Wednesday, August 17, 2011
6. Elysian Fields Forever
Sailors prefer sextants, compasses and charts. Even though Columbus had no idea how where he was going he needed a plan to get to where he believed he might end up. Sometimes when our assumptions and journeys are wrong we can make great discoveries. Most cross-country truckers have plans and count on map accuracy and CB’s. Somehow dads tend to depend on some defective inner compass when taking family excursions. They reluctantly eventually use maps finally admitting to the family that they have no idea where they are. Jake’s dad never used a map, which would result in the Niebo family taking eight hours to make a normal four-hour trip upstate New York. His dad was a proud man of few words. When Jake bought “Betty” his new guitar after working long and hard to buy it his dad observed in passing one night
“Nice guitar. See what happens when you work hard.”
That’s all.
Jake took it as a compliment.
“Thanks. dad.”
His dad was the same guy who used to quietly and unsolicited brought the Wannabes pizza and soda when they practiced their Beatle imitation in Jake’s basement. Leaving the food on a card table he walked back up the stairs without looking back and the boys heard
“Nice job, Keep it at it!”
On one of those long summertime treks upstate Jake’s dad said he had heard of another “new way” to get to Uncle Mikes near Herkimer. After about an hour of seeing the same intersection from four different approaches Jake grabbed a map from the glove compartment and feverishly focused on the map pointing out to his dad that he might want to follow one particular state highway. His father sat in silence and continued driving. There was a slim crack in the curtain of silence an hour later when his dad briskly whispered once
“Hey what was that good idea you had?”
Jake learned from an early age the value of maps.
No matter how sophisticated or useful maps are the potential experiences are nowhere to be found on a colored lines and names of villages and towns represented on the carefully unfolded paper. Sometimes one just needs to follow the white lines on the road and take what comes. Like the meandering rivers most roads will also take you eventually to where you need to be. Like his father Jake thought his own intuition was pretty good about setting a course. He would say his inner compass was pretty accurate as he thought he knew where he was at any given moment. He was always good at faking it.
The map in Jake’s hands indicated that after making it across the river he would enter a postage stamp called the “nutmeg state.” This New York suburb state was where Sundance went to college, Fairfield University. Fairfield, town and university, had a history of being a temporary safe harbor for journeymen on odysseys. A disaffected Massachusetts conservative Puritan who later moved on to the colony of Virginia and eventually escaped back to the place from where he came, Dublin, gave Fairfield its name. He really had trouble settling down. Maybe the Jesuits were strategic in selecting Fairfield for their suburb university. Young men on journeys seemed were attracted to this formation factory.
“ ’Finding Fairfield ‘ might a good name for a poem or book. “
Jake thought
It really wasn’t much of a task for a probationary student from the suburbs of northwest Jersey to find this little island in between here and there. There were no signs for the university on the highways but there was a large exit sign off the interstate “Town of Fairfield.” Jake often relied on signs in some form or another. Another Marlboro moment - toking a lit butt relieved the anxious pilgrim as he entered the secret garden with a wink from God. The rain ceased suddenly and a slim ray of sunset sunlight poked through the gray expanse over head. Like a power spotlight this lasered beam focused on one particular spot, a small hand carved sign on the side of the road almost imperceptible because of the surrounding overgrown thorny rose bushes
“Fairfield University - (in smaller letters) Per Fidem Ad Plenam Veritatem- Main Entrance.”
Jake started to sing about rolling into Nazareth feeling half past dead.
He entered this unknown island . The birds escorting he and Betty were delighted in his arrival. As Jake drove up the narrow roadway across the Fairfield campus he imagined apparitions of black robed exorcists suddenly jumping from bushes holding up crucifixes shouting.
One lonely shadowy figure in the distance stood in the middle of the roadway with his right hand raised in the air.
“The power of Christ compels you.”
Remnants of the past few days showering baptismal rain became land streams that worked their way to the rivers that spilled into the sea. As the shadowy figure drew closer to the car the grin on the half hidden face became more recognizable. It was Sundance. His hand remained out to greet Jake who had finally landed. Sundance’s grin of welcome grew as they got closer:
“ Introibo ad altare Dei –“
Before a second breath could be taken Jake’s automatic learned response
“ Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam “
Sundance made the sign of the cross over Jake’s head with his raised right hand
“Ego te absolvo ”
“ You mean it took that long for me to be forgiven?”
“You know what I mean. I have been trying to get you up here for the longest time. “
“Wow, it feels like I just left a couple of hours ago.”
“Well, whatever, you are here and the weekend is ours!”
Jake secretly sought to be safe and inspired - again. In a peculiar way he felt - at home. He was in a place he knew nothing about but he was in the company of an old trusted friend. Jake and Sundance strolled excitedly together across the red-striped horizon graced quad with an immense oversized shadow of the chapel’s steepled cross laying at their feet. Simultaneously and in standard Everly Brothers harmony they sang
“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream”
And laughed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)