Steves Altered Reality

My best friend has a wooden leg and a real foot. He’s an AM radio radio Dee Jay in New York city, whenever he drives through a tunnel, you can’t hear him talk.

 The participant’s perspectives are clouded, while

 The bystander’s views are clear

 Chinese proverb

Seattle, Washington 12-24-2015

It’s Christmas Eve, not that it matters much anymore, the thermometer reads minus119 degrees but if feels every bit minus like 120, not very funny. It’s getting harder to find things that will burn in the stove. The gale seems to be get stronger every night after the sun goes down. I’ve kept a daily journal since the end of this world as it was known with the hope that if someone has survived, they might know what happened here. Why was I spared? It’s been a very lonely existence, my wife and child are dead and nearest I can tell, every other human is gone, I’ve listened to the short wave day after day hoping to hear a voice, a sign of life, anything. There are no more clouds or rain, all the water is gone, the oceans are dry and the sun seems to get closer every day. It’s 140 plus degrees mid day and minus 125 and dropping at night. The Radiation has long killed the plant and animal life and left me now, weaker by the hour. I’m guessing that the explosions have affected the earth’s rotation. Anyway, this will most likely be my last entry…… God help us, as I pray for any unfortunate living and damn the unholy dead.
Alex Brian Reese
Seattle, Washington, 08-23-2014 7:35 AM

Alex made his way past the market. Vendors and delivery people were manically bringing the crusty old tourist attraction to life for the maybe the millionth time. He watched as a barge lumbered miles in the distance as the fog slowly burned off the gray hazy water by the pier he was passing. He had longed to be able to walk the few blocks from his home for what seemed like weeks but the constant barrage of rain was not conducive to foot travel. But today was different, what a glorious day it was, between the distinctive tepid, salty breeze coming from the Sound, sea gulls circling the water hunting food and the promise of more perfect days like this one, life didn’t get any better. Alex thought about his wife and new baby, and wondered just how many people really get a second chance to be this happy. Alex remembered why he was now, a permanent transplant from the Midwest, and how a three thousand mile change of scenery had been his salvation. Ohio, what the hell was I thinking, he mused. Oh yea, my parents had moved there when I was a baby, not my fault, as he smiled to himself. Within blocks of his office, he started a mental inventory of stories he had in the queue, one in particular had become increasingly unsettling to the point it was invading his sleep. He hated the idea that this perfect day would be as filled with stories dealing with the worst side of mankind. He did a mental recap of his reoccurring daily journalistic battles. Civil war was imminent, not just in the states but worldwide. The extreme religious right of every sect and belief, and the radical pro choice people’s army had all mobilized. Battle lines had been drawn but other than minor skirmishes and flashing of feathers no one had really fired the first shot across the bow. The earth was now controlled by the NWU, the New World Union. It had been formed primarily to bring the increasingly warring factions split by religious beliefs, culture and law, to the negotiating table. The NWU had managed to incorporate almost every major and many minor world powers with the exception of Israel. Israel was, and had been, the scape goat of the Middle East; if there was abuse to be meted out it always seemed to come their way. Other than the United States they had been very cautious with whom they aligned themselves with and now, the United States had a different agenda. Israel, under intense threat of world retribution had chosen to deal with their problems alone.

One child per household unilaterally, was the New World Union’s first order of business. This law would affect the entire planet, with no exceptions, bar those in power and those with money and influence, which was becoming an extremely small club, twelve to be exact. A by product of the NWU’s infinite wisdom was a far reaching worldwide policing enforcement unit called the PZC, The Planned Zero Corporation, who’s original reason for existence was arranging the disposal of the potential offspring and punish by threat of death, the offending parents. But they had become so efficient, that they had taken on virtually all global enforcement duties. In reality the New World Union had only served to unite the traditionally opposed religions and peoples to mount a unified front and engage the new world government to the point of “world civil war”. What could he say that hadn’t been said about it, it’s just a matter of time. Maybe it was time for a new vocation, the problem being, reporting was all he knew, he had been writing about something from the first time he had picked up a crayon. And now, as a seasoned reporter it took on a whole new meaning, it paid the rent and in some strange capacity, made him feel like he was making a difference.

