I saw the glare of surprised classmates expressing “huh?” in silent unison.

Moving on to second, or third, or home was usually about the performance of other batters. Yes, some could steal bases, but generally, advancement from first base was due to others getting hits.

Baseball was a game I could understand. Typically, the action was slow enough that I could follow the target of action and grasp the results.

I was particularly interested in the statistics of baseball. Living in Detroit Michigan during the 1960s, I was a Tigers fan. I paid attention to each player’s stats and the games won/lost by the various teams. It was a bit easier in the 1960s before there were so many new teams.

Yes, I miss baseball. I look forward to opening day, whenever that may be. The last actual game I attended was The Evansville Otters at Bosse Field.

Bosse Field is one of the oldest baseball parks in the country. The movie “A League of Their Own” was partially filmed there.

Whether Major League, College, church league or neighborhood kids, Baseball is good old-fashioned American fun!!!

But if you want to win games, don’t ask me to play!

Exercise Those Church Bells!

Karen Nokes, Administrative Assistant and faithful servant, reports the following…

“Here at Willow Creek, we had a call come in yesterday from a church neighbor requesting that we ring our bells on Sunday morning for Easter. She missed hearing them on Sundays... I put the request into our Trustee Chair and had the thought about asking all churches to ring theirs too (or the equivalent). That it would be an amazing way to celebrate socially distanced unity!!!”

I too think it a wonderful idea!

I encourage each church to have some responsible person enter their church on Easter and chime their bells at their usual worship time.

Please know that this is not an invitation for people to gather at the church. Rather, enjoy the sound of the bells in your homes, in PJs with coffee.

Or, you may visit Youtube and listen to bells at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mu1hYDrJNuM

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem about Bells on Christmas Day. His sentiment is consistent with Easter also.

As I like to tell people…once Jesus was born on Christmas Day, His resurrection on Easter was inevitable!

I offer the concluding verse...

Then pealed the bells more loud
      and deep.
"God is not dead, nor doth he
      sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to
      men!"

My Introduction to the Long and Winding Road

Updated April 13, 2020

Thanks to R. Keith Hunter…veteran, biker, bad ass extraordinaire,,,I now have a 45RPM of “The Long and Winding Road” This record is a legitimate “Apple” release. I can tell by the etched-in “Phil and Ronnie” on the vinyl close to the label. Phil Spector(producer) was married to Ronnie of Ronnie and the Ronnetts at the time.

Again…thanks sir!!!

My fifty year old sleeve

Sometime late in April, 1970, age fourteen, I was ascending the Grand staircase in the Central building of Concord Junior High school in Elkhart County Indiana. As I approached the second floor landing I heard from the teachers lounge a WLS disc jockey announce that the next record would be the Beatles newest song not yet released. Being a Beatles fan, I decided to enter the unoccupied teacher’s lounge and waited to hear this new recording. Class was very soon to begin and thus all teachers were where they were supposed to be while I was not. I was to be in Mr. Springer’s third period math class.

I enjoyed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. A window was slightly ajar to allow cigarette smoke to escape, as evidenced by the cigarette butts and ashes in circular glass trays on the sill, the well-worn and stained sofa, all remain in my memory as companion attributes of the moment during which I first heard what was to be my favorite Beatles record…”The Long and Winding Road”

I sat there on that sofa drinking teacher coffee from a bright yellow ceramic mug while listening to the McCartney voice, which I knew well. I loved the choir and orchestra production of Phil Spector, though I would not know for a few weeks that it was he rather than George Martin who had made that production-contribution.

    The vagueness of the lyric compelled my poetic attention. I knew from previous recordings that Paul could be quite literate and poetic. And then sometimes perhaps his word gatherings lacked the fullest of substance giving the initial impression of literate value but then upon examination one discovered that the lyric left one with a sense of having not fully arrived.

Such is the case with what is to this day my favorite verse of any song…

The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Why leave me standing here?
Let me know the way

Now, I know that McCartney has been interviewed and has mentioned the inspiration for the song and such. But still, the lyric in general, and this particular verse remain a bit of a mystery enabling me to always be on the lyrical journey, to always feel that this lyric and this song is fresh and that I have never wearied of it.

