9. The Symplegades

A sacramental ritual found in most cultures is the gathering at the meal with family and friends. Even itinerant pilgrims and crusaders have celebrated the breaking bread together blessing their journeys at weigh stations and taverns.  Warriors have been known to stop the violence to share a meal. Some would the make meal gatherings a boisterous celebration. Some family meals become a time to wage verbal warfare among each other. Other families and groups sit in fearful silence trying to consume whatever is on the table as fast as they can to escape the pain. For some the meal gatherings are constant solemn occasions of gratitude. Sometimes sadness surfaces when there are those who could come together but find excuses and busyness to avoid any prospect of sharing food and intimacy. Some eat alone. Some wish they would have something, anything to eat.

 

When Jake first heard that Sundance was going to Fairfield, a Jesuit University, Sundance had to explain whom these Jesuits were. He told Jake of how a wounded soldier, named Ignatius, had a conversion experience and ended forming a new group of missionaries. He called his fledgling group of wandering missionaries  “The Company of Jesus.” Sundance explained further that their use of the term “company” came from the Latin “cum panis” (with bread) which loosely meant for this group of sacred men “breaking the bread together (while on the journey…) with Jesus.”

 

Jake and Sundance’s group of Wanderers were not very sacred and nor were they on any real defined mission. Yet, at times their exchanges about different topics would court the edge of the spiritual.  Sometimes they drifted to topics such as the purpose of meal gatherings, the origins of grace at meals or who brewed the first beer. These roundtable conversations were born either out of boredom or an untapped desire to gain wisdom.  Billy started one of those explorations out of nowhere one evening as they all sat around a booth at Anthony’s Pizza Restaurant and Bar. They were all talking about how Anthony’s had the best pizza around and how they liked to gather together to have a slice and a beer when suddenly Billy lobbed a grenade into the conversation

 

“It wasn’t an accident that Jesus consciously decided to share a meal with his brothers and sisters, dining and drinking before he would be humiliated and put to death like a common criminal. Celebrating the holiness of friendship at a meal ranks second to the giving up one’s life for a friend as an expression of true love.  Isn’t that right, Jake?”

 

Jake taken back by the new exchange

 

“Come on, what are you talking about?”

 

Sundance placed his hand on Jake’s to calm him down and added

 

“Blood oaths are not natural but when two or more are connected even death cannot separate those bound together”

 

Billy was on a roll and continued

 

“We all feel the need to find comfort in connecting with others. It’s about survival really. We are social creatures aren’t we? Even if we have strong family ties we often feel the need to affiliate with an extended family. Look at us as we go to college. At these campuses of wisdom seekers coeds have created gangs or packs called fraternities or sororities. These collectives to spiritualize their communities create secret oaths and ceremonies. Their public missions are social, academic and even philanthropic but these “brotherhoods” and “sisterhoods” were often covers for toga parties as well as passing around the answers of the reused exams developed by a few lazy professors and their teaching assistants. In reality these groups are there to help all the lonely academic pilgrims feel needed. Taking letters from the Greek Alphabet and then creating a slogan in Latin that was meant to represent their values is a common tool to portray their legitimacy. Ever notice though how these gangs always tend to eat together or travel around the campus quads in cohorts?”

 

 

Al chimed

 

“Hey my cousin’s luncheon club is a fraternity of sorts, at Princeton.”

 

Billy

 

“Yeh, in many ways they were one of the first to organize their groups. They used the meal as their central point of convergence ”

 

Chase hurried and ordered another pitcher of beer and mumbled

 

“It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

 

Jake had once proposed to this paltry platoon that he wanted to continue “the Wanderers” through their college years. He suggested how they could transform their identity with a new name like “ I  Phelta Thi” with the slogan “Duit en Mon Dei.” No one in the group liked the idea after they provided quiet giggles to the proposal. Jake didn’t want to bring it up again.