GEORGE W. BUSH BUILDING 7:55

His office was a tall bronze tinted glass tower, he had never been to the top, the elevator control pad went to sixteen, he knew there was a seventeenth floor because he always looked to see if there was anyone looking over the penthouse veranda, as he approached the entrance each day. His building housed a very eclectic group of tenants from high priced attorney’s and commercial real estate brokers to artists, Halliburton world oil, a recording studio to a large medical office of which had been the center of controversy by being picketed daily 24 by hundreds of right to lifers from the largest fundamentalist church in the world. He had done many stories on this church which was growing at an alarming rate and had become steadily more aggressive in their techniques to circumvent roe verses wade from outside the legal system. Even though it was never proven, two of the church elders had been accused of brutally murdering three of their Doctors over a two year period. As Alex approached the rust colored granite facade and brass framed door he greeted the two heavily armed policemen that stood guard on either side of the door, he never quite understood why the police needed machine guns to baby sit an office building. Good morning gentlemen he blurted, good morning Alex each smiled and retorted. He reached for the door but stopped cold in his tracks………. something was wrong…… something was missing…… he turned and scanned the shining building bottom to top, he glanced through the glass window, he looked out to the sidewalk……….no picketers, hell, they hadn’t missed a day in two and a half years. what gives he thought, he walked out toward the street to see if maybe they were having one of their many daily prayer meetings, are they hiding?…. Might be hard to hide several hundred people on a busy main street. In fact they had caused so much congestion over the years the city had re routed traffic, installed new lights, speed bumps, and assigned extra police for crowd control. No they didn’t show up today, that’s a huge story in itself Alex thought. He noticed how hot the sun had become; it would be too much in an hour or so for scaling his cities forty five degree streets. He turned and started his short stroll inside.

8:00 AM

The blast took the top floor from the office building sending glass, brick, fire and smoke a hundreds of feet in the air, people were screaming and running hysterically in horror and pain, bodies blood and parts were everywhere, cars were on fire from the falling debris setting off collateral explosions all around the perimeter. Most of the people running out of the building were on fire and tearing at their clothes. The building imploded in a second blast from deep inside. The structure collapsed into itself in a fiery combination of searing heat and rubble. The blast blew Alex back twenty feet never touching the ground. He landed in a pile on top a black sedan that was riddled with various sizes of rock, glass and glowing ash. His face burned from the molten flash, where there had been a full beard was now smoldering stubble his clothes were cut and tattered. Small and large cuts started producing slow streams of blood on his body. He slid off of the car and when he tried to walk discovered an eight inch shard of triangular glass protruding from his leg, he quickly stripped his belt and wrapped it around his upper leg and gritted his teeth as he, in one swift movement, removed the projectile slicing a deep gash in his hand, in the process. Alex collapsed against the car door, his feet angled toward each other on the debris strewn pavement, he tried to catch his breath but his lungs wouldn’t co-operate. What the hell just happened, it’s a dream, he thought. Alex looked up at the opaque, threatening abyss; black and red glowing spots, floating from the sky like a snowfall in hell he imagined, and then he lost consciousness.

