Guilty Delights

 

Guilty Delights

Noel Laflin

9-17-24

 

"So, Daniel, what did you do in San Francisco today?"

 

"Oh, we ran to the Golden Gate Bridge and back," pointing to both he and his elegantly dressed daughter sitting across from us.

 

I looked over his shoulder and out the ship’s dining room window where the famous landmark shimmered in the distant twilight.

 

"Jesus, Daniel, how far is that?"

 

"Approximately twenty kilometers, since we ran all the way across the bridge and back to the ship again."

 

Daniel is from Germany, so of course he measures in kilometers. Turns out father and daughter ran about twelve and a half miles before dinner. I had to go to Google to determine the conversion.

 

No wonder he had the steak, and then politely asked for and inhaled a second one, all sides included.

 

And his beautiful daughter didn't think twice before nearly licking her chicken dinner clean off the plate and then going for a large piece of chocolate cake.

 

I too had the chocolate cake for dessert, but certainly didn't feel like I had earned it.

 

But, I nearly inhaled it anyway, telling myself that guilt is simply an overrated emotion.

Vigils

 

Vigils

Noel Laflin

8-22-24

 

People leave gifts for friends who have passed. We see them along lonely stretches of roads sometimes or off to the sidewalk of a busy city intersection where tragedy struck - makeshift memorials put together as tokens of love, wanting, longing, maybe even a sense of guilt for not having been able to avert a loss.

 

Such is a memorial for a man who took his life beneath an old tree that I pass by frequently. It happened sometime ago, but fresh flowers and volatiles appear all the time.

 

Most of us don't know the circumstances that led to his decision to move on - it happened in the middle of the night. But friends and family continue to honor his memory with new candles, crosses, flowers, a baseball, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary that rests, oh, so naturally, in the bark of the old pepper tree.

 

Someone stole the baseball a few months back, but they didn't dare mess with Mary, apparently, as she was still there as of this morning.

 

Today, a hawk stood guard looking down from an adjoining shady tree.

I am not a praying man much of the time - I am not even a Catholic, but I say a prayer for a peaceful transition and even cross myself nearly every time I go by.

 

Today, I skipped the prayer and genuflecting, and just thanked the hawk instead for taking up the lonely vigil.

 

And I bet that no one messes with him either.

 

She Left Us Something Wonderful

 

She Left Us Something Wonderful

Noel Laflin

8-29-24

My friend Robby took this outstanding shot of a Super Moon rising outside her home in the desert nine years ago. The post came up on my Facebook Memories today and it made me smile so much because it's such a sublime composition of sand, spent yucca blooms, and that glorious full moon as it breaks over the horizon.

 

Robby died a couple of years ago - and there's so many of us that miss her joy of life even as she spent her remaining years battling insidious kidney disease.

 

But she's very much alive in my mind as I once again gaze at what she captured here one night, so many moons ago.

 

"Leave something behind," poets and mystics advice us.

 

Aside from her steadfast friendship and warrior-like determination to beat the odds, Robby also left behind a most exquisite picture.

 

And for starters, that is not a bad something left behind whatsoever.

 

It's just the opposite.

Haunted by Humans

 

Haunted by Humans

Noel Laflin

8-14-24

I finished Markus Zusak’s novel, “The Book Thief” late last night and cried.

Again.

The final chapter brought fresh tears to a story that I have read at least five times over the last dozen years.

Now, some I know never read a book twice.

Some don’t care for books whatsoever.

Too many these days think it’s their moral obligation to ban books.

But I crave a good story – and when it’s good enough I feel no shame in reading it again and again.

I mean, Liesel Meminger read her first stolen book, “The Grave Diggers Handbook” thirteen times according to the narrator.

And the narrator, Death personified, read Liesel’s book thousands of time, or so he tells us.

So five readings is hardly a drop in the bucket.

I recommended the book to a former teacher of mine eleven years ago. I remember telling him that if he couldn’t make time for the book, the movie was still in theaters. It’s nowhere as good as the book, I told him, but it would at least give him the gist of the story.

He was a favorite teacher of mine and I thought it nice to direct him to the story of Liesel, Rudy, Hans, Rosa, Max, Death, and a fine assorted cast of supporting characters.

My former teacher called me a week later to yell at me for making him cry, as he’d just returned from the movie theater.

I remember making the man cry when I was Liesel and Rudy’s age, too.

It was due to a story that I had created about a son and his mother.  The summer school drama assignment was to read the piece to music.

