Newest Listing in Wythe Trace

I’m beginning to think that the housing market is getting out of hand…

NEW LISTING in fashionable Wythe Trace. $349,000.

Cash offers only.

Inspection waived.

Buyer pays all closing costs.

Title doesn’t necessarily convey.

Great curb appeal.

Did It.

This morning I read the last chapters of Revelation, completing the 90 day reading plan. There was a much more efficient and tech-savvy way to keep record of my progress of course, but I am irredeemably old school in this regard, preferring as I do the one page tally sheet where I can highlight each day’s reading with a yellow marker. Most days I read, but occasionally I took advantage of the audiobook app on my cellphone. I started out using The Message version of scripture and indeed used it more than any other over the 90 days, but whenever certain books like Psalms came up, I reverted back to the King James because of the beauty and familiarity of the language.

What did I learn? Many things, actually. Most I already knew but needed a reminding. Some things I had never noticed before in previous readings. Some of what I read was disturbing, uncomfortable words to hear in the 21st century. I read things that were profoundly beautiful and soothing, other things that felt like a rebuke. The one thing that strikes you about the Bible is how vulnerable are the heroes. All of the saints and mighty characters of the Old and New Testament are presented in all of their flawed humanity. King David’s bravery and love for God is clearly conveyed, right along side his adultery, murder and cowardly treachery. Moses and Abraham were presented as the powerful men of faith that they were, but we were also told of their missteps, their lying and disobedience. In Jesus’ disciples we see men who were painfully dim-witted, often petty, and nearly universally uneducated, making their heroic deeds post-resurrection seem like maybe the most miraculous thing in all of scripture. In other words, the entirety of scripture seems brutally honest in the extreme. Lest we be tempted to venerate someone, we are told of their worst possible moment, cutting them down to size. This feature of the Bible is encouraging to me and always has been. Perfection of character is not a requirement for approaching God. Good thing.

There are plenty of themes that run throughout all 66 books. Here are just a few I picked up:

- God hates the prideful

- God has a heart for the sick, widows, orphans and the poor and expects us to look after them

- The Law was designed as a guide for human flourishing, keeping the Ten Commandments are still the best way to avoid poverty and human suffering.

- Anything God creates, human beings ultimately screw up.

- No matter how much we screw up, God has bottomless reservoirs of compassion.

- Forgiveness is the most vital ingredient for human happiness and the most difficult to both give and receive.

- The concept of grace is perhaps the most beautiful thing in all of creation.

- There’s a lot of messed up stuff in the Bible…human beings are nuts!

Yes, there are many more themes in the Bible and many of them are of far greater theological importance than these I have listed, but these are the ones that jumped out to me…this time.

What I’ve Been Up To

I haven’t been posting as often as normal here at The Tempest of late. Its not because I have had nothing to say. There have been many things happening in the world that I could easily have written about. The problem has been that for the past six weeks or so I have been hard at work on my latest novel, one that I started writing almost two years ago, then went dark on for several months, and now have suddenly been churning out chapter after chapter. Back at the end of January, when I was in the fourth month of having written nothing, I decided to publish the first chapter of it here…

https://doug-thetempest.blogspot.com/2022/01/daniel-sebastian-fitzgeralds-life-had.html

Soon afterwards, the floodgates opened and I’ve been busy on it ever since. However, the story’s tone has changed sharply from that opening chapter. I started out writing a somewhat light-hearted story with comic themes, but somewhere down the line the plot got much more serious, so much so that now that opening chapter seems out of tune with what has followed. But, if I’ve learned anything about writing fiction over the years its that you have to go where the characters take you. Who knows, before I’m through they may take me back to the comic themes I started with…or not. I’m still nowhere near finished and at this point—30 chapters in—I still don’t know how it will end. Here’s what I do know..its been great fun.

Now, I suppose its time for another tease…this time Chapter 13. Since it has not been edited or properly proofed, I apologize for any typos, misspellings or dangling modifiers.