                                                                   The Hospital

The beep of the heart monitor started as a whisper and turned into a scream as Alex fought to wake up. He knew where he was from the sterile scent, even before opening his twitching swollen eyes. Those fucking lights, turn them off God damn it he mumbled. Alex cracked one eye and attempted to focus, he looked up and, standing beside the bed, God, that is the biggest, ugliest nurse I’ve ever seen, maybe I’m dead he thought, no, he’d seen paintings of hell and no body looked like that. Can you open your eyes Mr. Reese? Can you leave me alone he retorted? No Mr. Reese you’re pretty banged up but you will live and this gentleman here needs some information from you. He considered his options, I can’t move, no, I’m a captive audience; ok…… what do you want? As he attempted to sit up and see who he was talking to in the same action. Just relax she said as she worked the bed control and adjusted the back forward and arranged the IVs, cords and pillow. He grimaced in pain but gallantly fought gravity. As things got clearer he noticed the man standing somewhat to the left of the nurse towards the back of the room, not a doctor he thought. Black Armani suit, wrap arounds in his front pocket; I guess he could be a doctor. Are you comfortable Mr. Reese? Said the nurse. Call me Alex, please, and my name is Dorothy she responded. Do you need anything? I’m OK, what happened? I only know that someone set off bombs all over the city. You were one of the lucky ones. This is the only hospital in Seattle still standing, the Red Cross is sending aid from all over the country. The building you worked at is no longer there. As Alex tried to digest what he had just heard the man in the suit moved closer, moving the nurse to the side gently with his right arm on her shoulder and quietly requesting she leave the room. No problem, just buzz me if you need anything Mr. Reese. The man moved to the side of the bed, Alex hadn’t realized how tall and intimidating the man was, he looked every bit of six foot six and very easily could have been a Nazi Waffen officer seventy five odd years earlier. My name is Lawrence Jacobs; I’m with Planned Zero Corporation, as he unfolded his badge holder. He softly but sternly demanded, tell me everything you know about what you’ve seen today? Alex thought, I’m lying here, half fucking dead, and this suit wants to interrogate me about things he probably already knows. The fucking building blew up he croaked, now Get the hell out of here Mr. Jacobs, I don’t know anymore than you do. You would be best served to cooperate with us in this matter. Leave, now, Alex reiterated. Mr. Jacobs, visibly not pleased with Alex’s reaction decided to cut his losses for now and left Alex with a firm, we’ll be in contact, there would be plenty of time latter. As Jacobs turned and was walking through the frame of the door, Alex gave him the one finger salute off his forehead, Spooks he thought, and then it hit  him, my wife……. where’s my wife.

The City

The city took a major hit, St. Helens had been a minor inconvenience compared to this devastation. Virtually every building over three stories was leveled, the sound of ambulances, helicopters and emergency alert sirens cut through the air with a vengeance. The air was rich with smells and particles which gave it a surreal quality. Colors were different, the grass was black, the sky was red, many of the survivors, pale from shock.

Field hospitals were being set up mid city and in the suburbs. Hospital ships were en route. Temporary morgues were filled to capacity and being set up one after another. The death toll was so great that mass burning was being considered. The heat would not be an ally today. Communication was spotty as many of the cities cell towers had been targeted. The phone lines were jammed.

It was a strange dichotomy, the city was for all reason, mortally wounded, but in reality had never been more alive.

As evening became apparent the looters appeared en mass along with the national police, lighting was spotty as generators were in short supply and the power grid was all but down. As the sun disappeared the relentless sounds of the day were joined by gunfire and smaller isolated explosions. The confusion intensified with the added danger of hungry, thirsty people seeking anything someone else had. Homes with power, left the lights off, pulled the shades, locked the doors and loaded their weapons. The president had declared Marshal law. Orders of shoot to kill had been issued with past disasters, but what made this unique was the shear magnitude of the devastation and the massive numbers of armed marauding citizens looking for food.