The song came to a completion on that morning as I sat in the teacher’s lounge and then I wondered what I would offer as an excuse for being late to class.

   As I entered my math classroom, indeed Mr. Springer requested a reason. As I had just walked across the campus from the gymnasium building and made a couple of twists and turns while ascending the stairs, I was inspired to answer “Well, it was a long and winding road from P.E. class to here.”

Mr. Springer, with half-smile, seemed to accept my impromptu excuse.

It would be sometime in May 1970, after formal release, that I would purchase my copy of the 45 RMP at Jack’s Record Store on Main Street in Elkhart.

Somewhere along the decades I seem to have misplaced the record itself.  I still have the original sleeve which bears much sentimental value.  At the time of purchase I found that the simple black sleeve indicated that the product, the group, sold itself and needed no photos or endorsements. The beautiful cursive “The Beatles on Apple” with “Apple” in green gave the feeling of something of classic and pinnacle status.

The lyric, the song, even the empty sleeve remain of most pinnacular status in my nostalgic memory to this day.

The Central building(with tall chimney). For those that are familiar, the Flavor Freeze is across the street which is U.S 33

Boomerellis Pizza

creative lamp

Got a taste for entrepreneurial pizza? You know, the kind where the proprietor decides the ingredients and mix rather than a franchise agreement.

Sherry and I had driven past Boomerellis many times wondering what their pizza might be like.

Today we decided to give it a try.

Yep, tasty, original, packed (I do mean packed) with flavor to tickle the most resistant buds on the tongue!

I encourage you to give it a try.
they are located at: 30178 C.R. 12 Elkhart Indiana
Phone: 574-262-9808

Of course, as with all restaurants these days, it is carry-out only.

They do have a lovely dining area for whenever we get back to normal dining privileges.

for when we can dine-in again

So, place your order, pick it up, and find some safe-distanced place to enjoy. You can take it back home too.

And tell them Mike sent you!!!

Ox Bow Park, Surreal and Psychedelic

I live so much in the built world, urban area that a visit to Ox Bow Park in Elkhart County Indiana seemed somewhat surreal. A gloomy day that aspired to allow sun penetrate the overcast cast a landscape in varying degrees of grey distinguishable only to those with acute sense of color or vision.

    Not only did the color of the day and nature intrigue us, but also the sounds.

frog-inhabited swamp

   Sherry and I noticed a sound which, at first, seemed man-made, almost mechanical. When we investigated it turned out to be a cacophony of comingled sounds of bird guffaws, frog chortles, and peeper peeps.

I imagined myself a stand-up comedian before the applause of nature.

   The intertwining limbs of bare trees looked like dancers in still pose, objects of photography.

    A Psychedelic natural experience graced our walk with periodic discoveries.

insect hieroglyphs

   Sherry pointed out the “insect hieroglyphary”. The designs in the tree were made by insects crawling around under the bark. I would never have guessed! I would have been certain it was alien signals!

psychedelic design

And the fuzzy-buds promised the blessings of spring soon to burst out.

fuzzy buds

In the midst of bare trees, overcast skies and, grey landscape, spring will not be resisted. Green growth will not be denied.

greenery

Cursive Writing as Act of Compassion

I originally composed this essay a number of months before Covid 19 prompted “stay at home” isolation. I post it now as an invitation to those of you who are skilled at such penmanship to revive it and make it an act of compassion by writing letters and sending cards to those in isolation.

“I noticed for the first time how cramped and unformed was my own handwriting; without individuality, without style, uneducated even, the writing of an indifferent pupil taught in a second-rate school.” Thus concludes chapter eight of Daphne Dumaurier’s novel “Rebecca”.

   This post is an encouragement to reclaim the art of cursive writing. I am not promoting the compulsory practice of cursive writing in school.  Rather, I encourage it as an art form which can enhance the enjoyment of writing, reading, and presentation of self.

