Dateline Sutivan: The Truth at Last!??

Suspicions about gda. M's role in the missing grapes have been laid to
rest. Locals said the grapes had been picked by a local lawyer -- A.,
the same lawyer used by both Ivo and gda. M. This fueled a good deal of
speculation.

M. arrived in town Tuesday specifically to straighten this out and
promptly visited lawyer A. Apparently, a few weeks ago she took him to
see her property and he admired the harvest which looked to him as if it
was going to waste, so he asked if he could pick the grapes. Either M.
said "no" or, as another possibility that is not quite clear, she may
have given approval believing that he was asking if he could eat a few.
(The dangers of pidgin conversation.)

At any rate, the next day he showed up with two other men and cleaned
the place out, as was discovered by Pavle just a day later.

In the interests of good relationships, lawyer A. has agreed to pay
$1000 Euros to Spiro, Ivo's brother -in-law and the man who was to make
our white wine this year. In addition, to show there are no hard
feelings, lawyer A. will provide a lamb grill for the wine-maker.

The police declined comment on the incident.

Barring further disclosures, we now consider this mystery solved, as
much as it will ever be.

Ferry Dream: from 2006 that I Just Found

I guess I thought I was K., or something, but here it is:

Ferry Dream - 2006

He was to meet her on the ferry The ferry was going somewhere . . . It
doesn't matter now.

He had hoped to catch her boarding, on the quay , but the thick crowds,
automobile fumes, the bother and hurry had made that impossible. He was
certain, however, that she was on the ferry.

He waited at the small bar for an espresso and took it with him outside,
climbing the narrow steel stairs to the top deck. Here there were two or
three couples in the yellow seats in the sun sheltered from the strong
wind by steel bulkheads under years of high-gloss white paint.

One woman read. For a moment he thought it she. Then he was certain it
was not. Those were not her features, he thought, nor would she dress
like that, although he could not think what she might be wearing. He
could not see the title of the book.

He lit a Cubanito and then sat down in the open wind. A man with a small
goatee who looked like an art professor or painter, dressed in a worn
brown sportsjacket with cravat, sat down next to him and lit a cigarette.

The man said something in Serbian or Croatian. He did not
understand...ne razumijem...he was handed a torn scrap of paper with a
hand-written message but he could not tell what language it was in,
although it could have been addressed to him, it bore no signature. He
put it in his jacket pocket.

A few hundred meters away bobbed a small fishing boat with two bulky
figures in it. They pulled at a net which came in slowly, darkly, wetly.
Something glistened in the net. The boat twisted in the wind. The man at
the bow seemed to lose his balance for just a moment, putting his hand
out for the gunwale.

He looked at his watch. If he did not find her soon, he would have to
look for her as they docked. He went down to the smoking compartment.
The ferry was full of people occupying every seat. They talked together
of everyday matters in loud voices, urgent, persuasive. The smoke was
thick, blue and everywhere. A TV set was loud, blue and unintelligible
in the corner.

She was not here either, although for a moment once again he thought he
sensed her sybillance.

Then the ferry was docking. People leapt from their seats and crowded in
a great mass at the doors and stairs and at the auto gate as if a matter
of survival. He could see the passengers on the docks also massed for
its mooring.

What had she said she would be wearing? Perhaps that was what the note
had been about, or perhaps a rendevous point?

He held back and waited until he might be able to descend the stairs and
walk the end gate without being pressed.

Perhaps she might do the same.

The stone houses on the riva shone white and blinding in the sun. A
green cafe umbrella emblazoned with the name of a domestic beer tottered
then blew over in the wind.

He reached into his pocket for her note, but could not find it.

