“To every season, turn, turn, turn ”
Of course the cyclical nature of this loop fired up a distraction that led him to recall memorizing parts of the bible for Master Sergeant Sr. Mary Margaret. The Book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible was a favorite of hers. So when the Byrds chorus came around Jake would drift off to see himself in the old wooden desk muttering out loud
Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
What profit hath a man of all his labor which he takes under the sun?
or
All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full: unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
and
That which has been is that which will be, and that which has been done is that which will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun.
He couldn’t believe that he recalled this and how he could only remember parts and pieces of the verses of the sacred text. But before he could start analyzing why he only recalled these lines and not others around came that chorus in his head again and he would meander and quickly get distracted by singing
“To every season, turn, turn, turn.”
Searching to secure a secret silent solitudinal sanctuary sometimes would be the perfect exercise to help Jake get focused. Finding that space he would take out his journal and sometimes the words would flow like rain and rivers for him. Then again sometimes he felt as if he was lost Fisher King languishing in a wasteland unable even to see his own shadow. That’s where trouble usually began. That’s where Sundance surfaced quickly before any more damage could be done. Sundance intuitively knew exactly how to break Jake’s self conceived spell of self-perpetuating limbo that Jake spun around in over and over again.
Sundance once carefully constructed a thesis on how Ancient Greeks filled wineskins, for the celebration of the Anthesterion , how the Jews worshiped this season with solemnity, unleavened bread and the paschal lamb while the newly aligned Christians blended a little both celebrations and called it “the Lenten Season.” Sundance saw Jake slowly slipping into an unchartered desert and recalled his thesis for Jake and concluded by shouting out as if Jake was a little deaf…
“Let’s leave the ashes of a burned down yesterday behind to make room for the new order. Redemption is ours to secure. We will initiate our transformation by renewing our baptismal vows at the temple called ‘Babe’s Bar.’ “
Choices are not always perfect. Jake was rescued from his Dante Purgatorio subconscious state but was a little offended and became defensive about Sundance’s proposition.
“I can’t go to a bar named after Babe Ruth?”
Jake whined and continued…
“Didn’t I tell you about why I am a Red Sox fan?”
“I think you did about twenty times or so but…”
Jake wasn’t about to let Sundance defend his recommendation and jumped back in before Sundance knew what was happening…
“ My dad changed my life when he had turned me around and helped me learn how to become a left hander in most sports. He thought I might have an edge by playing as a left-hander. I leaned to swing for the fences lefty and throw like a rope with my left hand. However, Master Sergeant Sr. Mary Margaret didn’t like this left handed stuff and made sure I wrote with my right hand come hell or high water.”
“Did she whack you with a yardstick?”
“Did I tell you this already?”
“It was a good guess.”
“Well, the only left handed baseball player I knew of was Ted Williams. I think I knew of him because he was the first player I ever saw on our Zenith television. Anyways, my local friends in Bayonne at the time thought it a sin that I cheer for any other team other than the Yankees. A few friends thought it would be ok for cheer for the Giants or Dodgers since they were both local teams at the time. But to cheer for these New England thugs was considered disloyal to everything that was good and known at the time. So when I saw a Yankee on TV wearing Williams’ same number 9 and batting lefty, I thought it a divine sign. The player was Roger Maris and I switched loyalty to a new team. Besides Williams had retired from playing baseball the year before. The stars were aligned for a change, so I thought.”
Sundance quickly chimed in while Jake took a puff of his Marlboro
“But you don’t understand…”
“ No, you don’t understand…so my dad takes me and my brother Adalbert to a double header at Yankee stadium and we see Maris hit two home runs in each game. It sealed the deal. Maris also threw a ball from right field to home plate putting out a guy who attempted to tag up after a fly ball. The deal was sealed! He would be my hero.
Then wouldn’t ya know Maris hits 61 home runs that year, beats out Babe Ruth’s ole record and beats out his favored teammate, Mickey Mantle, for the most home runs in a season. Wow, I was in seventh heaven. But then it all began to unravel. The sports writers and the fans didn’t like this feat or this guy beating out the favored son ‘Mantle’ and two seasons later the Yankees traded Maris to the Cardinals. People can be so cruel. Sports writers and any kind of media critics are just aging bullies you know. They are folks with small private parts and the inability to have any relationship with anyone taking out their insecurities on the humbled or marginalized. Those targets won’t fight back.
Some say Maris was really hurt and depressed by the entire negative treatment and how he was run out of town to another team in another city. Though he never hit a lot of home runs again it was said he still had some great ball playing years ahead of him. I too became depressed and never forgave the Yankees and immediately switched my loyalty back to the Red Sox. I even wrote an apologia letter to the Yawkey family who owned the sox, asking for forgiveness for being disloyal.”
“You are a nut case.”
“Well, I never sent the letter.”
“Still, it is all just a game ya know…a game that is a big business. We are all dupes to help others make a lot of money based on our own ineptness to live out our own dreams.”
Sundance couldn’t admit to Jake that he treasured a piece written by one of his favorite writers, John Updike. It was an essay about Ted Williams’ last at bat at Fenway. Sundance grew up and stayed an avid Yankee fan .If any of his family or any of his other New York-phile friends knew about how he favored this piece from in the magazine the New Yorker was about Ted Williams , the anti-christ to St. Joe DiMaggio, he would never be forgiven. Sundance didn’t tell Jake either about how he favored that article and Jake never shared that he had his own copy of the same article folded up in his tattered journal. Sundance’s copy was neatly protected in some plastic collegiate protective sleeve tucked away in a secure secret place..
Sundance giggled as Jake’s rant seemed to calm down a little and pulled out his bible from his bookshelf . Sundance flipped to a dogged eared page and asked Jake to read it.
Jake thought
“Whoa, this guy has gone over the edge” but read out-loud the identified lines anyway
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seven times seventy times.”