DuMaurier’s sentence implies that cursive writing can reflect a person’s individuality. In a society where people are always wishing to be unique and “set apart” from the masses, cursive can deliver such an attribute in a dramatic fashion with minimal expense.

   Her sentence hints that a person can articulate an aspect of personal style, intimate an achieved level of education. These attributes can be convincingly accomplished through writing on paper, in cursive. The writer has choice of what color and grade of paper. You also can choose the color of ink.

Cursive can give even the most unimpressive gathering of words and punctuation majesty and make it emotionally fetching.

My own handwriting is and always has been just barely decipherable, even to me at later read. Therefore, to be practical, I will stick to block lettering and that from computer software.

   Of course there is cost of paper, envelope, and stamp. But, I assert that if you want to make an impression, improve your reputation, create a sense of individuality and style, apply yourself to the art of cursive. Imagine the admiration a reader would gain for you upon seeing your words in personal, authentic, and intentionally moved ink.

Imagine the sense of anticipation inspired in the recipient of such a letter as they break the seal of the envelope with a letter opener, pull out the sheet of paper, unfold, and feel very personally addressed by your artful and comforting words to them.

The Return of Jonathan Livingston

Jonathan Livingston

A sunny, 57 degree day invited Sherry and me to visit Island Park in Elkhart Indiana. People were walking dogs and children.

As we were walking across the bridge to Island Park, I spotted a seagull resting on the fence. It was as if he was prompting us to continue. Wishing to snap a good photograph, I approached too closely and he flew away. “Sad”, I said to Sherry.

We walked a bit and then, by chance, Sherry said he was back “It must be his perch” she added. “Ah…Jonathan Livingston returns.” I quipped.

Many gulls flew around, dipped into the lake and congregated near the shore.

Sherry and I continued our springtime exploration of nature.

Geese also congregated in the river. They must be finding adequate food supply, judging by the adornments they left for us upon the sidewalk.

I am eagerly looking forward to Rhapsody in Green. New are the burgundy, metal benches occupied now only by twigs and tree seeds. Of course everyone else will want to be the first to claim a spot. So, we will have to arrive early enough to make a claim.

The next sunny, warm day we have, just like Jonathan Livingston, I invite you to visit Island Park

My 1967 Detroit "Lock-Down" Experience

   My son asked if I had ever previously experienced anything like this Covid 19 disaster. The experience that comes closest is the 1967 riot in Detroit. It was July; I was soon to turn twelve years of age, my attention to the recently released “Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club” album shifted to the news of the day. Riots had erupted in Detroit.

   The situation had grown beyond what the mayor or the Governor of Michigan could handle with their recourses.  President Johnson intervened and sent in military troops to assume command of Detroit.

   I think Detroit is the only city in our history that has been occupied by the military.

  A state of emergency had been declared. No one could go to work or even be on the sidewalks. People not complying with the “stay at home” order were incarcerated on Belle Isle.  A food truck, accompanied by military personnel came around. You could go to the truck, buy food, and then back into your home.

   During this intense, military lock-down, I, being almost 12, thought that surely the lock down would not apply to me. I was in my back yard listening to the news on my transistor radio. Curious as a cat, I ventured into the alley. All was quiet. So I took a walk down the alley. I came to the intersection of alley and street. When I stepped from the alley into the street, a soldier, the only human aside from me on the street, dressed in full military gear, turned around quickly with his rifle pointing at me.

    This almost twelve year old kid then knew the danger of thinking that “nothing will happen to me”.

I humbly said “Ok” and I turned and went back home.

I am sure that the well-trained soldier, a human being, had quickly excercised control sufficient not to pull the trigger.

    But this Covid 19 virus has no cognitive reasoning with which to restrain its full, aggressive, attack.

   Be safe. Be healthy. Stay home.

God Uses the Church Rather than Natural Disaster

Posted on Facebook recently is a suggested connection between the recent fires in Australia, the current Covid 19 pandemic and verses from 2 Chronicles 7: 11-16.

Please consider the following.