 

Their communal conversation became more convoluted. Topics of sports teams, rock bands and religious congregations converged or collided, depending on one’s perspective.  Jake ordered another plain pizza pie. When it arrived he silently and solemnly separated and distributed a single piece to each one of the Wanderers around the table. He was the only one who was aware that this night was to be their last meal together as a group. He raised up his hot cheese dripping thin bread crusted slice and his glass of lager holding both above his head

 

“Remember this night always, guys. Don’t ever forget”

 

Sundance whispered for only a few who dared to hear

 

“Per ipsum, et cum ipso, et in ipso, est tibi Deo Patri omnipotenti in unitate Spiritus Sancti, omnis honor et gloria. Per omnia saecula saeculorum. “

 

Responding to their unofficial brother they lifted their slices and clanked their beer glasses together and said

 

“Amen!”

 

Jake and Sundance really didn’t need a club or official fraternity with Latin letters. Sundance stayed more connected to their old friends while Jake preferred the path of the iconoclast. Though after a couple of years since that last meal with the Wanderers Jake and Sundance were still together on their semi-mutual mission to find something, anything. At Babe’s Bar they had grabbed their drinks from the bartender and clinking the froth topped mugs as if they drank from the same cup like two wandering crusaders they would honor their pilgriming companionship.

 

“Salute!”

 

Sundance had eyeballed a little out of the way cigarette-stained table in one of the darkest corners of the bar. They hadn’t noticed they sat underneath a framed plaque on the wall next to them. A simple skull with cross bones and the number “322” etched underneath. After a few laughs and beers three or four broad shouldered crew cutted chinoed   desert booted and penny loafered guys stood over them.

 

“This is our table. It always has been and always will be. You are excused gentleman.”

 

Now this is what Jake had been waiting for. Sundance’s hand vice gripped Jake’s arm to the table .  Jake was selectively ignorant. He looked puzzled and annoyed at Sundance. Jake’s arm with the restricted blood flow was slowly from his chair by Sundance. Jake’s other hand had wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle ready to crash it open to slash a jugular of his opponent if need be. Sundance noticed the fists on the eighteen and a half oversized necks of the preppies and said

 

“Hey put down that bottle Jake. I’ll get you another.  We’re sorry guys. Our first time here and we didn’t know.”

 

Some people are silver tongued and Sundance’s words always sounded like the truth.

 

 

“It’s a gift.”

 

He was often told he should be a writer, actor or go into politics. He could have done anything well that required words! The biggest of the preppies loosened his fingers. Fists gone, Jake was completely confused and now irritated with Sundance. The two intruders slowly slithered to a corner as far away as they could from that end of the bar they and checked the walls around where they stood to see if there were any other plaques or pennants or signs or markings. There was a table with three chairs with only one guy sitting at it and he saw Jake and Sundance standing

 

“Hey you can sit here if you want.”

 

Sundance looked around

 

“Are you sure? We don’t want to take a seat that’s not ours.”

 

The fortyish unshaven man mumbled

 

“Up to you. These aren’t taken and you’re welcome”

 

Sundance quickly sat

 

“Thank you”

 

Jake continued to give the evil eye to the preppie thieves.

 

“I like that table. We were fine. We were there first.”

 

“Shut up an sit”

 

Sundance piled Jake down into his chaired and they continued as if their new table partner were a ghost.

 

“You have no idea who those guys were. They are Skull and Bones from Yale”

 

“I don’t care if they are Abbot and Costello from Hoboken. What right do the have to…”

 

“They are a secret …very secret club. Some say they rule New Haven. Some say the rule Yale. Some say they even rule the US.”

 

“You’re reading too many radical press articles, Sundance”

 

“Yeh , right. Look you don’t get it. Have a cigarette and a drink”

 

The slightly worn bourbon sipping smoking soloist looked up cracking a smilie …

 

“You guys are either brothers or is it more complicated than that?”

 

They all laughed. Well, Sundance had an uncomfortable laugh.

They introduced themselves

 

The man mumbled …

 

“They call me Bob. Want me to spell it backwards for ya ?”

 

Sundance felt for the guy and bought him another bourbon.

Sundance wanted to know about him.

 

“Where you from?”