Dateline Brac: Season Change

The Yugo is blowing - that hot, dry wind from Africa that - locals claim
- drives people insane. And yet it rains. Two days and two nights so
far. Still I manage a Solstice swim, near Murvica, picking grapes. The
water was cold and clarifying. We went a day early to pick our grapes,
rightly afraid of the rain that might ruin them. Now neighbors huddle
under an almond tree, under umbrellas, forlornly watching the rain on
their fruit. We bottle up last year's wine to make room for the new. I
drink some on the stone terrace watching clouds cover Hvar across the
channel, the white crashing breakers last to disappear. Later I drive
the 4x4 home over rain-channeled muddy roads dropping sheerly to the
sea, while Ivo sits in the back, enjoying his smokes.

Dateline Sutivan: M. "Knows Nothing"

More on our developing story:

Gda. M. has responded to email query about her knowledge of the missing
grapes with a blanket denial. However, she indicated that she will come
to Milna from Poland for 3 days next week to straighten things out.

Interestingly, the locals in Sutivan claim they saw who took the grapes:
a lawyer from Supetar. Ivo scratched his head at this news, since the
lawyer identified is a good friend of his. At the same time, however,
he also serves as a lawyer for gda. M.

This may all be cleared up when gda. M. arrives Monday?

Meanwhile, it appears that we will get about 250 liters of red wine and
maybe 50 liters of rakija from the grapes on Ivo's land near Bol.
Without gda. M.'s grapes, we will make no white wine this year.

Brac: Amidst Wine-making, A Cautionary Tale

It was summer in Dalmatia, and hotter than hell, when Henry went nuts.
I don't know if the crazy-making Yugo's were blowing, or if they blew
only in his mind.

Henry had always been a shadowy, non-descript character to me. I had
met him two or three times, always in the dark and always in the company
of his Polish lady-friend, M. I don't know his nationality, but he
spoke English like it was his own language. He was of medium-build.
Maybe his hair was thinning or almost gone. I have only the dimmest
impression of him beyond that, looming in the dark, almost silent,
almost invisible.

Anyway, it seems that Henry had purchased a stony plot of ground inland
on the island near the ancient Illyrian/Roman village of Skrip. There
he had put a small trailer and made it a a holiday home. He had cut
down the weeds and cleaned up the place and, as he proudly proclaimed,
the neighbors had grown to accept him when they saw him working his own
land.

Sometimes, there is a difference between reality and the dream, however,
and coming here in mid-summer, stuck in a small trailer, unprotected,
beneath a brutal sun, blinding light reflecting off the white stone,
proved trying. In addition, the neighbors, having accepted him, were
good people. Every time they saw him, they cried 'Hey, Henry, come and
have a drink with us.' Pivo, vino, rakija . . . it was all one to
Henry, who happily sampled, tippled, and guzzled his way along.

How to imagine what was boiling in his brain?

One day, the neighbors found him half-dressed, lurching about his land,
thrashing his arms, and raving in drunken shouts beneath the sun. They
could not calm him down and - to protect him from himself - ended up
tying his hands and feet and taking him to the hospital. He was
transferred to the mainland. When M. came to visit, he did not
recognize her. His brother had him flown back home to more temperate
climate and rather less booze. Or maybe the people there were just not
as friendly.

The latest word is that Henry has recovered, but we have not seen him
again this year. His trailer sits empty and, with the autumn rains,
weeds are beginning to reappear among his stones.

The neighbor who gave me this news, paused, then - being a good person -
asked anxiously: 'Jos vino, John?'

Dateline Sutivan: Developments in Scandal

Official word from gda. M. is that she knows NOTHING about the theft of
the grapes. We will pursue this matter. Something is not meshing.
Back to the police. Is it lawyers? neighbors? We will dog it.

Meanwhile, on Friday, (tomorrow) Ivo, Pavle and me go to Bol (actually,
Murvica) to pick what is left of the red grapes there before the
forecasted rain on Saturday (subota). We will run it through Spiro's
mangle on Saturday and get the fermentation process working. Something
must be saved of this year's crop.

Did I mention that the rakija (brandy) from last year is especially
smooth and pleasing?

Yum.