13. Breakfast

 The call had been brief, pleasant but perfunctory. “Let’s have brunch at the Phoenix,” Felicia had said. “I’m worried about you.” Kate had accepted partly because she could find no justifiable reason to decline an invitation from a friend who had also been caught flat footed by Danny’s disappearance, but mostly because she hoped to be enlivened by the presence of this particular friend, the one with all the vigor and life. But as she pulled into the parking lot and recognized several of the cars, she questioned her decision. She wasn’t anxious to be on the receiving end of the curious glances, of everyone who had heard all the gossip, each with their own version of the story. The most sinister of them would be delighted to stop by the table to offer their heartfelt concern about all that Kate must be going through face to face. Felicia’s presence would keep the table visits to a minimum. It was convenient, on occasions like this to have an intimidating friend.

Kate saw Felicia from across the large dining room. She glanced down at her watch and noticed that she was ten minutes early. Odd that Felicia would already have been seated. Felicia noticed Kate at the front desk, smiled and lifted her hand in a beauty pageant wave. Felicia stood as Kate approached and gave her a brief hug and whispered, “Thank you so much for coming” into her ear.

The waitress poured black coffee in delicate china cups and placed two leather menus on the end of the table, then retreated leaving them staring at each other, neither knowing how to begin. Finally Felicia began with, “So, Danny called Harry last night. I take it that he also called you. Have you heard anything else from him?”

Kate was surprised by her tone. This was not the Felicia Monk that she knew. There was no lightness, no mischievous grin. She was tense. Serious. Kate hesitated, bought some time by pouring cream into her coffee, watching the bronze gold swirls in the cup. “Yes. He called. He’s coming back home in a few days.”

“A few days?” Felicia seemed suddenly rattled. “It was Harry’s understanding that he would be returning right away.”

The waitress returned and relieved Kate of the burden of having to respond.

“Have you ladies decided on anything?”

Felicia seemed agitated by the interruption and quickly took it upon herself to order for the both of them. “We will both have the eggs Benedict with the melon tray and blueberry scones...unless you want something else, love?” Kate shook her head, grateful for not having had to make a decision. As soon as the waitress took the first step away Felicia began. “Kate, I’m worried about Danny. Something isn’t right. Nothing about him has been right for some time...”

Kate stiffened and found her voice, “You’re worried about Danny? Don’t you mean Harry is worried.”

Felicia, again tense and defensive, “We both are worried, if you must know. But no more than you, I assume.”

Kate took a sip of her coffee. She had known Felicia for many years now. They were people who probably would not have chosen each other as friends. They had been forced together by circumstantial events, yet they had worked well together. But theirs was a friendship with shallow roots, one that had never been tested, never having to endure many dark clouds largely as a result of the raging success of their husband’s collaboration. But now the blue skies were gone. They found themselves sitting across the table from each other at an establishment which had always held great charm for their relationship, but now suddenly felt unfamiliar.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of any of this at the moment, Felicia. I listen to him speak and none of it sounds like my husband. I watch him, even the way he carries himself seems...foreign, like I know its him but there’s a seed of doubt. I mean...he was in Mississippi...” the word trailed off unanswered, unanswerable. 

“He needs help, Kate. Professional help.” Felicia extended a hand across the table and gave Kate’s a tender squeeze. “We should have known earlier what with that horrible fight he got into and then...promoting Wayne like that. He’s clearly not thinking right.” 

Kate felt herself bristle at the questioning of Danny’s business decisions but as soon as she thought of a defense, the waitress appeared with a tall skinny man in a dark suit holding their meal aloft and placing it down in front of them one delicate piece at a time. The mustard yellow sauce of the Eggs Benedict running in four rivers down each side of the muffin and ham looked especially small on the large gilded plate. The blueberry scone was glazed with sugar crystals and came with an embroidered napkin draped over the edge of the plate, the melons cut in thin slivers fanned out in the muted colors of out of season tropical fruit. What little appetite either of them had, disappeared with the perfectly set table.

                                                        ###

A bell tingled overhead as Danny entered the mostly empty diner. A heavy set middle aged women, behind what looked like a piece of furniture that might have been a pulpit in a previous life, looked up from her magazine long enough to say, “Sit anywhere you like.” 