THE DRAGON

The Dragon had lived thousands of lifetimes. He had been a student, a teacher, a collector and above all a fighter. He was now, the master. The dragon had studied every military strategist, anarchist and would be world conqueror from the beginning of time. He was there the first time man picked up a stick and attacked his neighbor. And The Dragon was an observer, he had seen many things. He had watched the fish crawl from the oceans and inhabit the land; he watched a single man and woman populate most every corner of the earth. He observed and learned as man experimented with and attempted to control his environment. Fire was a favorite human discovery for him, it was so cleansing. The Dragon paid close attention to the conquerors, the monsters and innovators. The Dragon had ridden with Genghis Kan, studied his battle strategies and was constantly amazed by his cunning. When approaching Volottoil, Khan convinced the opposing commander that if he sent one thousand cats and several thousand swallows, he would spare the city. When the animals were delivered; the Mongol’s tied small pieces of cloth to their tails and lit them on fire. The animals fled back to the city, where they set off hundreds of fires, Khan round up and killed over 70 thousand men, women and children. There were so many fine examples through the ages, a textbook of brutality pain and suffering. He was there with Emilio Mola during the Spanish Nationalist campaign against Franco during the Spanish civil war. As four columns of Mola troops approached Madrid for a final stand off, Mola was asked which column would take the city, he replied “The Fifth Column”. The spies imbedded within the city, a lesson the Dragon never forgot. Vlad Tepes or “Vlad the Impailer” whom had twenty thousand people impaled on long stakes horizontally along the road the Romanian city he ruled in the fourteenth century. When the invading Ottoman Turks saw the scale of Tepes brutality, they turned and went home, lesson noted. Heinrick Himmler’s final solution was especially close to his heart, a textbook of efficient elimination. Ivan the Terrible, Mao, Idi Amin, Pol Pot, Stalin, Caligula…. oh Caligula, he was an original. And the Dragon had enjoyed Rome’s fruits. The Dragon had joined Papa Doc Duvalia’s Ton Ton Macoute at it’s inception, always one for the latest bloody coup, he wielded his machete like a Samari. The list was endless, each were efficient mass killers of their times. They were amateurs, thought the Dragon

The Hospital

As Alex struggled to reach the hospital phone, he grimaced in pain; damn things are always out of reach. He mentally revisited the conversation with the Planned Zero Corporation agent. In an instant, it came back to him what the nurse had said, “Someone set off bombs all over the city”. Did that mean, businesses, hotels, just office buildings? Alex lived in a high rise apartment with his small family. As he dialed and redialed his wife’s cell number his uneasiness turned to panic. He rang for the nurses and clicked the television on, in the same motion. Every channel was on location in some area of Seattle, his city was in pieces. There were no more tall buildings, what about his? The nurse walked in and asked what he needed. I can’t get through to my wife, the lines are jammed. I know she replied, the switchboard here has been flooded with calls. It seems like everyone in the city is missing someone. Can you find out about my apartment? Alex requested again, please? He jotted down the address and handed it to her, I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Reese. As she left the room, he knew.

Wake up Mr. Reese, Alex opened his eyes to the same Planned Zero Corporation agent from earlier in the day, hovering over him. I must have dosed off. Are they taking good care of you asked Jacobs? Yes he said. Very nice people said Alex. Mr. Reese, I have something to tell you and there is no easy way to say it but, your wife and child are missing, your apartment building is leveled, If they were in there, well, it doesn’t look good. Alex was paralyzed, his body numb, a million thoughts running rampant through his head, no, it’s not possible, then Alex remembered that his wife had been fighting a very bad bug and would have been home.

                                                        Chengdo, China 9:10 A.M.

Alex unpacked his bags, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city in the process, Chengdo was much bigger and busier than he imagined. He had been to many cities in many countries on assignment for work, but had never seen so damn many people. Where did they all live? He scanned the efficient hotel room looking for differences between hotels from the United States and the one he was standing in six thousand miles from home. Lots smaller he thought same cheap assed furniture though. Alex unpacked his laptop and fired it up; he pushed the wireless button, and was now re connected with the world. He re examined his life as he had gotten in the habit doing many times a day anymore. With his family gone and the paper closed he had agonized over his decision to write the book that was appearing in part on his computer screen as he watched. Jumbled notes and paragraphs appeared in full color familiarity. With the world in turmoil he wondered how smart it was to jump into the middle of the abortion issue fray. Both sides had their gloves off and were killing each other just as quickly as they could. There seemed to be no end to the escalating efficiency by which Right and the Lifers were offing each other. Being a journalist pre disposed him, and by his strong personal ethic’s to neutrality, but the fact remained, someone would eventually decide that he was on one side or another which could have deadly consequences for him and anyone connected with the book. Alex sat on the faux leather chair in front of the notebook and started typing, this was why I’m good at what I do, and I have no common sense….. I’ll call a cab and get my pictures today and be home in a couple.