Dateline Sutivan: Scandal Rocks Island

Developing Story:

Just days before the harvest of the white grapes of Sutivan, catastrophe
has struck. Pavle X., who was tending the grapes, says," I am in
shock. I don't understand how this could happen."

For some time now, Pavle has been cultivating the vines of gda. M., a
resident of Poland, preparing for a harvest and wine-making just as last
year. Imagine his surprise when he arrived yesterday morning to find
that sometime in the last day or so, someone had picked all the grapes.
His son-in-law, Ivo P., immediately called the police in Supetar and in
Split, who were non-committal. "Show us proof that you have a right to
those grapes," they told the flabbergasted Ivo.

Spiro X., also involved in the harvest and wine-making, said he was out
a lot of money since he had purchased a new grape mangle especially for
this crop.

This is a disaster for local winemaking, meaning that there will be no
white wine production this year, and that the amount of red wine
produced will be cut in half. The volume of rakija produced will also
suffer greatly.

Ivo is in communications with gda. M., advising her of the theft and
asking that she send documentation of Ivo and Pavle's rights.

Meanwhile, rumors swirl as to the identity of the thieves - with
suggestions of legal complicity - and one question looms largest of
all: just how much does Gda. M. know?

Milna Update: Memory on Equinox

Working on my little garden wall, I find more evidence of Lucica:
"Bonacic Luccio 1957"

Dateline Milna: Autumnal Equinox 2010 and Trivia

Perfect balance of light and dark, life and death. And a full moon. I
have purchased a memory candle and will light it tonight after writing
down the names of all family members who are gone. (I am also supposed
to go for a swim today - a small ritual - but maybe that won't happen. . .)

Lovely weather, 64 in the morning, 79 in the afternoon, blue sky.

Took soil for my newly enlarged garden from an Englishwoman's plot of
land behind my house. Six wheelbarrows so far. That may be all. The
neighbors back there watched me pretty closely. I hear she's due to
show up in Milna in a few days and I'll have to confess. Still waiting
for 8 bags of potting soil from the hardware store to mix in before I
replant anything.

Some photos attached. Several of Slavko putting stone facing on his
house in Milna, just down a couple of streets from us; one of Stipe, our
local recycling engineer who was joking with Slavko about me taking his
picture, so I took one of him too; and one of a 'singing sea captain'
Julia and I saw in Trogir. Sometimes I can see myself and sometimes
Charles in him. . .

Lori's Update: Horse barn remodel

Well (hubby) John and I have been working on the renovations on the barn
for a few weeks now and making progress. We set up a work party
yesterday and got the WHOLE roof redone in ONE day! It is so nice inside
now! Lighter and dry and now we can really get goin on putting the horse
stalls and stuff inside together. It was great to have so many good
friends to help! We cooked on the big bbq and had a great dinner.
Started working a little after 9am and it was done a little before 5
that night! Will write more details later, but have to get going this
morning before the rain starts again!

Charles Grimes the Writer

The Entertainer

 

We all start this life

With a story that needs

To be told

A working plan that

Needs to unfold

 

Some of us have the

Depths of a perceptive soul

To be found

And some of

Us can barely

Drag ourselves along

The ground

 

There are those among us

Who are so deep and profound

With dreams and

Thoughts and so much measure

To be found

That their days are spent

Surrounded by treasure

 

Some among us spend each

Day dealing with thoughts of

Death and dying

Sorting out the rhythms of the dark

And upon the completion

Of all of this traveling

The requisite renewal that becomes a lark

 

Then there are

Subjects like me

People with a shallow

Depth of their soul who the

Best thing that describes

Their curious state

Is they might be Entertaining

And hopefully they are in charge

Of their functioning mental estate

 

 

 

 

 

People like me who are

Mostly concerned about

Food and warmth and making

You laugh

 

People like me who have

Deep and meaningful

Dreams and then craft them

Into stories because that is

What appeals to their sense of the lyrical

 

