3. Doing Calypso !( v.3)

 

Charting a course takes some time, discipline and focus. It’s always helpful to have some idea where your vessel is headed. There have been many ships that have departed harbors that were not equipped to handle the unknown sea. Then there are many sailors who lack the skill and confidence for long voyages. Though he was finally getting his bearings Jake’s lack of confidence brought him to a safe harbor on Staten Island. In an attempt to explain his almost religious attendance at selected bars he wrote

 

“The divine created taverns for artistic respite, rejuvenation and redemption”

 

Jake needed all three. Lost souls have special sonar when searching for these chapels of insobriety. Some of these watering holes are famous for infusing courage and wisdom for wandering pilgrims. Most often they are sanctuaries from the storms created by raging gods. If one didn’t drown in a rogue wave a bar could be the place to drown one’s fears.  Dionysus provided the sacred serum sanctifying the artists seeking salvation. All Jake knew was that many of the great writers secured their place in history with the assistance of swigging succulent nectars before , during or after their creative surges . He dedicated himself to be a pledge for a fraternity of the ”new lost generation”. So until he found a way to get to Boston , Frisco , Paris or wherever authors and poets would gather to consume libations heartily , smoke cigarettes vigorously and commiserate fastidiously he affirmed his commitment - to become an official  “AAIT“(Alcoholic Author In Training.) He knew had a lot of catching up to do on all aspects of his vocation. The first step in his formation was to secure a regular seat that was “reserved” just for him at a specified tavern. Once secured the bartender would become so familiar with his regularity that he would automatically pour Jake’s personal preference before he would place your weary bones on the stool . There his compline commenced.

 

As the fates would have it one night another lost pilgrim too numb to move had inadvertently taken Jake’s seat. It was not a night for fighting as Jake relinquished his throne and wandered aimlessly. He wobbled and weaved from one side to the other of the tavern murmuring to himself

 

“ Jut one more Jack D rocks.”

 

Eros disguised as some earthly drunkard in drag shoved Jake right  into the path of  a fellow  “Wanderer” Ed Hule. The Wanderers weren’t a gang, posse or band . They were more like a drifting out of formation gaggle of geese. A lot of honking and little progress on their flights to nowhere while crapping wherever they landed.

 

 A quick look into each others’ vacant eyes and without a second thought Ed said

 

“ Hey, Niebo (Jake’s last name) , Stop right there.” .

 

Like a street magician Ed materialized a brown-eyed girl with baby hair explaining to both how being unattached is not necessary nor a good thing and it only made sense to connect. He delivered them to a table like two lost dogs eager to be fed. Ed departed and would never be seen again. Maybe he knew what was about to happen and split for safety to the coast. Her name was Joan; Jake would call her by her middle name Isabella. She was somewhat familiar with his reputation as he dated her good friend, Edie Parsons,( pre-Mary Lou ) for years. Her friend was the one that proclaimed that the song  “He’s a Rebel” as Jake’s theme song!  Like a mesmerized Manchurian Candidate Jake would raise his denim jacket collar and slipped on his shades and adopted her suggested identity whenever he heard that song of the sirens .The Wanderers then nicknamed Jake “Reb.”  Billy continued to call him “Ish”, short for Ishmael. Jake would come whenever Edie called his name. The betting line wasn’t in favor of Edie and Jake continuing as a couple.

 

Some relationships flourish or die before they even start. Nature and the intervention of the divine can determine the success or failure of a relationship. Jake’s sometimes pseudo -spiritual beliefs provided excuses from having any responsibility abut his own success or fate. God, angels , ghosts or ancient deities were chosen at random as reasons for his own personal success or failure. He was a convenient agnostic or a convenient believer. It depended on the circumstances. But when those holy endorphins kick in nothing can stand in the way of desire. Suddenly he found himself that night at the bar immersed in mystical conversation with Isabella . Social justice ,  theology ,  great books , “should Dr. Zhivago have left his wife” and other such topics and  interrogatories presented by this nymph guided their slow boiling exchange . By the misty morning fog they were imitations of Van Morrison characters with their hearts thumping.

 

She confidently wrote her number on a match book without waiting for it’s request. In return he coyly waited a few hours that same morning after he got home to call her. Jake didn’t want to seem too anxious. One date, two dates, three and before you could spell synchronicity four dates .

 

Isabella was thinking

 

“Good kisser.”

 

Isabella was aware about the danger of curiosity but she needed to know more about Jake. She couldn’t determine what to make of the unsolicited diverse opinions she heard about Jake and his behavior. Lost in her confusion one friend confided that she should get inside story from the only one who probably was aware of what made Jake tick , Sundance. When she finally caught up with Sundance all he had to say about Jake was that when he was in high school

 

"He kept questioning authority until he discovered all of their answers were wrong".

 

When one pictures sailing one doesn’t usually imagine twenty foot waves with forty mile per hour wind gusts threatening all hands on deck. It would also be a while before Jake and Isabella learned how to sail their relationship together in fair weather and foul. Flipping to a blank page on a one candle lit night he scripted

 

“In a dream birds rested from their mutual soaring on the convenient branches preparing to sing praising and celebrating a rebirth , as new light peaked over the horizon .A whisper of unknown origin shined on them  in a voice only they could hear -

 

‘It is time. It is time’”

 

The magical sea that once parted allowing his initial escape was complete again and the desert wandering was nearing it’s end . Jake could smell the sweetness of an unseen promised land.

 

The daily boxes on his wall calendar were filled with scribbles about giving scheduled guitar lessons and playing with the band in bars. There was an exception. Four days near what the church called Laetare Sunday nothing had been scheduled. Jake was ready to fill that void. The future was waiting for him to arrive.

 

Stars look like they align every so often. One doesn’t always need a sextant to know what course to take on an open sea. Isabella was the studious kind and she valued academic success as personal achievement. It was not a surprise for her to stay in Boston for the week prior to exams. A positive RSVP to Sundance’s invitation was becoming a reality. Sundance too was tired of waiting. Besides, Jake and Isabella  were sort of half broken up. “Half broken up” was a state of the relationship negotiated by Isabella during their money and security debates. Love was never an easy game to play for either of them. Jake thought that love was free and could be lot easier to manage if they weren’t encumbered by economic considerations, but the money was both blessing and burden. He planned to sort this all out sooner or later.

 

He started to sing one more song loud enough for Sundance to hear him a 100 miles away,

 

“Hold on I’m coming!”