 

Jake thought Sundance was nuts and asked

 

“What about finding girls?”

 

“Come on, Jake. Everyone has a story.”

 

Sundance could use his gift of words to charm others into talking. The man with the sorrowful eyes sipped his drink while smoking and spoke into his glass while brushing his longish gray-black oily locks with his right hand fingers. Without removing the cigarette from his lips he started by asking if the two were Yalees . Jake turned around staring down the brutes that stole his table

 

“Do we look like those assholes?”

 

Sundance explained how Jake was visiting and how Sundance was a student at Fairfield University and how they were just out and about.

Jake added

 

“We are on an odd Odyssey heading down an unknown river into some unchartered sea.  Don’t know where we are headed and don’t care !”

 

Jake likes to exaggerate a little - sometimes. Then the stranger began.

 

“ I was Jesuit trained too! I went to Jesuit school, St. Joe’s in Philadelphia. The Jesuits there would tease you with tips of the truth. If we were to know the whole truth the church as we know it would crumble “

 

A puff and the ramble continued…

 

“Me and a roommate at Hawk Hill went on a little pilgrimage once too like you young fellas. We started by going to a local watering hole one day, The Muddy Duck, and before we knew it we were on the road hitch hiking to somewhere. Some guy and his gal picked us up driving their big rig cross-country. We thought ‘perfect!’”

 

Well, he got Jake’s attention…. trucks and hitting the road.

 

“ Well, what happened?”

 

“Getting there son. Hold on.”

 

The guy chain-smoked and lighting another cigarette he took a gulp of the freshly filled glass of bourbon.

 

“ We didn’t really care where that trucker was headed, as long as he was heading far away from where we were. We were both excited as we both started to fantasize about seeing Florida or Texas. Neither of us had been west of the Mississippi and we couldn’t wait to get going. But we soon discovered great passages are not always what we dreamed they would be. The couple that picked us up were, let’s just say a little different.”

 

Jake thought “Ok now this is going to get good.”

 

“Well, It wasn’t that we didn’t appreciate their generosity. Did I say they would treat us to meals at all the truck stops? There was never any foul-mouthed talk or smoking or any signs of alcohol. “

 

Jake started to change his opinion quickly

 

“My God.”

 

“You are right son. In some ways they were quite boring. I think they were using their truck driving as some type of ministry of sorts. The woman read from the Bible out loud and both would ‘thank God’ or ‘Praise God’ for this or that.  They weren’t proselytizing evangelicals they just who they were and if we wanted a ride we had to live with it. Anyways, the trip was taking longer than we had planned .All that God stuff made the days a little tedious. But funny though before we knew we were in Denver and we thought we might want to get off the road for a day and decide what we wanted to do- you know to go forward or to go back. I read once that ‘not to decide is to decide.’ So we decided. The truck driver and his gal wished us ‘God’ speed’ and they were gone from our lives but not from our memories. That’s when and where we met two other guys who were on their own road trip and they were headed east or at least we thought that was the case.

 

Magically coming up over the hill through the foggy mist of the morning a big black Cadillac crept up alongside of us as we were standing on the side of the road debating where to go. The passenger window came down carefully and slowly with cigarette smoke bleeding from the inside to mix with the outdoor mist and no faces yet seen a voice seeped out

 

‘Hey you guys looking for a lift east?’

 

“ It was providential .We didn’t think twice and jumped in joining these two guys on their way to Chicago. My roomie was suspicious about all this. He always had some lack of trust in others he didn’t know. All that witnessing by our recent driver and his lady did have an impact but changing one’s life is not that easy, ya know. The driver took off like a maniac rocket man. For a moment there we both regretted leaving the trucker and his companion. Sometimes we don’t make the right decisions when we run from rather something than run to something. “

 

Sundance and Jake stared at each other shrugging their shoulders. Jake giggled. The man kept on.

 

“We got away from those two those guys in Chicago and never said bye or anything and never heard from them or saw them again. The last we saw was smoke blowing from the exhaust as a cigarette was flicked out of a partly opened window. We were convinced that we didn’t want to end up like these two! Ya know in some ways you two look like younger versions of those two guys.”