We don't look for

The meaning or any sense

Of it all

We look for a smile

A laugh or a nod

We want to reduce the tense

Moments of Pain that fill

The little houses all the while

 

Yes we are entertainers

And no matter

What is said or done

This is our perception of God's

Life this show this journey of living

We have found ourselves

Traveling upon

 

And when our trip is over

A voice from the gallery might call

And Be heard as they yell out

He was not so bad after all

 

Dateline Milna: Stone Mason, 9/15/10

Julia's leaving has really thrown me a curve. When she was here, I was
content to play my uke, read sci fi, paint now and then, hike now and
then. Now that she's gone, damn if I don't feel like I have to do
something . . . like work, I mean . . . so I have started working on
raising my little flower bed wall 9" or so. The reasons are arcane, but
the stones are not. And as soon as I started I remembered putting down
the tile floor last year . . . my working methods, I mean . . .'hmmmm, I
should probably study this a while . . . a little pivo might help . . .
I don't think I have enough stones (hahaha) . . . maybe I do . . . oh,
well, the hardware store is out of cement right now so I probably
shouldn't start with the little that I have . . . and the sun is hitting
right on that spot I was going to work . . . I should probably have a
little pivo and wait . . . its kinda hot . . . ow.my back hurts . . .
should I really do this?' etc. etc. It took me three days (four,
really) to get started, and even though cement is still in short supply
I am slowly raising the wall . . . now I have Ivo's father, Pavle,
coming over to offer me support . . . which means that when I begin to
slow down he urges me on . . . shows me how I should be doing it . . .
or if I'm really dragging, he brings me a glass of that rakija (brandy)
that we made last year . . . that always gets me going again for a
sprint, at least . . .I figure that any competent villager could do the
job in two days, I will probably take about 10 or more or more . . . it
was easier when Julia was here clicking away on her keyboard and I was
reading Thucydides and playing Springsteen's "Thunder Road" on my
ukelele. . .

Lori says: Julia jinxed me!!

So I was talking to Julia when she got home about how nothing had gone
major wrong, all was under control at the farm..........................

Well I got home the next morning and there was a suspicious wet spot on
the asphalt! I turned off the water it dried up, turned on the water and
there it was again! JINX!!!! Ha Ha just kidding, about Julia jinxing me,
not about the water leak........It is under the asphalt where we had to
replace it a couple years ago with Tim out here. I thought the last
water bill was high, but we had literally no rain at all in July. I will
call them so they can get it adjusted. John thinks we can make the
digging easy with the bobcat. I think that is the best thing he has ever
bought! Water is turned off now at the house so all is fine and we'll
get it fixed.

So, our first big work party at our house is this Saturday! We are going
to start cooking on the big bbq in the morning and start working on our
horse barn. Sort of like an old fashioned barn raising. We have lots of
volunteer help offered so it should be fun too. We have the whole layout
figured out so now it is just gettin' it done!

Dateline Milna: 9/13, Carnival

I have gotten in to the habit of dropping by the restaurant in the
marina in the early afternoon every few days. They have free wi-fi and
I buy a beer and catch up. Today, (well, yesterday by now) I was unable
to send email but had a beer anyway, watching the sailboats come in.

Later that evening Charles called. I hadn't talked to him in a long
time (hell, I haven't seen him for two years now.) He was bach'ing for
a few days like I am now. As we chatted, I heard strange sounds coming
from the Riva - the waterfront - a drum, trombones, and maybe an
accordion. I lit a cigar and strolled down and, damn, if they didn't
have an Madi Gras happening there. Dance troupes in gaudy costumes:
red, yellow, green, Turks, hareem girls, red horned devils in
miniskirts, pirates, scarecrows,and lots and lots of Rayon. It was the
Rijeka carnival come to Brac. (Check it out on the WWW, the Madi Gras
carnival in Rijeka is big in Europe.) Even the local young people and a
few older ones who worked for the village had gone all out on Arabian
shiek and hareem costumes.