Danny looked over the place and wondered where all the Chevy, Ford and Dodge pickup truck owners were. There were empty booths everywhere and only a few tables with paying customers. In the middle of this forlorn enterprise was a long counter  which ran almost the entire length of the dining room. Behind the counter was a waitress and a very large man with enormous forearms wearing a white apron. Danny asked the hostess, “May I sit at the counter?”

“Anywhere you like includes the counter...wait a sec, hon, Billy...does anywhere you like include the counter today?”

The man with the Popeye forearms answered without looking up from his work, “Let me see now...today Saturday?”

“Last I checked...”

“Then the counter is wide open.”

Danny took a seat near the middle where the big man was laboring over a skillet, running a wet sponge over it as steam rose up into his face. The waitress handed him a plastic menu that felt slightly wet to the touch. Danny could feel the cold air from an air conditioning vent overhead, which combined with the heat and steam from the skillet made it feel simultaneously chilly and humid.

“Coffee?”, the waitress said after she had already filled a thick brown mug. “There’s cream and sugar by the napkins.” Then she flitted around Billy and disappeared behind a pair of swinging doors. Danny glanced at his watch. 10:00 AM. He couldn’t resist engaging Billy in conversation, “Your parking lot is nearly full. Where is everybody?”

“You shoulda been in here 4 hours ago. Place was packed. But its Saturday. They all come here for breakfast then leave in two or three vans heading up to Oxford.”

“What’s in Oxford?” As soon as the question had escaped his lips Danny knew he had probably stepped in it. Could he look or sound any more like a stranger?

“I don’t suppose you’re from Missipi...”

“Wait, I know this one. Its football and its either Mississippi State or Ole Miss, right?”

The waitress was back and laughed out loud, “Lawdy, don’t say that too loud around here, Mister. It wouldn’t be good for your health! Around here the correct answer is always Ole Miss. So, what can I get ya?”

Danny smiled and answered, “Speaking of things that aren’t good for my health, how about three eggs over hard with three pieces of bacon?” Danny noticed her name tag for the first time...Darlene.

“You want the three peep then.”

“Excuse me?”

“The three peep.” Darlene smiled back. “Its right there on the menu, center column half way down...Three Peep.”

Danny found it. The Three Peep was in fact three eggs any style, three pieces of bacon, or three sausage patties and three pieces of wheat, white or rye toast for $6.99.

Darlene was now leaning on the counter, “You know how when your favorite football team wins a championship then everybody wants them to repeat? Then if they do that, they want them to do it again and if they do they call that a three-peat? And you know that cute little sound that baby chicks make...peep, peep?”

“ A Three Peep. It’s perfect. Then I’ll take bacon and rye toast.”

Danny took a sip of coffee and watched Billy go to work. With his left hand he grabbed three large brown eggs out of a clear plastic container, tapped each with the edge of the spatula he held in his right hand. With an almost indiscernible twitch of his fingers each egg was cracked open, deposited on the skillet and the cracked shells tossed expertly into a hole in the skillet in the back corner, all in one mystifying, one-handed motion. With his empty left hand he picked up two metal salt and pepper shakers, misshapen by use, and deftly covered the now bubbling eggs. Then he opened a small refrigerator box beneath the counter and peeled off three thick slices of bacon from a slab covered in wax paper. They made a sizzling sound when he slapped them next to the eggs on the skillet. The smell was heavenly. Danny watched in fascinated admiration for a while longer before saying, “Looks like you’ve done that a few times.”

“Damn near every day for twenty five years,” Billy replied as he flipped the eggs over with his wooden handled 18 inch spatula which looked as old and weather beaten as Billy.

“That long? That’s amazing.”

“It’s either amazing or its all I’m good at doing, one of the two.”

Danny smiled as Billy dropped rye bread into a toaster. “Well, everybody needs to be good at something, I suppose.”

Billy turned from his work and looked at Danny for the first time. He was wearing thick glasses covered in grease. “So, what are you good at?”

Danny was stunned at the sight of him, but equally thrown off balance by the question. He momentarily thought of saying that he ran an advertising business but that wasn’t really an answer to the question. Instead, he froze a tick too long staring at the man with the coke bottle glasses. Billy threw him a lifeline, “Don’t worry about these glasses. They’re just for show. I can’t see a damn thing with or without them.”