                                Five kilometers outside Chendo, China, The trail of tears

Alex had studied Chinese culture for months before booking the flight. He knew that China contained one fifth of the world’s population and in that fact, had passed a law in 1979 to keep population growth in check. It had probably seemed like a good idea at the time but it had introduced a whole new set of issues that the government hadn’t planned on. Abortion and infanticide were rampant and were eventually encouraged by the powers that be. Families that produced a girl had no way of passing on the family name, so abortion became a plausible form of birth control. Eighty six percent of aborted fetuses were females and babies with birth defects. This is what had brought Alex to China to begin with. He had heard of a forest just outside Chengdo where the locals were said to leave unwanted newborns beside the trail to die. The concept seemed so far fetched that he had to see it for himself and if true it would add a special dimension to his book.

The ride into the country was interesting to say the least. Once outside the congestion of the city, the short trip to the countryside was remarkable, what a beautiful place he thought, in the distance he watched terrace hills, and trees with flowers for leaves pass in artificial silence.

The forest was thick with bamboo and other lush bushes trees and vines. A rainbow of mostly green lifted his spirits. As they pulled to the side of the road, and In his very broken attempt at Chinese he told the taxi driver to wait for him, the driver looked, and then smiled, and in almost perfect queens English told him “that wouldn’t be a problem”.

Alex took his Nikon digital out of the bag, checked to make sure it had a card and good batteries in it. He had missed some award winning shots over the years for just that reason. As he entered the forest he stepped onto the trail, the foreignness engulfed Alex, disorientating him for a moment, as he made his way down a slight incline in the dirt he snapped pictures as fast as the camera would allow at first. The sun shot through the canopy like lightning bolts from in an electrical storm. He walked for what seemed like an hour but was more like fifteen minutes…. when off to the right side of the trail was a small bundle, he pressed the button as he approached it with trepidation, did he really want to see what the small well worn and faded blanket held? He picket up a bent stick and moved a fold to the side, it was what was left of a new born infant. He guessed it had been laying here about as long as it had been alive. Shaken, he snapped a few more pictures, as much as he could take, and moved further down the trail, quickly. As Alex’s mind desperately worked at processing this horror he knew he had to keep moving. Five minutes or so he saw another bundle much like the first except for one thing….. It had faint movement, Alex snapped picture after picture while his mind ran wild with confusion on his approach, I can’t do this as he turned and fell into some bushes, got up, and ran the full distance back to the cab.

                                                                          The Hotel

Still agitated and sweating profusely he locked the hotel room door, sat at the desk, and cried, it was not an, “I’ll cry for a moment” and then feel better, cry, but a burst of emotion that brought back tremendous feelings… feelings that had been locked away since the bombings. His wife… his son, his life….had spun out of control. Alex had reached a crossroad. I have to do this book he thought as he regained his composure. I came here to do a job and I will do it, Alex grabbed the camera and slid the plastic door forward that held the card. He then, took a deep cleansing breath and slid it into the port in the computer. As the pictures loaded he concentrated on the positive side of what he was doing and how he needed to do this, anything to rectify the images branded onto his brain.

The pictures took him immediately back to trail, Alex had dealt with anxiety and panic attacks before, but this… was life changing, the world was confused and so was he.

As the thumbnails appeared, he closely examined each one for clarity and color. As he scanned the fifty or so snapshots, one in particular caught his attention. It looked like a man in one of the shot’s; he enlarged the picture to full frame, and caught his breath again. Bending over the second baby, with his back to the camera was a man. He was dressed in clothes from an era he didn’t recognize.  The man had a bag with a strap around his neck. He had jet black hair and Alex could see his left hand, it had some kind of mark, a mans face with a beard. There was no man there when I snapped That picture; I was the only person on the trail that I saw all day he thought. Other than the infants, I was alone. He examined the frame closer and tried find a reason. As he focused on the details of the picture he noticed a small white apparition, semi opaque and void of any discernable form connecting the man to the baby, he squinted, it didn’t do any good, there was a man that wasn’t there, a dying baby and an out of work reporter six thousand miles from home collecting pictures of ghosts. He poured a long drink from the bottle on the desk and made it a” short order”.