Review of 2 Chronicles 7: 11-16

    Context:

   Solomon has completed the Temple which is to be used for sacrifices. God affirms the Covenant He has made with the Israelites.

   It looks like God is providing a promise that when the Israelites stray away (as they had a habit of doing) and then turn back to him, he will accept their sacrifices and all will be well. The more faithful reading and context of this passage is that God, in mercy, by accepting the Temple which Solomon built, and by placing His Name on it, is providing for reconciliation.

    It does not appear to be an end-times prophecy. This Scripture is most faithfully read as applying to the Israelites, the Temple that Solomon built, and the sacrificial system of that day.

   I remind you of the Book of Job… Job was completely innocent and yet seriously bad things happened to him. Just because we suffer a flood, a tornado, a drought, does not indicate that God is punishing us or making a display of anger.

    Transition to the new Covenant of Jesus…

Matthew 26: 27 Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. 28 This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.

   We are not under the sacrificial system which applied to the Israelites and the Temple.

   Jesus is our ultimate and fully sufficient sacrifice.

   To claim that God uses natural disasters as He did with the Israelites during Old Testament times as a means of disciplining us today is to make the sacrifice and reconciliation of Jesus of no effect.

   The church, rather than natural disaster, is the means by which God provides for confession and reconciliation today. The church continues to pray in confession and as intercession for everyone around the world.

Being the Church Outside of the Sanctuary

    Yesterday, Bishop Trimble of the Indiana Conference of the United Methodist Church called for a four week suspension of worship services including Easter. This creates an opportunity for us to be yet more the church in the world and not merely in the sanctuary. It serves as impetus to be creative in how the church can be relevant to the world.

    As the popular hymn sings “We are the church together”!

   Let us be the church and show love for others by not placing them in danger of contracting this virus. One never knows from whom or where one may have already been exposed to the Covid 19 and then may unawares pass it along to someone else, someone with a compromised health condition.

Surely we would not want the sanctuary to be the place that someone is infected.

    Let us be the church in solidarity with those who have lost jobs, put plans on hold, and have had to dramatically change the routines of their lives. Let us make phone calls to others and speak an encouraging word. Pray with others over the phone. If you are uncomfortable creating your own prayer, recite the Lord’s Prayer. Often, in solidarity with those who suffer cancer, people will sympathetically shave off their hair. Somewhat the same, suspending worship services for a few weeks can let people know that we walk with them during this crisis.

    Let us be the church in humility. When Jesus was tempted by the Devil to throw himself off of the pinnacle of the Temple and rely upon angels to protect him, he declined to make a “show-off” display of his relationship with God. Jesus relied upon Scripture and said “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” Likewise, we should not test our God by intentionally placing ourselves or others in danger by insisting upon gathering in buildings during this time.

    In the “united in Christ” section of the United Methodist hymnal we find the song “We Are the Church”.  Oh, how many times we have sang that song and embraced its sentiment. Especially during this time we have an opportunity to actually live out what we have been singing…

” The church is not a building;
the church is not a steeple;
the church is not a resting place;
the church is a people.

I am the church! You are the church!
We are the church together!
All who follow Jesus,
all around the world!
Yes, we're the church together!”

Bill, the Pittsfield Cafe, Andy Warhol, and Edie Sedgwick

 

Mike with Bill at the Pittsfield Cafe

   On Friday, December 13, 2019 Sherry and I boarded the South shore to The Chicago Institute of Art. Sherry had wanted to see the Andy Warhol exhibit and also did I.

We arrived early in the day and decided to have lunch before viewing the exhibit.

Yes, I will describe the Andy Warhol exhibit, but first I must talk about Bill.

Sherry and I had happened upon a very cool restaurant in the Pittsfield Building named “Pittsfield Café”. This restaurant is a delightful place to eat with tasty and generous servings of food. But my favorite attribute of the restaurant was Bill.