 

He puffed the cigarette and sipped the bourbon. Sundance looked over at Jake and tried to telepathically say “What’s this all about?”

 

The sip done the man went on

 

“ Anyways, we hurriedly grabbed the next bus to Philly and were soon back at school. When we got back to St. Joe’s I found a note in my dorm room door to call home. My parents had died in a car accident just the day before. Everything changed in a split second. They never knew I was away and well I um…I went home for the funeral and never returned to college. I ended up getting my CDL and took a job driving cross-country trucks and have been on the road since. My roomie graduated and ended as an Assistant Attorney General prosecuting child sex abuse cases and he still lives just outside of Philadelphia.”

 

He took a another quick swig and puff and as he exhaled

 

“Ya remember in the story about ‘Alice’ and what the Cheshire cat said to her when Alice asked which path she should take? The cat said ‘That all depends a good deal on where you want to get to’ and Alice said something like ‘I don’t much care where.’ The cat answered ‘then it doesn’t matter which way you go.’ Well, it matters boys. If ya do just what you think pleases you, you’ll end up like me always on the road goin' nowhere fast…”

 

Jake thought that being a truck driver wasn’t such a bad thing.  He asked the guy

 

“If that’s true then how will I know when I get to where I am supposed to be?”

 

Jake drifted as a simple soft sullen smile ran across his face as he self-reminisced about the time in eighth grade Jake had to write an assay of where he saw himself as an adult. Jake wrote about driving a truck across the great divide through canyons where hawks soared and miniature dust tornadoes whipped along the plains below.  “Ah , the heartland, wheat fields and dust bowls , real life, real values.” Trucking up the coast roads of southern and northern California stopping to witness the great sun disappear in a flash of bright yellow-orange-red sky into the ocean. The witnessing of Big Sur would be a sacred experience that could last a lifetime. Maybe he would see the illusive green flash? The road could be his home. Jake believed that this stranger they met in this strange location of libations was just tired from his journey and forgot about the gift of the being on the road.

The guy started to light another cigarette. With the flash of the match three tight sweatered young sirens appeared like genies magically seeping out from the bourbon bottle hovering over the three men at the table.

 

“Hey you guys want to go to a sorority party?”

 

Jake got lost somewhere between the stranger’s monologue and the sudden request. Decisions, decisions. Sometimes intuition takes over. Jake jumped back to his reflection on his admiration of Roger Maris. Jake just wouldn’t let go of it. 

 

“You know, Maris proved that he made the right decision by making the long throw to stop Matty Alou from scoring the tying run on a double by Willie Mays in the ninth inning of the seventh game of the World Series. The next batter was out and the Yanks won the World Series again. It would have been the easier decision and play for Maris to put out Mays. But then the game would have been tied. Even though he made the right decision and had executed it perfectly the Yankees still traded him. So much for good decisions. Everyday is filled with choices, turn right or left, eat this drink that, stay here or go there. Desires unknown, desires unfulfilled. Different motivations influence different decisions. Can’t always worry about where each decision will take you. Can’t always get what you need either.”

 

Sundance was trying to be patient. Smiling uncomfortably at the girls, he knew had to get Jake focused and nudged him while saying

 

“Let it go, Jake!

 

Jake lit a cigarette held it straight up between his right hand fore finger and thumb and watched which way the smoke drifted.  He had in his mind that if the smoke would rise for an inch or two then bend in the direction of the girls, he would know what to do. The smoke drifted immediately towards the girls.

 

“Never can be too sure”

 

The girls giggled and thought it was cute.

 

Sundance turned to the man at their table

 

“You coming with us?”

 

The stranger smirked

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Well, will you be here later? I would like to hear more. Besides, thanks for the story and the advice.”

 

“ Well, I never have any plans. So I expect to be here for a while unless something changes. ”

 

Sundance really didn’t expect to return. He was just being…Sundance.