The flight home was long and torturous. Alex tried to keep himself busy with arranging and re arranging the information already gathered on his laptop. It wasn’t bad enough that the world was going to hell in a handbag but him, him self was starting to question his own sanity. He wondered why a so called God of mercy would take his wife and son, why he would allow innocent children to be left at the side of a path to die such a horrible death… alone. Why people whom all want the same basic things in life, to feed their families and enable them to have something better than they had, would kill each other, instead of sitting across a table and talking. Why a man that wasn’t there, was in his picture. This is far beyond my comprehension he thought, and lapsed into an uneasy sleep.

                                            New York City, LaGuardia Airport

Alex had managed to arrange a meeting with one of the church’s generals. He knew the interview would be strained because right now, everything was strained. It was arranged that he would be picked up at his hotel, blindfolded, and taken to an undisclosed location for the meeting. Trust was a hard thing to come by these days and Alex was understating the concept more and more.

As the SUV came to a halt he thought, I’ll bet this is how the out of favor gangsters feel. He was helped out of the vehicle and lead inside to a room where a chair was slid underneath him. How are you Mister Reese? A faceless voice asked. A man standing behind him lifted the blindfold from his eyes, it took a moment to focus but Alex replied, very well sir, and you? We are fine and hoping to stay that way…….they call me The Reverend General but My name is Joseph, so what can I do for you Mister Reese? He examined the man for any unusual features and could find none. He could have been any ones grandfather, gray hair pasty complexion, odd shaped liver spots and three day stubble. What set Alex aback was his dress; He looked more like a revolutionary Fidel Castro in latter years, dressed in green drab kakis and a machine pistol strapped to his side, then a man of the cloth. May I take notes asked Alex? You certainly can, said Joseph, as Alex took his pencil and small notebook from his shirt pocket he began,…] I’ve done many stories on your church over the years and have written as truthfully as possible. The evolution of your organization has taken many turns, if I understand your mission; it is to eradicate Abortion globally. Joseph, his legs crossed, with an elbow resting on one knee and his right hand stroking his whiskers, set his gaze to Alex. You are here because through the years, you have proven yourself through your writing to be unbiased. We…. have tried to handle this issue in a civilized manor as he explained in a soft direct voice. The moment has now passed for discussion. Mr. Reese… there are over one hundred and sixty active religions today; we are represented by most of them. We don’t all agree on each others Gods and Prophets collectedly, but there are two very troubling issues that we strongly in believe in enough to die for. The wanton slaughter of children will stop by our hand; we have tried to address this problem through the ministry in some capacity for hundreds of years but to no avail. We understand the concept of population control. We also understand that the church through history must share some guilt also, by letting greed and politics squeue the way abortion has been viewed. Mr. Reese, we also believe the End Times are upon us, we believe that there is a correlation. At this moment, if this is issue is not rectified immediately, it will be our legacy, it will be lost to time.

Alex was, for the first time, at a loss for words. The End Times? Every generation, when going through disaster, whether it be natural, monetary or political had manipulated that prophesy to keep mankind in check, it had always looked fairly transparent to him, this was different, it made sense, it all, made sense. The human race is entering a fight for its right to exist, said Joseph, the human race will survive, but it doesn’t have the right to. At that juncture a man dressed like Joseph sidles up and whispers something in Joseph’s ear. A look of extreme anguish captured Joseph’s face, I apologize, and I’m going to have to cut this interview short, it seems the NWU has bombed Israel………. as in nuclear bombs.

                                                                      Seattle

Sitting in his small sparsely appointed apartment Alex was trying to figure capture a direction to go with his project. He knew he needed an interview with the NWU, he didn’t relish the thought maybe because of his anti establishment attitude that was formed in college, much like the Kent State shootings in 1970, there had been some unrest and the national police had repeated the scenario on a somewhat smaller scale, they had killed two students instead of four but Alex had been there and seen it all, he had smelled the gunpowder, seen the blood, and noted the lack of remorse of the killers. He had no love for the establishment but had learned to temper his views when he became a writer. I need more pictures he thought. This book wasn’t going to be a history lesson or a sensationalized fluff piece, if it was possible for the world to end, this would be his Swan Song. Not a perfect life but certainly a productive one.