The troupes would gather at the corner of Fjaka, a coffee-bar, and when
their turn came, come through the crowd following their banners into
the tiny, main square whirling and dancing to their chosen music. They
would dance about 100 feet, then sort of march-dance-mill about in a
tight circle, kicking their legs and flinging their arms, and doing
their best to be ecstatic, or at least cheerful, unfettered and free, in
the small space.

Meanwhile, the older Croatian women - built like blocks of square black
stone - sat on the park benches and stolidly watched it all.

Update: 9/11, Julia Leaves

I awoke at 6 Friday morning with a violent strobing across my retinas.
S**t, I thought, I really should have skipped that last glass of wine at
Slavko's. Gradually, gingerly, I discovered that the flashes were
coming from outside my window, from the slate blue clouds rolling in
from Italy to the west. By 9 o'clock, just as we went down to the Riva
to catch the catamaran to Split, the sky had opened it's gates wide, and
water was flooding down the white stone stairs.

In Split, we dawdled damply in the first cafe we ran across, drinking
cappachino and waiting, watching tourists caught in the rain. We had
put everything in Julia's suitcases in plastic bags the night before,
Julia had an umbrella, and I had a 99 cent disposable rain pancho, so
eventually we gave up waiting and went on some errands, later catching
a city bus to Trogir. Trogir is a UNESCO world heritage site, a tiny
medieval town which was originally founded 2300 years ago by Greek
colonists from Vis (Greek: Issa), who were themselves colonials from
Syracuse, itself a Greek colony of Corinth. The rain stopped, and we
wandered winding, narrow stone alley-canyons, past ancient churches,
mythical stone carvings, 1001 souvenir shops and eateries of various
sorts. The town museum of sacred art had some wonderful, luminous egg
tempera on wood paintings of Mary and various saints from the 1300's.

That night we stayed in a new apartment only a mile from the airport.
Very nice: bedroom, kitchen with table and chairs, living room with
t.v., bathroom with shower for 40 Euros.

At 3:30 a.m. we rose. The owner of the apartment house gave us a lift
the short distance to the airport. By 5:45, Julia was through the
security and on her way and I wandered out to the main road and caught a
bus to Split. By 11:00, I was safely back in my island home. The house
was strangely quiet. I listened hard for the faint clack of the laptop
keyboard upstairs where Julia had worked for the last month, thinking
perhaps her departure had been a dream.

We Watched the 1960's on TV

We watched the 1960's on TV

 

While James Brown was trying to calm

Washington DC down

I was sitting with my friends by the side

Of the road counting the trucks

As they drove through town

 

We played another game that day

We each counted the cars that had some one

Inside that we knew

As you have guessed we knew all but a few

 

America was changing and the war in

Viet Nam was raging and the radio was

Playing Bob Dylan and the Beatles and

Stones and we didn't even try to make sense of it all

 

The 60's were happening some place far away

A place with hippies and people with money

A place where if you were black you were discounted

Up front and where women were tired of men

And took off their bras and waved them over their

Heads to show they were free

We paid attention to this

 

The 60's were making the front pages and some

Of the clever ones around us knew the story

But most people were like me and couldn't really

Pay attention to much more than James Bond,

Hit records and trying to get the attention of the girl

Who sat next to you and ask her to tell you a story

About how she loved you and thought you were such a thrill

 

Yes the 60's were happening and later I understood that

These were the best days that were ever lived by man

I know you would argue that there were other great times

But the 6o's were the last time humanity rose up

And tried to defend itself from the juggernaut of it all

 

We watched the 1960's on TV and we sat with our parents

And watched it all just as dumbfounded as they were

By the changes and all

We watched the 1960's on TV and wondered what it meant

To be alive and dealing with it all

What position to take or do you just learn to live with it all

Waiting for the Cello Player

The sunset was playing and dancing

Across the streaked orange sky

Over Bellingham bay

 

I was walking inside the Music

Theatre at school

Down the hallway

I heard a radio blaring the

Most incredible sound of music

I had ever heard

 

The sound filled up the space around

Me and It swirled around my shoulders

And spun my head around

The hallway was crowded with chords

And notes and intensity and

What was being played?