 

The storyteller took another gulp of his drink, toked his butt and didn’t lift his head or eyes again to acknowledge Jake and Sundance’s departure. When Sundance quickly glanced back the table where the three had been sitting he noticed just like that ….it was empty, even the beer and shot glasses were gone. It was almost as if the three had never been together at that table. Sundance motioned to the girls.

 

The five then sauntered smoothly with a sway this way and that to the bar’s exit. Sundance putting his arms around two of the ladies as they sang the ole Sam Cooke tune,“We’re having a party, dancing to the music, played by a dj, on the radio.”

 

Jake was in a half good mood.

 

“Mission just about accomplished.”

 

He shouted over the music and added.

 

“ By the way good choice on the bar, Sundance!”

 

 

8. Hersiod Verses – The World

Every so often a melody or lines from a song get stuck in loop repeating over and over and over and over inside one’s head. Unknown sourced spark ignites the loop.  Repetition can’t last forever. Expectations begin to grow that the loop is finding the end of the universe and suddenly, wham, here it comes again right out of nowhere.  Well. Jake felt that way sometimes especially when he would hear the Byrds or Pete Seeger echoing inside his inner ear

 

“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.”

 

Sundance tried to suggest that some biblical scholars , including his own Jesuit teachers, would write pages suggesting that Jesus was saying that just as we are forgiven always we need to be forgiving always, all times.

Jake took offense to the suggestion.

 

“What do priests know about baseball anyway? Maris’s heart was broken and so was mine!  I am not forgiving anyone…ever about anything!”

 

Sundance added

 

“Well ladies and gentlemen we now know why the term ‘fan’ comes from the word ‘fanatic.’ You have to let go , Jake.”

 

“Well it is a divine  act that another New York area Polack has become the heir apparent to Williams.”

 

“What?”

 

“You know , Yastremski !Yastremski a New York lefty joining the Red Sox! It is a sign I tell you welcoming me back to where I belong.”

 

They strolled through the portal to the underworld of Babe’s Bar to the sounds of “Show me the way to the next whiskey bar/Oh don’t ask why”, Jake was wishing he had known about visiting this watering hole for Connecticut Yankees as he would have his Red Sox ball cap!

 

Sundance finally took advantage of Jake’s silent pause and pulled onto Jake’s sleeve …

 

“By the way this bar is named for the original owner, ‘Babe’ Babeletti , or something like that and …. not Babe Ruth!”

 

“Oh” 

 

Jake half acknowledged Sundance with a half broken smile as he scanned the bar for a seat.

7. Dionysian Dreams and The Holy Grail

Somewhere somehow someplace someone speculated sometime ago how the ascetic Desert Fathers are somewhat distant blood brothers to Buddhist monks. The someone who was suspected of speaking those  words was Sundance . He said that

 

“ detachment, solitude, meditation were common characteristics between the two groups. A living communion of earthly saints in training.  Rituals of chopping wood and carrying water filled the minutes and hours of each day. Being present to the now is everything that one needs. Mantras are prayers and prayers mantras. Blue skies or rain, it really didn’t matter.  Cries of the intermittent cicadas during the light of day and the chorus of crickets welcome the darkness sing  the same song differently. Change is the only constant. One energy is the thread that nourishes all things. Without the silence between tones called notes music doesn’t exist.”

 

All this intrigued Jake. He really didn’t think about such things on his own. However, Sundance would have to explain how he didn’t recall ever discussing this matter.

 

“You must have been dreaming.”

 

Billy Barrows, resident philosopher of Wanderers, they say he was the first to cross the line, signed Jake’s yearbook with a phrase Jake never forgot, “ Be who you are. And you will be who you are supposed to be.” He used to say that one couldn’t buy peace.  Al Hendle signed his picture in the yearbook by just writing “peace.” He found complete peace before Jake or any of the  “Wanderers.” Sundance scribbled  “. Go forth!” in Jake’s yearbook. Jake forgot what he wrote, if anything, in other yearbooks.

 

Jake had no idea where any of these words or concepts came from.

 

“What is the spark that fuels these words and these ideas to exist and be expressed and to shine anyway?”