As he pulled up the China pictures on the computer, it got very chilly all of a sudden; he glanced out the window to view the torrential down pour for a moment. How do they dispose of the bodies? The ones from the clinics he wondered. He Goggled for what must have been two hours and came up with some sites. A couple in particular picked his interest.

                                                         Alex Bryan Reese

Alex Bryan Reese, six foot exactly, dark curly hair, born of Serbian linage, Jewish belief and surname, Redzic, changed by his great grandfather to Reese to ease integration when he brought his family to the United states as political refugee. Alex was proud of his family’s history, they were all survivors and strong people, his father had told him many tales of the hardships and triumphs the family had endured, the things that had directly and indirectly made him what he is. The story that had affected him the most and had pointed him to journalism happened in 1942 during World War Two and involved his great grandparents, the Serbs and the Russians were aligned when the Nazi’s were seeking global dominance. The Serbs that were loyal to the Nazi’s gathered up the Jewish Serbs in the town square for processing to a farm camp just outside of town. A fifty five gallon drum was placed at the front, Everyone was instructed to place any valuables in the drum, money, jewelry anything they had that was worth anything. To the left of the front of the line, a woman, whom had hidden a piece of jewelry in her hair, was shot in the head and left bleeding and very dead, to get the point across that they meant business. His great grandfather, not a wealthy man by any means had just bought his great grandmother a new pair of ruby red earrings, which she cherished. They quietly decided that he would take the chance and hide them in the side of a storm sewer they were standing next to. They passed through the line without incident and were taken by truck to an open air farm camp, just north of their home in the countryside. The camp had no walls or fencing but they were kept on such subsistence that few had the strength to escape. At night some of the men and young boys would sneak out into the countryside foraging for food. At one point Alex’s Great grandfather came upon a local farmer and made an arrangement that in exchange for his wife’s new ruby earrings, he would deliver one potato a day to the family. He snuck back into town and reteaved the earrings, knowing he would be shot on site if discovered, and delivered them to the farmer, the farmer kept his end of the bargain and this is how his ancestors survived. It left an indelible impression on Alex that couldn’t be taken, by anyone.     

                                                                          Mexico

It was getting harder to travel out of the country; the average ten to twelve hour wait to board the planes was defiantly straining the system. Several airliners had been brought down with shoulder fired rockets so the whole experience was becoming extremely uncomfortable for everyone.

Alex had decided that he would investigate the pro choice situation in Mexico; he would take a few days, and take in some scenery and avoid the airport all together. He was fluent in Spanish and had some connections from previous stories he had done across the border.

                                                            TO BE CONTINUED

                                                        Please pardon the spelling

                                                       Copyright Assgasket Publishing 2008
 

..

Fishing With Sandy
Broken rods are a small price to pay

	Ian Frazier, left, “simply could not be bothered” to pose for a photo with Jack Handey. (Meredith Jenks)

Our latest fishing adventure would take us out into New York Harbor, which has become a surprisingly good sport fishery. We were to fish with Captain Frank Crescitelli, probably the top guide in all of New York. Sandy picked me up bright and early in his SUV, and even let me sit up front with him. Usually he wants me to sit back in the cargo area with the fishing gear, to make sure it doesn’t roll around.

Driving to the Staten Island marina, Sandy suddenly swerved into the parking lot of a convenience store. “Give me 20 dollars,” he said. I quickly complied, and Sandy was soon emerging from the store with a big doughnut, a cup of coffee, and an adult magazine. It’s weird how well Sandy and I read each other; he seemed to know instinctively that I had already eaten breakfast. And that I wanted him to keep the change.

If you have any doubts about the fly-fishing dexterity of Sandy Frazier, you should see him balancing a coffee and a doughnut, and reading an adult magazine, all the while driving at excessive speeds. That’s the kind of talent you don’t see much anymore. He even managed to field a cell-phone call from his wife, who, incidentally, used to be my wife. (Who could blame her?)