 

I wanted to listen to this music

Forever and as I got

Closer I could tell it was Bach

But this was a furious Bach

 

This sound was like the sound of the

City around us crashing about with

Intellectual fury

Machinations beyond belief

And all the while it was only as

Large as one man can think

 

It was Glenn Gould playing Bach's

Variations and I had to have that

Music I needed to know what made

Gould play this music this way

 

For that moment I had found the

Meaning of it all

The meaning for what we live

A chance to know the other world

A mystical moment in this short life

And then it was gone

The radio show was over and the hallway

Grew dark while I waited for the cello player

 

Dateline Milna: 9/8/10, Yugo and Thucydides

After a day of confusion, the wind has decidedly changed from the cold
Northern European Bura to a hot, sticky Yugo coming up from Africa.
Night and day, it is whistling through the sailboat masts and howling
through the side streets. There are 30 or more sailboats stranded for a
day or so until it blows itself out. I am listening to the wind with
pleasure and reading Thucydides now and am totally confounded as to why
the Athenians tried to invade Sicily in the Peloponnesian War, and why
they suffered such a disastrous rout. Thucydides description of it is
pretty harrowing. What in hell were they thinking? I lie in bed at
night unable to sleep thinking about it. Anyone?

Musings on Labor Day

Anonymous said...

hiking and exploring


shrine going


and fireworks watching


tourists leaving

roof gets fixing


julia is planning
on leaving



once again 

we are
left 

with just the greeks

charles

Dateline Milna: 9/6/2010

In the cooler weather brought on by the Bura, we hiked the old path
between villages to the 10th century chapel of Saint Martin (a very Zen
story, his.) Just below the chapel, we decided to continue on to the
neighboring village of Bobovisca. We flanked a hill high above the sea,
through thyme, rosemary and mint, olive and fig. I pulled up a couple
of varieties of mint to plant in my garden, passed on the thyme and
later regretted it. We found a small shrine set on a tiny, fancy
pebblework square, now overgrown and uneven. I gorged myself on fresh
figs we along the way. Coming into the nearly deserted village of
Bobovisca, we found an old man cutting up dried bread for his animals.
Our timing was such that we were able to catch a bus back to Milna.

Then again out to Osibova, bright green pine against a transparent
tourquiose sea, strangely vacant after the high season.

Everywhere things are slowing down. When you sit on the Riva at night
there are as many locals as tourists, maybe more. True, last night they
held a portion of the Miss Croatia (to-contend-for-Miss-Universe)
pageant just below our house at the terraced colonnade, but even that -
being filmed for distribution rather than being shown live - was a
relatively quiet affair. At midnight, we watched from our upstairs
window as the sky above our house was festooned with fireworks as a
finale to their filming.

I had a man out to look at my roof who promised that for $200 USD he can
put up some metal flashing that should solve my problems, at least for
awhile. That I consider an incredible bargain and seal the deal with a
beer.

Rain this morning, helping set the mood for Julia's return to the States
this coming Saturday.

I enjoy re-reading Herodotus and Thucydides with my morning coffee.

Just Cuz He's so Cute

Dateline Mina: The Bura Came (a change of luck?)