 

Both Sundance’s and Billy’s ideas and words resonated when Jake plodded piously down placid paths of the pastoral grounds of the Jesuit Retreat House just outside of Morristown, New Jersey during their high school senior retreat. He discovered that the spartan living conditions at this home away from the world were uncharacteristically appealing. He admitted he didn’t know much about Jesuits or Ignatian spirituality.

 

Jake stopped in the middle of a path, sat and jotted

 

“The song of the wind-chimes of freedom sing responding to the breath of God and the occasional solo of the morning bird interrupts the silence but in doing so the solace and solitude are enhanced  . At the moment of  “just about dawn” the local union owl speaks out asking me the haunting query repeatedly until I gave in responding

 

‘Me!’”

 

Sacred polyphonic chants of gratitude graciously filled the air surrounding the wandering spirits welcoming the birth of that new day on those holy grounds of this Jesuit safe house. When the light of day eventually disappeared from sight the solemnity of the voices returned echoing in and out of halls and walls…  humbled and thankful for the river of constant consolation .“Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae; Et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.”

 

Memories filled and bounced around Jake’s head as he became distracted imagining that Sundance’s inner sanctum of scholarly and spiritual solitude at Fairfield University to be the mirror of the retreat house he visited years earlier.

 

“Those Jesuits and their influence seems to be the same no matter where they hang their black robes .”

 

His exposure to things of the Company of Jesus was a little limited and his imagination would run away on him . He imagined that Sundance’s dorm room would be a perfect monastic prayer closest where “no thing” would interfere with the consolation and transformation of one’s spirit and mind.

 

It was no surprise that the hallowed residence hall was part no-tell motel and part prison-block in appearance.

 

Sundance muttered

 

“Excuse the stench. It’s normal here.”

 

Suddenly half naked waste high toweled young men chased and screamed like pre teen girls running in Marx Brother precision in and out the doors along the hallway. Jake shook his head and Sundance’s smile was a blend of pride and embarrassment as he quickly unlocked the door to the solo sanctuary. On queue Sundance hummed to the melody to a Brian Wilson song in which Jake was all to familiar as he whispered the opening lyrics,

 

 “There’s a place where I can go and never be afraid…in my room.”

 

A red-yellowed Avedon Lennon portrait hung adjacent to a black and white of Groucho poster adorned Sundance’s self-proclaimed Sistine ceiling with all eyes watching every move of the pilgrims’ comings and goings.  A “Free Booby Seale” banner curtained the window. Novels, textbooks, and vinyl records thrown and stacked here and there. Cigarette butts and ashes poured over on the desk next to the key worn selectric typewriter. Unedited notes on a thesis on Joycian influences on Behan and Donleavy stacked proudly on a corner of the dresser almost hiding the annual Christmas holiday Cassady family photo. The requisite crucifix crookedly hanging above the doorway was both a persistent reminder and warning. This place was not at all what Jake expected. He smiled…

 

“Wow, this place is great!”

 

Sundance was so excited about Jake’s arrival that he forgot that the great traditional weekend bon fire planned by the members of “Lost Fraternity of Fairfield” was cancelled by the administration. Students used this ritual as the rite to celebrate spring by burning away the past and to drown old sins by drinking beer celebrating the forthcoming season.

 

Sundance explained

 

“You see this Anastheria Dionysian celebration was considered a little too hedonistic and counter-catholic by the many in Jesuit administration of the university. Bonfires were a little too reminiscent of witch burnings,  I guess and may have been reminders of the regularly scheduled celebrations in the past for the local puritanical Fairfield village. “

 

Sundance tried to rationalize further

 

“Well, you know the best laid men of mice and plans often go astray.”

 

Pre-occupied as usual Jake didn’t laugh and thought for a moment about asking for a grand tour of the university reserved for special guests. He didn’t get the tour. He didn’t know why but he maintained a curiosity about the Society of Jesus. Jake fantasized that just walking onto this perceived Holy Ground of Sundance’s university would somehow transform him. He continued his drifting in silence.