   Bill had immigrated from Greece in 1950 when he was 17. He had worked at night while going to school during the day to learn English. Bill had eventually opened a restaurant in Chicago. He worked hard developing business until he had, at one point, four restaurants in Chicago. Around 1977 he opened the Pittsfield Café. Yes, this restaurant has operated for 42 years (perhaps under different names, I did not ask). Bill is very engaging. Eager to tell his story, which is entertaining and inspirational, one feels as if Bill uses his story merely as a way to make new friends. He is healthy, energetic, and humorous. He does not want to stop working. Just talking to this fellow makes one want to become an entrepreneur of something. Imagine…happily running restaurants for sixty years!

   His son now owns and manages the Pittsfield Café while Bill works as a host and conversationalist extraordinaire.

    As much enjoyment as Sherry and I were to have at the Museum, for me, meeting Bill was the highlight of the day. He is one pleasant person for sure.

   I encourage you to visit Pittsfield Café while in Chicago. And tell Bill that Mike says “hello”.

The Pittsfield Café is located at: 55 E Washington St
Chicago, Illinois 60602

   And you can check them out on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Pittsfield-Cafe-179465312135928/

On to the Andy Warhol exhibit;

Warhol self portrait

    I must confess, I have never been a fan of his art work. But I have always been a student of his iconic place in 1960s American culture. While living in Detroit as a kid I would read the “Tempo” section of the Detroit Free Press which covered art, music, theater and such. Always there was something about Andy and his work. Andy challenged prevailing notions of what art could be.

very early art display

   I experienced the exhibit much like going to a rock concert of some 1960s group. But, unlike the obvious aging of the personnel of those 1960s rock groups, Andy’s art has not aged at all. It comes across in person yet fresher than the photos I had seen in magazines, and Tempo.

   Walking through the voluminous display of his art made me feel as though I were back in the 1960s for a while.

   Andy also made films. There is a presentation of some of his films.

I watched one such film “Screen Test Edie Sedgwick” Edie, who I also remember reading about in Tempo, was a 1960s model and actress. She was a close associate of Andy’s. This screen test ran for four minutes and thirty-six seconds during which Edie sat motionless. Not moving her head, making only nearly imperceptible gestures, Edie stared into the camera with penetrating brown eyes that effervesced like the surface of a freshly poured Coca-Cola.

Edie

  Periodically during those four minutes and thirty-six seconds, you can see the slightest curvature of lips toward a smile being actively repressed.

   But mostly it was the blink I favor as art. As humans do, she would blink from time to time. Most blinks were half-blinks. Other blinks were full, deliberate, and ceremonious. It had come across to me that Edie had discovered a way to personalize the moment while being compliant to Andy’s instruction to remain still without facial gesture.

   Andy’s display was enjoyable. It was fun to be up close to these “bigger than life” works of art which even today seem revolutionary.

Sherry...it was her idea to visit.

You can experience Andy’s art at the Art Institute of Chicago.

It will be on display until January 26, 2020.

The St. Petersburg Syndrome

A humorous imagining of a supernatural moment.

And, of course, quite very fictional.

Copyright reserved

     Mick, the aging rock star looked pensively out the window to the roads and fields below. He took a drag from his near-spent Marlboro and flicked ashes casually, uncaring as to their landing. Landing, yes, he was deep in thought as to how to handle his meeting once he landed. The last time he visited Mahone Bay was during better times. The Learjet had been his first and most satisfying. Recently he had purchased a Vision jet but it lacked the sparkle which had been the Learjet, much like his aging self. He carried with him the tortured knowledge that the ignorance of youth was much more exciting than the wisdom of age. And yet it was the wisdom that he now had with which to negotiate. What was he to do? How would he handle this meeting?

    Arriving from the jet to Mahone Bay, the rock star exited the inconspicuous cab with a sense of self-absorbed conceit and narcissism that would cause envy to Satan himself.

     As he reached the steps to the pub two young, blond-haired and smiling women with unearthly attributes of twin similarity opened the doors greeting him. “Welcome Sir”, referring to his Knighted status rather than the gentlemanly. It was obvious to these cover-girl blonds, that he was the ultimate manifestation of wealth and taste. “Nice teeth” was his only verbal response to the blonds which he accompanied with a wide smile that seemed to indicate his sense of total and unchallenged control.