After we stowed our gear aboard Captain Frank’s boat, Sandy asked me to go back to the car and see if he’d forgotten something. “What did you forget?” I asked. “Oh, I dunno, something,” he said. I didn’t see anything in the car, and when I got back to the dock the boat was gone. I can’t really fault Sandy for taking off without me. I’d spent maybe five minutes looking through the car, and when you’re ready to fish, five minutes is an eternity.

I sat on the dock for most of the day. I enjoy being outdoors, even when I’m not fishing. I just wish I’d gotten my hat off the boat, because it was pretty hot and bright. And my sunglasses. I thought about going inside someplace to wait, but Sandy doesn’t like it if he has to look for you when he comes back. Trust me.

It’s amazing how many ants there are on a boat dock. Once your eyes get trained to them, you see them everywhere. And, unfortunately, they bite. They seem to bite you more if you try to lie down and rest, or sit down, or stand on two feet. But if you stand on one foot and then the other, they don’t bother you as much. And you can’t blame them for biting. It’s we humans who are in their territory.

I could have tried fishing from the dock if I’d had my rod, but that too was on the boat. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was hoping Sandy was not using my rod. Dexterous as he is, he has broken about seven or eight of my fly rods. At least it always makes him laugh when he tells me how he broke a particular one. It’s too bad that some rods are irreplaceable, like the bamboo fly rod given to me by my grandfather. When I got it back from Sandy, he had tried to tape it back together with a piece of black electrical tape. The tape didn’t hold, but just making the gesture was so Sandy.

When Sandy and Captain Frank pulled back into the marina, they were happy. Sandy had caught a big striped bass and a couple of nice bluefish, all on a fly. Just hearing Sandy describe the fight those big fish put up made my day. It didn’t even matter that Sandy had, it turns out, broken my rod. And my sunglasses.

Captain Frank asked me why I had decided to stay on the dock instead of fishing. Sandy quickly jumped in, to keep me from being embarrassed. “He just likes it on the dock,” he said, then shrugged and twisted up his face in bewilderment. “Go figure.”

I’ve been on a couple of dozen fishing trips with Sandy. Technically, so far, I have not actually “fished.” Once, on the Beaverhead River in Montana, I floated in a driftboat with Sandy for a little while before I somehow fell overboard and spent the rest of the day drying my clothes on the bank.

But fishing is all in your mind, anyway, and Sandy will weave a good yarn about the day, if you buy him dinner and drinks. If he has too many drinks, he can get kind of angry, but I’d say that only happens about half the time. Maybe a little more than that. Sandy can make you feel like you were right there with him, fishing away. You almost want to ask, “Did I catch a fish? Did I?” He makes you feel like you were a part of it. He’s that good of a storyteller. And that good of a fishing buddy.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Since learning I was writing an article about us, Ian Frazier has asked me not to refer to him as “Sandy” in the piece. Or as his friend. Unfortunately, I have been told by the editors it’s too late to change anything. After much pleading, I have at least been granted this extra space to apologize. All I can say, Mister Frazier, is how sorry I am. I will make it up to you on our next fishing trip.

 So I’m sitting on the john at the mall. There’s someone in the stall next to me and I hear “hey how ya doin”. I’m a little put off, but I answer “I’m OK, the guy then says “how’s everything going” now, it’s starting to freak me out but I respond “just fine”.  Then he say’s, “honey, let me call you back, the guy in the next stall keeps talking to me and I can’t concentrate.

Whenever you read a good book, it’s like the author is right there, in the room talking to you, which is why I don’t like to read good books.

I think the mistake a lot of us make is thinking the state-appointed shrink is our friend.

Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: “Mankind”. Basically, it’s made up of two separate words - “mank” and “ind”. What do these words mean ? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.

“Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk, my first instinct is to laugh. But then I think, what if I was an ant, and she fell on me. Then it wouldn’t seem quite so funny

“I believe in making the world safe for our children, but not our children’s children, because I don’t think children should be having sex.”

“What is it about a beautiful sunny afternoon, with the birds singing and the wind rustling through the leaves, that makes you want to get drunk?”