With the lights darkened, the door closed, the summer heat held at bay outside, I choose Percy Faith’s haunting rendition from the movie “Westside Story” and spoke about a death.

Even at fourteen, I knew how to twist the heartstrings and wrangle an A for a final assignment.

“God damn it, Noel, you really know how to turn on the waterworks,” he bellowed, wiping his tears away as he quickly left the classroom, leaving the rest of us in darkness, the needle of the record skipping and skipping as it wanted to return to its resting place or at least play the violins once more.

I reminded him of the incident from forty-five years prior on the day he yelled at me (but in a loving way) regarding “The Book Thief.”

My old mentor would be carried away in the arms of Death a year later.

And then it was my turn to yell (but in a quiet, loving way) and let the waterworks flow.

To quote Death: “I am haunted by humans.”

 

 

 

Blood and Lies

 

Blood and Lies

Noel Laflin

7-22-24

 

When I was fifteen, and the boy I had fallen head over heels with was just shy of sixteen, we exchanged a ring for a watch and pressed bloody fingers together - "Blood brothers for life!," we swore.

 

I would have liked to have sealed the deal with a kiss, but he said he wasn't quite ready to do that again due to a lack of cheap alcohol at hand. So, kissing was off the table (due to sobriety), but the nicking and pressing of flesh was okay, apparently - and as the blade was clean (he held it under the flame of a Zippo just to make sure), and it would be another decade or more before the worry of tainted blood would even be a concern, we were good. We were both young and dumb anyway, so, of course, we were more than good. We were now brothers for fuck sake ... and, consequently, invincible.

 

Afterwards, when I took off my ring (it was silver, encircled with mythical thunderbirds) and put it on his right ring finger, and he, in turn, took off his watch (it even showed the date - how cool is that!) and put it on my left wrist, he leaned in close and whispered, "Kissing may be off the table right now, but lips placed elsewhere ... are still okay, just so you know."

 

I nodded enthusiastically and told him that I'd take the compromise.

 

"Kissing is so overrated," I whispered back.

 

Then I snuck one in when he wasn't looking.

 

I can be such a liar.

 

Some Noise is Hard to Mask

 

Some Noise is Hard to Mask

Noel Laflin

5-6-24

The sounds of a mighty battle taking place in our old pear tree at 2am today brought me out of a sound sleep.  The tree is only twenty feet from our bedroom sliding glass door – and with the door being slightly ajar this time of year to let in fresh garden air, well, one would have to be near-deaf to have missed the racket coming from its well camouflaged center.

The sharp screeches and screams (think of battling cats on steroids) were no doubt raccoons having a brawl up in those branches. Or, perhaps a raccoon and a opossum having a territorial dispute; I have witnessed those guys going at it before out back, too.  Consequently, I am not exactly sure who the second opponent was, but one of the fighters was definitely a young raccoon as I watched him fall ten feet from the tree, land on the edge of the big pond directly below, dust himself off (literally, as he was quite dusty and leaf blown, so to speak), run across the garden and scamper up the opposite garden fence and disappear.

Coming back into the house and noting the time on the bedside clock, I noticed that David had slept through the whole thing.

After 24 years, I know the fellow is not deaf nor nearly even near-deaf, but he’s definitely a sound sleeper.

When cleaning up the garden later this morning, I saw where the raccoon made his footing error in the tree, as there was a rotten portion of a branch above – now laying on the screen covering the pond - where he must have mistakenly made his last stand – quite literally – as it obviously gave way with him on it.

But, I am sure he’ll be back to do battle another night.

Wish I could sleep as soundly as David …

 

Birthday Remembrance

Noel Laflin

3-28-24

 

My friend Jeremy could have been celebrating his 61st birthday today, but the fickle finger of fate had other plans for him, apparently.

 

As it turns out, an insidious syndrome that snuck into the country somewhere in the late '70's (like a sneaky thief in the night), and steadily infected folks both young and old across the land, eventually found this particular young man, too, and laid him low at age thirty-three.

 

Some famous young men throughout history also died at thirty-three - Alexander the Great and Jesus both come to mind (and being Maundy Thursday, the latter fellow definitely stands out today.)

 

And although my friend was neither conqueror nor Messiah, he was a very sweet and loving guy in his own right, even if he never made the history books, let alone the scriptures.

 

But I remember him fondly, and just thought I'd like to share that with you all today.

 

So, here's to you, kiddo.

 

And if you are listening, you are still missed.