Two nights ago the Bura came. Sweeping out of Central Europe in a vast
and agitated movement, sucking the heat from the sea as it swept across
its surface, cooling the air 10 degrees or more. In the morning
everything was clearer and richer in color. The shocking-green pine
trees and the red tile roofs stood dramatic against a deep blue sky and
the sticky hot oppression of the week before was already a memory. I
walked up the hill behind our house to sketch some Christ's Thorn that I
wanted to try to paint. Once there, however, with a clear view of my
little back roof with all its problems, I thought, 'Wot the hell, Arch,
how could such a little roof cause so many problems? Just give me one
strong yeoman to help and I'd soon have it right.' Well, not having a
yeoman, nevertheless, I climbed up on it and started poking around and
swiftly realized that with a little luck I could at least replace a
couple of the tiles that I had broken walking upon it last year and
poorly patched and thus fix one problem – a problem that had resulted in
my whole guest room/ novo watercolor art studio ceiling being almost
destroyed in last Spring's heavy rains. So, this morning when I rose and
with the temperature a delightful 24 (70) degrees at 9 a.m., I grabbed a
hammer and chisel and two spare roof tiles and back up I went. Now I
have been successful and full of new confidence, I plot what to do to
patch up the rest of my roof problems and leave construction decisions
for another year . . . I drink coffee and kick around some stones that I
have piled on our patio (to Julia's chagrin) and that I am thinking of
building into an improved garden wall when a neighbor comes up with a
whole bowl of juicy smokva (figs). With Julia's help interpreting, we
figure out that he is telling us that if we just give our little fig
tree more water - a fig tree that he planted for us unprompted a couple
of years ago – if we just give it more water we may have figs of our own
some day!

DREAM

Long Ago and Far Away

My wife Melanie met a Chinese Psychic

At a Conference in San Francisco

The Woman's name was

Anna Bella Marie Chang

And her friends called her Chang Bella

 

Chang Bella had short black hair

Ruby lips and translucent skin

Her father was from an old Hong Kong

Family and her mother was from California

 

Melanie and Chang Bella enjoyed each

Others company and spoke of ancient

Herbalists and read Chinese tealeaves

Together in the lobby of the

Sir Francis Drake Hotel

 

Chang Bella remarked that Melanie had

A rainbow glint in her eyes

And that Melanie should remember

Her in the future as

Chang Bella could be counted on

 

As my wife and her new friend Chang

Left the conference on a rainy Sunday

Afternoon and just as they were leaving and

Standing in front of the hotel Chang Bella began

Someday I will be of great assistance

To you and your family as we meet again

Then she left in a yellow checker cab

 

Days turned into weeks and months

Into Years and then late in August of

This year Melanie and I traveled to New York

For business and were staying in the City

At the Chelsea Hotel.

 

One very hot and humid night all of

The lights in the city went out, taxis stopped

mid - fare and buses came to a halt

TVs went blank and the Internet was no

Longer connected

 

 

 

Panic ensued in the streets of New York

Hordes of people crowded into stairwells and

Strangers began to push and strain against each

Other making their way down to the street from

Their now walkup apartments as

The elevators had gone still

 

There were screams of mayhem as New Yorkers

And visitors alike clamored about trying to

Make sense of what was going on

"Is this the end," people shouted

"I can't believe this!"

 

As the night wore on and daybreak began

The panic began to settle

Down as those who could began to seek passage

Out of the city and those who could not

Began to settle for enough water to make it through

A few more days A few more days hopefully so

An answer could be found

 

The media was completely blacked out and the

Only way to get word around the city was for

People to talk to each other

Stories were told of a complete breakdown of the

Economy there was no more money to be passed

Between buyer and seller

The money was gone

 

People were streaming down the streets of New York

Going around the stranded cars, taxis and buses

People were just walking everywhere they could looking

For answers "How can we leave this place?"  

"How can I get a drink of water?"

 

There were whispers of places to go to seek passage

Out of the city

There was a man in Harlem who could help and

A lady in Brooklyn had connections

Melanie heard of a woman in China Town who

Worked out of a old movie theatre and

Could make things happen so we decided to try

This China Town connection

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the way to China Town Melanie decided that she

Couldn't take the walk downtown in the suffocating

Heat so I walked her back to the Chelsea Hotel and then

Set out again for China Town.

