The drama teacher told us the other day that the boys do not emote enough and asked me and Francine to give examples. Is she kidding? I am a bundle of emotions. My soul and heart are like a bunch of elastics that pile one on to the other building a ball bigger than a golf ball. Each elastic can snap at the knowledge of sadness, pain and suffering. An elastic or two will snap if there is hatred and bitterness. I am the most ridiculous example of someone you should NOT be like. But these guys need examples, she said.
Well, I beg to differ, Mrs. Messier! These boys know how to emote alright. They did it just fine when they were babies, even as toddlers but when they got to nursery school at the ripe OLD age of 3 and 4, they were laughed at for showing emotions. …
The man had a thick brown beard that hid his face and neck. His small brown eyes were hidden under his bushy eyebrows. He was not tall and for North American standards, he was leaning towards short. The man walked with a purpose like a bear searching for his prey. Not a sound, not an expression, just bland apathy painted on his face.
I hid behind the couch with my friend looking out at this strange man who had already kidnapped four of my friends and a baby. The police had been contacted by the man but I never heard anything from them.
My friend refused to run with me saying it was no use and she feared the man would only get more agitated and shoot us.
I refused to give in without a fight, so I ran out the back door, jumped into my car and drove off to my old apartment where I had lived ten years ago. The superintendent recognized me as I ran to him telling him I had to hide somewhere safe. We went up to the sixth floor and looked out the window of his brother’s condo. The bearded man had followed me. I had to run again. I was running out of options. My heart beat so quickly, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Then, I remembered the secret hallway on this floor. The superintendent knew my plan the moment I ran towards that hallway and told me to take his car, handing me his keys. He said his car was where he always parked and he would try to slow the bearded man to give me a head start.
The hallway brought me to a fire escape which landed behind two brown dumpsters. The super’s car was there and I drove out the private exit that only the firemen were allowed entry. I had no idea where I could hide. I didn’t want to go to my workplace downtown to put my colleagues at risk. My car was going west out of an old habit, towards the airport and then I thought of Rick. No one knew of my past employment there. It was too long ago and the warehouse would be a great place to hide so I could get in contact with the police.
I drove to the side entrance of the warehouse and the huge doors were open, so I parked my car inside and screamed, “We have to lock down now!” The shipper recognized me and buzzed Rick as he closed all doors. I hid between the racks of nuts and bolts, too afraid to be seen in the front office.
Suddenly I was in the office and so many people crowding around me with concern on their faces. I briefly told Rick and asked if he could let me stay there. I went into his office and called the detective who was in charge of the case. Detective No Name said to sit tight, that his men were still negotiating and told me not to worry.
“Not worry!! It has been 36 hours and five people have been kidnapped and still nothing! What are you doing to about this?”
Detective No Name explained he had other more urgent cases he was working on…his voice trailed and I yelled, “What is the amount of the ransom?” I was contemplating that I might be able to borrow from my mother’s house not yet sold and there is a little bit left in her estate. I was wondering how many hundreds of thousands of dollars the ransom could be and discouragement started to weigh on me.
“The kidnapper is asking for $3,000.00”.
WHAT?!!! All this trouble for so little money?!!” I could not believe my ears. What kind of desperate person kidnaps so many people for $3,000?
“Let me just pay it! Why can’t I just speak to the kidnapper when he calls you? Do you know how many lives are at stake right now…how f*&^g stupid are you guys?!”
My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I rolled over trying to get back to sleep to visit with Rick.
(c) Cheryl-Lynn ’18/08/19
Author’s note: The bearded man looked exactly like , Huck, a character in the series Scandal. Rick was my employer and friend when I first moved to Toronto. He and his family made such a difference in my adjusting to my move away from home in the late 90’s. A year after I left his employment, I got a call at work from an employee at his warehouse that he was tragically killed in a biking accident…such a tragedy for a young man in his early 30’s. I still think about him. I feel blessed that I still am in contact with his family and twin sister from time to time.
I often get odd dreams with my mom or grandmother but this is the first time Rick has ever visited me in a dream. I could never get him back when I went back to sleep, only Mister Beard kept turning up.
I wrote a post this afternoon to you, Emma, but cyberspace was very hungry, I guess, and it ate the whole darn thing! Let’s see. I was telling you about my plans to visit two amazing friends. One I can only see once a year when she comes from Brazil to visit her daughter in Toronto. The other is a friendship that grew over time who I will also be visiting in Ontario.
I met my friend from Brazil through an old boyfriend and we connected immediately. I felt we were like soulmates. I guess there is nothing to explain that…it is a feeling you get with some rare and unique people in a lifetime.
Each time I spend time with this friend, I grow on so many levels. She is an artist as well as a therapist and so since I cannot draw, I paint my canvas with words and am also a counsellor. We have children of similar ages and share starting life over, or ending it (however you want to look at it) on our own, like big girls.
My other friend is brilliant, creative, rational and warm. Where I am touchy freely, she is artistic and a doer. I admire her tenacity and although life has thrown her several curved balls, she has succeeded in ways, I am not sure I could have. Her strength is what also sustains me. We connected first at work and I felt inclined to share my poetry with her right from the beginning. Our friendship just blossomed over time.
After spending time with these two amazing women, on my drive or train ride back home, I feel so inspired and have the urge to write about it. I feel I grow creatively, spiritually, emotionally, intellectually and physically because I feel a bit taller, sticking my chest out and holding my head up high. I so look forward to seeing them both next week.
Well, Emma, I don’t think I told it like it was on my first draft but the essence is there. Thanks for listening, as always.
past and present
past and present
fears and joys shared
future in between
Today, I was disappointed to see some tasteless articles and video clips on Aretha’s past. And I’m not talking about singing. I was upset that some people ( not only the media) like to find sad or bad things that happened in her life. So I looked for a biography of her, I had seen her talk about with Oprah and another reporter. She was asked about David Ritz’s autobiography he wrote later and she adamantly said they were all lies. Whether that is true or not is not my place to judge but to respect Aretha….period.
As I was reading the reviews it really pissed me off how some people were expecting Aretha to spill out very private things as if a celebrity owes this to her fans. Well they don’t! I feel this is illogical…NO! it is despicable!
Why not heed her mantra R E S P E C T?
I purchased Aretha’s book, Aretha from these Roots then spent the rest of the day finishing a series of poems for her and watched videos of her until dinner.
It was fitting that it rained today…
World’s loss of their queen