Sweet Baby Genome

Only minutes before the whole thing began, I was seated at an inside table near the windows but not too near the cafe door. I was wearing a mood that might have posed a danger to passersby had I been seated at a sidewalk table.

There. The opening--the one you just read--is a gag that I've revised more than once in an attempt to improve the cadence and rhythm, two things I think are crucial when telling a story of any kind.

I think it's something common to writers in general. For example, James Taylor, the wonderful songwriter and musician, once wrote a verse or two of a song that was playing around in his head.

The song began, "There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range. His horse and his cattle are his only companions.

He works in the saddle and sleeps in the canyons.
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change."

Those words have perfect cadence and rhythm, in my opinion. Taylor added five more lines to finish the verse, and then he was stumped. He didn't know where to go with it. So he put it away for later--maybe. Just like I put the opening words of this post away until I can find that perfect phrasing.

Here's another personal experience that I've wanted to write about for years but haven't yet found the flow that I like. It goes like this.

One morning, while working on-site, I happened to walk by an open office door where a young woman was seated at her desk, staring at a computer. She happened to glance my way as I happened to glance hers. Well, you know how it is, one can't share a glance and not say something.

"OMG!" I said. "I love purple!" It wasn't that I was at a loss for anything better to say. It was just that her office was decorated in a disquieting array of purple. It delivered quite a shock so early in the day.

"You do?" she said in a tone that reeked of doubt.

"Yes," I said, "my favorite color." Take that, I thought, slightly offended that she seemed to question my honesty.

"Since when?" she said.

I don't know about you, but I think that's funny and should be an introduction to an entertaining piece of work. But, I swear, I don't know what to do with it. In fact, I revised it once more while you were reading it just now. 

According to my sources, Mr. Taylor also had the recurring experience and came up with yet another bit of song lyrics that began like this:

"Now, the first of December was covered with snow. So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston. The Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frosting with ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go."

And he didn't know what to do with that verse either. Eventually, he remembered that other half song that he'd put away somewhere, and he dug out the lyrics about the cowboy. He wrote a refrain to glue the two verses together, and that merger became one of his signature compositions--"Sweet Baby James."

James Taylor is one of my all-time favorite singer/songwriters, and if he can do it, then it's OK for me. So, without further introduction, I offer the following paragraph to complete this blog post, which I hope will be as well received as the one titled "Coastal Camelot."

The experience of discovering that the lock on a public restroom door is broken differs wildly depending on which side of the door you're on when you make the discovery.

And there you have it. That completes my "Sweet Baby Genome." Thank you for taking the time to read it. See you again soon.

The Visitation

I woke in the middle of a dream about Uma lounging in her favorite hideaway--the blue box with the half-moon doorway that stays in Ms. Wonder's upstairs sanctum. 

Uma & Me

The dream was not so much a story as it was an image of Uma in the box looking at me in a serene way that seemed to say, "Don't fret, food guy. I'm with you and I'll always be with you."

It felt like a visitation rather than a dream.

When I woke, the song playing in my head was Total Eclipse of the Heart. I only mention it because the significance of the song was a mystery to me. Sure, the dream was bittersweet but not a total eclipse by any stretch. Are you as frustrated as I am by these mixed messages the Universe seems to favor?

After some deliberation, I decided to stay up even though it was so early that it didn't qualify, in my way of thinking, to actually be morning. Didn't feel like the beginning of the day but rather the middle of the night.

I walked into the kitchen weighing the consequences of making coffee and staying awake. I pulled back the curtains to look out onto the lanai. It was all darkness in the backyard, except for one lone solar light burning in the garden.

Curious, I thought, why only one? Why aren't the others shining? I walked out into the garden and touched the light with my toe to align it with the garden border. The light went out the instant I touched it.

Coincidence? Probably, and yet, such coincidences occur far too often in my life to suit me. I walked back into the kitchen thinking, What the hell, Louis?

I made coffee and took it to the lanai, where I sat and began recording bird calls in the Merlin app. I decided to accept the gift of early morning, which I don't often take advantage of--normally opting to get in the eight hours instead.

Ms. Wonder will be awake at dawn I thought. She'll have a few excellent suggestions for celebrating the rest of the day. But then I remembered that Wonder and her Wonder friend were on Oak Island, climbing the stairs to the top of the lighthouse. I don't know why they indulge in these excesses; because they can maybe?

And so I devised a plan intended to keep me away from the eclipse of the heart and perhaps rachet up the mood a notch or two. My plan was to simply enjoy being alive for the rest of the morning. I thought of journaling in The Circular Journey and that led me to this post.

By half past nine, it was clear that journaling would be nothing but a series of fits and starts. Not what I was hoping for. My mood was not going to allow me to bypass my eclipsed heart. But not to worry. I had plan number two. I cranked the starter on Wynd Horse and headed her toward the Memorial Bridge. In minutes I was turning onto Castle Street.

Feathery clouds had sneaked into the sky while I wasn't looking, and the wind had picked up since I left Waterford. Leaves rattled as they crab-walked across Castle Street and bits of airborne detritus blew about above the sidewalks. I thought if I drove slow enough I might see Piglet fly by.

No familiar faces greeted me as I ordered and took a seat by the windows but not too near the door. The coffee was superb, the music was happy, and the Princess was at peace. Considering my early rise, I suspected Amy to have fallen back asleep.

As I sipped Jah's Mercy and contemplated the easy morning coming down, I remembered the most important lesson Uma taught me:

Every day is a gift and a reason to celebrate life. ~~ Uma Maya

I smiled. My heart felt lighter. The gift of today, at this very moment, in this very place, is a protected garden, a perfect paradise, a heaven on earth, and I have all the reason I need to celebrate.

Thank you, Uma!