TheBanyanTree: Roll Call Reunion

[Roger Pye]

It was 13th March 1997 when Robin and I got our first 'story' from Spoon 
- boy, what a humdinger it was, straight from someone who over the next 
two-and-a-half years would inspire us, make us laugh and cry by turns. 
As far as I remember my first contribution other than an intro was a 
story about a teddy bear called Oskar. Only I and Robin knew it was the 
first story I had ever written to be deliberately read by other people. 
Since then there have been many tales of a Woodcat and I hope there'll 
be a lot more but it's likely none of it would have happened without the 
encouragement which came from Wes and Youngblood and Julie and so many, 
many more, then and since.

On that far off day it was Stargazer who came into our lives - never, 
really, to leave. In fact if I close my eyes and concentrate I can 
almost hear the big Harley coming down the street:

Date: Thu, 13 Mar 1997 19:08:14 -0600
To: spoon at bluemarble.net
Subject: Spoon: Go Ask Alice
Sender: owner-spoon at shooter.bluemarble.net
Precedence: bulk
X-Mozilla-Status: 0001
Content-Length: 6163

August 1983.  Hurricane Alicia blew through the Gulf Coast of Texas with 
a fury, sporting 140 mph winds when she made landfall in Galveston.  I 
was living in Pasadena at the time, sharing a small bungalow with five cats.

Alice and I were doing a lot of acid in those days. Expanding our minds, 
opening our hearts, searching for our souls.  LSD is not for everyone, 
but for some reason the gods brought it into my life so I used it. I 
don't fool with it any more, lawzie. It served its purpose and then 
moved on down the road. I guess what I'm saying here is that I do not 
condone the use of drugs but in my case they were a big help.

I was at loose ends in August of 1983, having been fired from my job for 
refusing to apply for a security clearance which I didn't need.  The 
weekly stipend I received as unemployment benefits was enough to keep 
the cats and me fed and a roof over our heads.  The gravy train was 
about to derail, though. Unemployment benefits only lasted six months 
and the six months were almost over. So Hurricane Alicia blew through 
town, bringing destruction, devastation, and resulting paid employment 
to a thirty-something soul-searching deadbeat.

Alice found a job rebuilding one of the big condo complexes down on the 
lake. She turned me on to it and I hired in, too. It was nice for a 
change to do something totally foreign to my previous work experience. 
I found great satisfaction in taking my hammer and thrusting the claw 
end through panels of sheetrock, ripping them into rubble; jerking 
carpet up off the floors, throwing away, purging.  It was the same thing 
I needed to do to my soul. Tear out all the ruined vestiges of the past 
and make everything new and shiny again.

I was burned out on offices, on crisp white shirts with dark ties and 
pocket protectors, on telephones, typewriters, on "yes, sir; no, sir; 
how high, sir?" It suited me just fine to pull on my jeans every 
morning, throw my leg over Lockie Louise and hear her roar to life in 
the driveway, feel the wind in my face on the way to the job.

We had a pretty loose working arrangement there at the condominiums. Our 
bosses seemed to be more interested in purchasing new Corvettes than in 
supervising the labor, so we worked at our own pace, doing whatever 
suited us at the moment. There was so much to do. Everywhere we turned 
we were greeted by something that needed rectifying. Overwhelmed by it 
all, at times we roamed in circles, wandering, investigating. It was 
during one of these wanderings that we discovered the coolest condo on 
the property.

Located at the end of one long three-story building, this corner unit 
spanned two floors, the second and third.  Some imaginative doctor and 
his good wife had purchased two condominium units, one over the other, 
and turned them into a single large two-story unit. A massive wooden 
staircase, which had originally been part of a ship, connected the two 
floors. The lakeside walls were glass, floor to ceiling. Standing in the 
living room, Clear Lake and Redfish island stretched invitingly before 
us. It was a grand view.

"Wow!", said Alice.

"Man!", I echoed.

"This is so beautiful!  Can you imagine actually living in a place with 
this kind of view?  My god, it's incredible."  The wistfulness in 
Alice's voice tugged at my heartstrings.

"If I lived here, I would never move from this spot," she said.

"I hear that!"

This magnificent unit had suffered enormous damage in the storm. It was 
completely gutted. There was no sheetrock on the walls, no flooring, no 
appliances, no ceilings except for the main roof two stories above us. A 
giant mirror leaned up against one wall back near the entrance to the 
kitchen. I couldn't imagine why that mirror was there, because the 
interior was in no way ready for any mirrors. It was a long way from 
being livable.

"Wouldn't you love to do a hit of acid in here some night and just sit 
and watch the lights on the lake until the sun rose the next morning?", 
Alice said.

"Gawd, wouldn't that be cool?!?"  I was in total agreement.

"It would be so fine," Alice said.  "Light a few candles, drink a little 
wine, groove to a little music ... throw the glass doors wide open and 
listen to the sound of the waves lapping up against the shore ... feel 
the briny breeze across our faces, hear the seagulls calling to one 
another, wish on every one of the million stars shining down on us 
through these big windows ..."

She captured my imagination. I could see us there, the two of us, 
enjoying all those things together.  I looked at Alice, sitting 
cross-legged on the floor near the big glass doors, rocking to that 
little rhythm of hers that she hears down deep inside somewhere. Her 
body moves in a steady little rock, to and fro, at times so slight that 
it's almost imperceptible.  I'm not even sure she realizes she does it. 
But everything she says, every move she makes, is in time with that 
little rhythm, flowing with its constant motion backward and forward, 
the beat as steady and true as a metronome.

"Let's do it!", I said.

The rocking stopped.  She turned and looked at me.  "You mean it?"

"Damn straight, I mean it.  Why not?  Who's to know?"

"There's nobody living here!"  Her face reflected her delight.

"Perzackly!  There's nobody living here.  The workers will all be gone 
soon.  We could go to my place and drop off the Harley, pick up a few 
supplies and come back to spend the night.  Hell, we won't even have to 
drive to work in the morning!  We'll already be here!"

"Yeah!"  Alice was on her feet.  "Let's do it!"

"is it quitting time yet?", I asked. I didn't have a watch.

"It's close enough!", Alice said, laying down her hammer.

I followed her down the stairs to the parking lot.


       ... to be continued



youngblood

Gloria wrote:
> Yeah, thanks Tom for doing the roll call.  That was fun.  Goin' down
> memory lane.  I agree with everything Pam said, except for the
> gunnymom part.  I'm not one of those.  There's only one of those here
> and I'm so glad she came back!
> 
> Dreamer...still dreamin'
> 
> On 1/14/07, Pam North <pam.north at gmail.com> wrote:
>> Ahhh.... names I recognize and names I don't!  And evidently before 'my
>> time' in the Spoon... but yes Tom, I can sit here and 'feel' myself back
>> then... sitting at the computer - where THAT computer was at THAT 
>> computer
>> desk.... early mornings before the kids woke up... the chats I used to 
>> check
>> on then....
>>
>> Sort of like an old song taking you back.....
>>
>> Pam
>>
>> (gunnymom, back in the day.... and still, to some...)
>>
>>
>> On 1/12/07, Tom Smith <deserthiker2000 at yahoo.com> wrote:
>> >
>> > I went looking for an old Spoon roll call and found what I
>> > think may have been the first.  It was like opening a time
>> > capsule, going to a high school reunion and looking through
>> > the yearbook.  It felt like many more years than 10 had
>> > passed.   What a snapshot of youngblood, for those of you
>> > who have only heard about her..
>> >
>