 

“Will I hear some profound message? Would there be a metanoia?  Would this just be another day in paradise? Something’s gotta to happen. It always does”

 

He always had trouble letting go. He didn’t see any priests that night and that was probably a good thing. There was only one solution for him…

 

“When in doubt drink and drink a lot…(of alcohol of course.)”

So where’s the local watering hole where we can get a burger and a beer?”

 

Sundance chimed

 

“Ah, burgers and beer, the communion meal of wayward acolytes.

I know just the place and maybe we’ll get lucky and get invited to a Yale party!”

 

Sundance continued

 

“Beer and parties are perfect bait, the words themselves are soulful sounds of the Sirens for posing as waitresses singing for wandering single sailors seeking safe passage. Lost souls consuming alcohol helps increase less concern about long our wayward sojourns. “

 

Jake drifted again, he did that a lot lately, and recalled for Sundance how something always seems to happen when he went to a bar. He reminded Sundance that it was in the same bar where Jake would eventually meet Isabella that he, Billy, Art and a couple of would get into their first bar brawl.

 

“We took Chase to some bar on Staten Island to celebrate with Chase the  birth of his son and God dammit wouldn’t ya know Chase had the balls to make a very overt pass at the first waitress he saw. Unbeknownst to us the waitress’  ‘US Marine fiancé on leave from Vietnam was at the other end of the bar and like a flaming rocket threw a flying fist at Chase’s face. Before one could yell “bar fight” Chase, Billy and me were assaulted by half dozen of locals as our philosopher fried Billy screamed

 

‘I’m a lover not a fighter’ “

 

Sundance smiled

 

“That’s my Billy!”

 

Jake not laughing

 

 “Well it wasn’t very funny or cool as it was about six guys who took me down and knocked me out cold .”

 

“It was probably just one or two,”

 

whispered Sundance.

 

“ I was beaten to a pulp and woke hours later in Chase’s car that had it’s headlights knocked out and windshield smashed. Chase drove and cried all the way home blubbering

 

‘How am I going to explain this to my wife?’ “

 

Sundance shook his head and couldn’t keep from laughing as he said,

 

“And that’s my Chase!”

 

“Well that’s when I decided I was going to be a conscientious objector and peace activist or something like that”

 

Jake suddenly shifted gears …and added

 

“As they say the show must go on. The next night after the fateful fight I had an important gig with my then band. “

 

Sundance thought

 

“When is he going to grow up? He’s always in some band or something.”

 

Ignoring Sundance’s physical turning away pretending to shuffle this or that on he desk, Jake continued.

 

“Well my new image of wearing sunglasses with a bandage on my chin all the time was born. The girls thought the new look made me cooler than cool. Though at first it was just an attempt to hide a big puffy black eye and a three-inch gash on the chin it became my look. Those scars never really healed completely. (I guess scars never do.) That night led to an unexpected bar fight and transformation of how I saw myself”

 

“So?”

 

“I’m done with bar fights and the idea of going into an unknown tavern in Connecticut is a little scary, ya know. ”

 

“But going to a bar, like the one where you were knocked out, is how you met Isabella!”

 

“Exactly! I can’t take anymore surprises or changes!”

 

Sundance tried to explain that no one partied in the town of Fairfield. It still maintained it’s puritanical roots. It was a lonely town for lonely people.

 

“They role up the sidewalks and fold up the trees at sunset in Fairfield. Besides who would want to stay here when you have Yale parties just a few minutes away and everyone across the country has heard about the infamous Yale parties! You don’t understand we need to go to get out of here.”

 

When Jake was going through his blue period after Mary Lou vanished Sundance sent Jake a post card of the Statue of Liberty with a brief message on the back

 

“When you need to be free – don’t forget to quench your thirst. When you need consolation– drink from the cup of life. It will help you realize that you can be free from the traps in this world that try to suck you into the belief that nothing will make you ever make you happy. Drink so that you feel only peace as you walk away from the wreckage. ”

 

Jake was convinced that Sundance was writing about beer.

They were off to New Haven.