    While incognito to the outside world, the pub staff recognized him immediately, and with the butt-kiss humility he had grown to expect. One of those nice-toothed blonds, Barbara, seated him in an inconspicuous corner of the pub at an insignificant wooden table, scratched and worn. Upon this insignificant table rested a pack of his favorite Marlboro, hard pack, an ash tray, and a bottle of Glen Breton Whiskey, beside two very recently pressed shot glasses, still warm. Mick lit the cigarette with a match, his preferred method.

    He blew smoke rings as he watched the two blond-haired women close and lock the doors. They turned the “open” signs around such that they read “closed” to the outside world. Blond Millicent ceremoniously placed coins in a seriously ancient juke box. The vocal sounds of Muddy Waters accentuated a blues guitar, bursting forth from the musical artifact into an equally old pub. The sound and the surroundings comforted Mick.

Pulling his attention back to the table he noticed his guest had quietly, inconspicuously arrived.

    It had been aboard his Vision Jet that he had received a text message on his smart phone which was dedicated to this one, very special business associate. Only this associate had the number to this particular phone.

“Greetings Sir”, again the Knighted status.

“Have a drink.” Replied the rock star, flatly. Mick waited for his guest to continue.

The guest hesitantly reached for the shot glass, poured the whiskey, a bit of tremble to his hand, and also in his voice as he asked “May I have one?”, referring to the cigarettes.

With the same nod Mick signaled his permission and also prompted the guest’s awkward explanation. A tremble still in his voice, the guest began and then fell silent as if to reconsider within himself how to begin.

“Obviously the task is beyond your skills.” offered Mick.

“I need more time” as the guest poured another shot.

The cigarette dangling from his lips seemed to tremble with even greater frequency than did his syllables.

“You’ve had thousands of years.” replied Mick.

“I” began the guest.

“Be careful. Use all your well-learned politesse.” teased Mick.

The guest defended his failures. “I tempted him in the wilderness. I buddied up with Judas, I have confused generations of people with misinformation. But His presence seems to linger, unaffected.”

“You’ve failed me, Satan. I’m getting someone else to give it a try.”

     As Mick completed his judgment he snuffed out his cigarette, the smoke overwhelmed the dim light of the inconspicuous corner of the pub. Satan evaporated as if he had never existed.

    As the smoke of this supernatural session dissipated, the dim light revealed a woman sitting beside Mick. She was adorned in the richest black hair ever that graced the planet. Her jewelry was worthy of queens and pharaohs. Mick turned toward her and affectionately spoke “Cleopatra, my dear. It’s been a while.”

“I thought you’d never get rid of him. Never liked him, a bumbler without any redeeming charm. Who will you get to replace him?”

“I’ve been thinking Cleo, ever since I slithered out of the Garden of Eden and into your bedchamber…”

“Where I petitioned the gods to give you this form.” she interrupted.

“Yes, thank you.” Mick continued… “Anyway, maybe its time to take a break, after all, it is the Age of Aquarius; rather, it is just the dawning of the age. Let these simple creatures live in peace for a while.”

“Getting too old to strut your stuff on the stage of chaos, Mick?”

“It’s the St. Petersburg syndrome. I see its time for a change. I want to relax for a while. I say, you and me, let’s find that spot around here where we saw the total eclipse back in…” his voice trailed off as he tried to remember the year.

“Nineteen seventy, or thereabouts.” offered Cleopatra.

“Yeh, thereabouts. Let’s take a bottle, wear our bright clothes. Let’s forget all this “practicing the art of deception”. It has gotten old.”

    Mick and Cleopatra sat comfortably aboard the Vision. Having taken a shot of whiskey and puff of cigarette Cleopatra looked at Mick and declared pointedly”I miss the Learjet. It was the only chariot that ever satisfied me.”

With a mischievous smile, confident and narcissistic, Mick replied in a faux tone of ego-damage “I thought I was the only chariot that satisfied you!”

Cleopatra leaned forward. Affectionately touching her forehead to his, she blew smoke into his face.