Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A woman in the coffee shop accosted me today. We’re both regulars. We see each other there, sometimes nodding. I’m always at a table, using a table to write. She’s a few years older than me and typically buys something to eat, checks her phone, and reads a book.
Today, we said hello. I was in the midst of revising a page. She asked, “I notice you always a wear a green hat.”
I do; it’s a Tilly. I nodded.
“Is there a reason for why you wear it?”
Deeply seriously, I replied, “Yes. It has a foil lining built into it.”
Puzzlement folded into her expression. “A foil lining?”
“Yes, you know, to protect me.”
She studied me. I think she was trying to decide if I was joking. Smiling and nodding, I returned to my writing.
Been some months since I’ve had a military dream. I was in the military for twenty-one years, and the military formed my life structure for those years. I first joined in October, 1975, so I shouldn’t be surprised that The Neurons are fostering dreams about that segment of my life.
The dream found me a young man again. I was traveling in my office work blues with my fruit salad on my chest, and going alone. I’d arrived somewhere to make a connection with a civilian airline. I was expected but needed to get to the airline counter to check in, pay for the ticket, receive the ticket and boarding pass, and check my bag.
In a line to enter the terminal with others, I thought I heard my last name called. I looked around at the twenty-something individuals outside doing things. Some seemed to be looking for something but that’s not indicative of anything in an airport. No one called me again. I decided I’d imagined it.
Then I heard it again. Twice. Looking again, I called out, “Did anyone call Seidel?”
People weren’t paying attention. Raising my voice, I repeated my question. Others shook their heads.
By now, the line into the terminal had moved on without me. My flight time was getting disturbing close and I was way behind where I wanted to be.
I heard my name called again. It seemed like it was right behind me.
I whirled. A woman in a marigold shirt was there. I asked, “Did you say something? Are you looking for someone?”
She replied, “I said, ‘sigh’.”
‘Sigh’ sounds just like the first syllable of my last name. “Why did you say that?” I asked her.
She gestured at the scenery beyond the airport. Blue skies, and an ocean vista of whitecaps and splashed sunshine. “Look how beautiful it is. How can I not sigh?”
A young woman exited the building. Walking up to me, she said, “I’ve been calling you.” She handed me my ticket.
I was dumbfounded. “I thought I still had to pay.”
She shook her head while backing away. “It’s already paid for.” Pivoted, she went back into the terminal.
Pleased with that development, I rationalized that I must have been hearing my name on a PA system, although I didn’t see any speakers. No matter; one problem was solved. I just needed to check my bag and head for the gate.
Another woman had set up a taped off area on the land with red masking tape. For some reasons that I don’t understand, I decided that was for getting my baggage ready to be checked.
I went over and spread the bag on the ground and repacked it. The woman came up and asked me what I was doing. Apologetically, I explained. She waved that off and pointed to where I should take my bag.
That’s where the dream ended.
Mood: mellow
Greetings to the first day of October. Sunday finds us awash in blue sky in Ashlandia, where the apples are plentiful and the deer are eating well. We saw twenty-three of them around town yesterday while running errands, usually in small herds of four to six.
It’s a chilly day despite sunshine that stings the eyes with its brilliance. 48 F now, we’re doing 66 F today.
October has special meaning for me. I joined the military in October, 1974. Twenty-one years later, I retired in October. And my wife and I bought this house in October of 2006.
Meanwhile, yesterday’s rain postponed our E.T. showing to this evening. This is the second rescheduling; two weeks ago, the outdoor movie screening was postponed to yesterday because of hazardous air quality due to wildfire smoke.
Keeping this short today, so I’ll just go with the music. The Neurons have sowed the seeds of “Wheel in the Sky”, a 1977 song by Journey. I’ve romantically identified with the song’s idea that everything changes quickly and in surprising ways. As Journey portrays in the song, most of us can be anywhere tomorrow. I was in the military in ’77 and wholly agreed with the idea that I could be anywhere the next day. My Air Force units were usually tagged for mobility. That meant that we could be deployed to elsewhere as needed. Although stability has become my norm in this stage of my civilian life, weather disasters or personal upheaval such as health issues can force a shift with little warning. I’ve seen it happen with friends and family.
Beyond that, I moved numerous times as a child, because my father was in the military. Much of that was overseas for Dad, but Mom and we kids remained stateside. Dad was enlisted and that pay wasn’t much. So Mom drove us to live with relatives in Chicago, Iowa, and Pennsylvania. Then Dad would return and we’d head to Texas, California, Virginia, Ohio. Then I joined the military. For the next twenty-one years, I was assigned across the US and around the world on temporary, special, and permanent assignments. Eventually, I retired in California and moved to Oregon.
Remain positive, be strong, and keep chill. Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll kick off the day. Have a better one. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 