“Then how do you cook?”

“Sense of smell, my friend...and 25 years worth of muscle memory.”

Billy had turned back to his work and busied himself with removing the bread from the toaster, lathering the toast with butter, then flipping the bacon. He reached to a shelf above him and retrieved a thick white oval plate, sat it directly on the skillet and placed three fried eggs, three pieces of bacon, fanned out the toast on the edge of the plate, then wheeled around and placed it perfectly centered in front of Danny, right between the knife and fork on the napkin at his left hand and the spoon at his right. Danny was amazed but decided on silence for the first time in weeks. As he took his first bite of egg, the hostess appeared at his side and in a half whisper said, “Don’t fall for that horse-shit. Billy can see plenty good enough when a cute little skirt walks in here. He could see a lot better if he’d clean those glasses once in a while.”

Billy laughed, “I heard that!”

Then Darlene raced by and added, “Ever notice how every pay day he acts like he’s blind as a bat. Claims he can hardly see where to sign!”

Billy laughed again, louder this time. “Some days are better than others when you’re damn near legally blind”

As Danny ate his breakfast the back and forth continued. It was easily the most delicious bacon and eggs he had ever had. The eggs were crispy around the edges. The bacon thick and crunchy, tinged with the flavor of maple syrup. But as he ate and listened he continued to be haunted by the question...what are you good at? The answer lay somewhere between, “I’m good at advertising” and “I’m nowhere near as good at anything as you are at making bacon and eggs.” 

Danny placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter, thanked everyone for the delicious breakfast then found his rental car in the parking lot. He looked back at the diner and felt a cold sliver of darkness pass through him.

What a Day!

What a day this is going to be! Its baseball’s Opening Day, and the first round of the Masters.

First, baseball.

There are two teams for all of us to hate, the Yankees and the Dodgers and largely for the same reason—huge market, bloated payroll, and lineups of the biggest stars money can buy. At the other end of the spectrum you have my Washington Nationals who traded away their best pitcher and second best position player last year for prospects. Our lineup this year features Juan Soto, the best hitter in baseball, and a collection of has-beens and never was’. Nevertheless, on April 7th everyone is in first place. Maybe all the stars will be aligned, maybe Strasberg comes back better than ever. Maybe Patrick Corbin can throw strikes. Maybe Nelson Cruz becomes the first player in baseball history to hit 40 home runs after becoming eligible for Social Security. Maybe Victor Robles learns how to hit. If not, it will be fun watching Juan Soto walk 175 times.

Now, The Masters.

The 2022 version is all about Tiger Woods and frankly, it should be. The fact that he is even playing at all is a miracle. The idea that after nearly losing his leg 17 months ago, the dude thinks not only that he can compete, but that he can walk Augusta National is beyond my comprehension. I have walked that course as a spectator and it wore me out. I was sore for two days! Its easily the hilliest golf course I have ever seen. But this is Tiger Woods we’re talking about. What do I think will happen? I don’t think he will make the cut. What will happen? I would put absolutely nothing past him, but I will say that if Tiger Woods wins the Masters, it will be the most miraculous athletic accomplishment in the history of sport. If he even makes the cut, the debate over who is the best golfer of all time will be over for me. Will I be watching on Sunday if Tiger is in contention? Are you kidding? Me and 100 million other people around the world!

Other agenda items for Thursday, April 7, Day five of the week of my birthday.

A workout featuring sit-ups, pushups and various exercises with 15 pound dumbbells. A 3 mile run. A writing session for the novel I’m working on. Paying April’s first half bills. A full house vacuuming session.

…life on the razor’s edge.