 

Back in the crowd of people looking for a way out,

A way to find something to drink or eat

I felt the strange sensation that everyone was everyman

None of us had any money there were no more jobs

And if you carried a Gucci bag or a plastic bag

There was no distinction

 

I was on my way to this abandoned movie theatre in

China town and all I had been told was that the theatre

Was on a busy street corner and that there would

Be hundreds of people milling around outside of it

I kept walking in the heat and the humidity desperate

To find a way out of this chaos in New York

 

After an hour or so of searching the street corners

Of China town I found the theatre

It was called the Sleeping Dragon Theatre and

It seemed the Dragon had been asleep for some time

The place was boarded up and the doors were barely

Hanging on their hinges

 

The rumors were right about the hundreds of people

Milling around outside the Sleeping Dragon

People were everywhere trying to convince the bouncers

Outside the theatre that they were the right people to

Let inside It seems there was a selective process to

Allow people audience with those who could help

 

I had not considered that I would have to go through

A screening process in order to meet with someone

Who could help Melanie and I find passage out of

New York and out of this strange collapse of the Economy

I stood confused near the entrance pondering what

My next move would be when a bouncer came up to me

And asked me to follow him inside

 

 

 

 

I was dumbfounded as there were hundreds of people

Out side the theatre pleading for entrance so I said to

The bouncer why are you showing me in while so many

Others are waiting outside

He said you will see let the day unfold

 

I followed the bouncer into the theatre and then walked

Down towards the stage following his instructions

There were about 50 people standing near the darkened

Stage and they spoke in many languages mostly

Chinese and Japanese but there were some Slavic

Languages being spoken as well with just a little bit of

English and French around the edges of the crowd

 

We were all waiting for the Person Who Could Help

To come out onto the stage it was as if we were

Waiting for our tour guide to emerge from behind

The ancient velvet curtains that were hanging on the stage

 

After another ten minutes the curtains were pulled back

And a stately woman walked out onto the stage her

Hair was black and her skin was translucent her ruby lips

Moved slowly and her eyes locked on me as I stood

Below the stage

She was wearing a rose flowered dress that shined

In the darkness of the theatre

 

It was Anna Bella Maria Chang I had only seen

Pictures of her but I knew instinctively who she was

She came over to me and said I had a rainbow glint

In my eyes and asked me where Melanie was

I told her Melanie was suffering from the heat and

Was back at the hotel

 

Chang Bella told me that she would meet Melanie and

I at the Chelsea Hotel in one hour and she would arrange

Passage for us out of New York

She told me to hurry and be ready to leave the city

In just one hour

 

I fled the theatre and started walking back to the hotel

As fast as I could go how crazy it was that

Chang Bella would be the one to release us

From this madness

 

It was tortuous to work my way back to the hotel

As panic was starting to roil the city again

Nightfall was coming and there was no power and

No food in the stores New Yorkers were going to

Have to learn to hunt and gather again Central

Park would become a place to pick berries and

Stalk game the best hunters would begin to dominate

Those who couldn't adapt those who relied on

Take out would be left to ruin

 

I finally trudged back to the hotel and told

Melanie what had happened and she cried tears

Of joy that it was Chang Bella who would save

Us from this craziness in New York

How do these things happen she kept saying

While I madly threw our clothes and belongings into

The suitcases

 

In just one hour a black Mercedes pulled up to the

Front of the Hotel and Chang Bella was sitting

In the back seat and she smiled and hugged

Melanie tightly I will take you back to Ann Arbor

Where you will be safe while the world falls

Apart and comes back together again

The way the world works will be different from

Now on but it will take years for all of this to be

Sorted out I will take you back to Ann Arbor

Where you will be safe and be able to eat

 

All the way back to Ann Arbor Chang Bella and

Melanie read Chinese tea leaves and discussed

Great healers while I sat near the door and

Watched while the world went by

 

Charles Grimes

Ann Arbor  August 2010