Birthday Thoughts

My 64th birthday is now in the books. I spent it with my wife and daughter down in Columbia, South Carolina. Spending time with my adult children is a rarity at this point in our lives, so it was a special time. Kaitlin knows her father quite well, as was evident when I opened my present from her…

Just in case you are unable to read the fine print, this is a collection of exotic meats jerky, everything from alligator to camel and come with Buffalo Bob’s Big Game freshness guarantee. The collection comes complete with four hot snacks, elk smothered in jalapeño pepper sauce, and a special Cajun spiced alligator stick. This box of delicacies will give me literally weeks of taste bud thrills as I count down the days until Maine. Plus, I can mail in the logo from the front of the box back to Buffalo Bob and get a free 25 count bottle of Pepcid! As an added bonus, these jerky strips have so many preservatives, the box says, “consume by August of 3022.”

The rest of the week of my birthday will be spent in leisurely pursuits as I use the week to get away from the pressures of my profession. I will play some golf, do some writing, and putz around in my yard getting it ready for summer.

Like many people my age I am finding that each year I enjoy my birthday less and less. Somewhere along the line I discovered that I wasn’t a huge fan of being reminded of my age. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not one of those guys who constantly wishes he could turn back time and be young again. Absolutely not! I can’t think of anything worse than being asked to live again as a 30 year old. No thanks. Those were terribly difficult years. Paying the bills every month was a stomach-churning high wire act. No, I have no desire to endure the hours I put in working in my 30’s. My problem with birthdays now is the conflict I feel between gratitude for life’s many blessings and the sometimes agonizing feeling that I am running out of time.

I have enjoyed my share of success in this life. I have an amazing family and wonderful friends. When I took a moment yesterday to read through all the birthday wishes on Facebook it was a reminder of how many terrific people I have had the good fortune to meet during my life. But every year as April 3 approaches, I begin to feel a gnawing discomfort. It’s hard to describe accurately, partly because I’m not even sure what it is myself. What it boils down to is the feeling that I haven’t done that one big thing yet…something great. Sure, I married the right woman, brought two amazing people into this world, both could reasonably be described as great accomplishments. But, I can’t shake the thought that it isn’t enough. There has to be something else that I need to do. If there is, then at 64…I am running out of time to do whatever it is that lives nameless and rent free in my head.

But, until I figure it all out, I have a box of exotic dried meat From Buffalo Bob to distract me.

Our Spring Break Plans

So, this morning Pam and I are heading down to visit our daughter in South Carolina. Her husband is out of town and she is by herself and since this circumstance coincides with her mother’s Spring Break she naturally thought that the ideal Spring Break for Pam would be coming down to Columbia and waiting on her hand and foot. To remind me of what we are in for, late last night she sent me some screenshots of one of our text conversations from several years ago. Her comments are in the dark gray, my dumbfounded responses are in the light gray…

….fathers and daughters.

Thrilled!!

In the eleven year history of this blog, I don’t believe I have ever been as thrilled about any news story as I am about the colossal ass-whipping that Ukraine is administering to their Russian invaders. Seriously, every morning when I read about the latest heroic stand and see pictures of mangled and smoking Russian tanks I am nearly overcome with what I can only describe as joy. This is nothing less than the most shocking David and Goliath story since…well, David and Goliath. And now comes word that the Ukrainian army has taken the fight into Russian territory by blowing up a huge ammo dump. I nearly cried at this news this morning at 4:30.

Look, I know I shouldn’t feel this way. My Christian faith informs me that I should never rejoice in death and destruction. It is not charitable to react with unrestrained glee at the deaths of young men, all of whom have mothers who love them as much as I love my own kids. But, if I’m honest, there is a part of my heart and soul which hungers for justice. Its the same feeling that overcomes me when I hear of a guilty verdict for someone who victimized the weak, someone who preyed on the elderly or the infirm. It’s righteous vindication.

I watched for months the accumulation of Russian arms and men on Ukraine’s border. The numbers were scary, the Ukrainians would be so overmatched, like the pitiful Polish Cavalry on horseback trying to fight back against Nazi tanks during Blitzkrieg in 1939. But, ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you that these Ukrainians aren’t the Poles of 1939. They aren’t the French of 1940. These people are the Brits during the Battle of Britain…overwhelmed, outnumbered and surrounded, and defiantly pushing back against the most egregious land grab of my lifetime. It’s the most inspiring thing I’ve witnessed since the birth of my children.

And yes…I’m thrilled.