In the Dark

 

In the Dark

Noel Laflin

8-10-22

When the movie Charly came to our local theater back in the fall of 1968, I remember calling a girl who had quietly followed me behind a church on our walk home from junior high one day, just a few months earlier, and helped school me in the art of kissing. After that, we practiced on several more occasions, progressively getting better, in my opinion anyway, which would eventually lead me to calling her months later regarding the movie.

Then we parted for the summer, as I would be away, and we stayed in touch by letter.  SWAK appeared on the back of envelopes and I was both happy and embarrassed when fellow adolescent mail call attendees caught sight of faint pink lipstick impressions below the acronym, and hooted with either pride or envy in my unlooked for accomplishment. I remember quietly pulling an older guy aside, trusting in his confidence, and asking what SWAK meant.  He laughed, and then saw that I was serious, so told me. I was all of fifteen and should have known better, I concluded at the time. But now I look back on my naiveté with both fondness, and sympathy.   

Autumn finally arrived and so did high school, something new for each of us, as she attended the newer modern one, and I, the older one, no thanks to district realignments.

But, once home from a summer in the mountains, and getting acquainted with a new routine, I picked up the phone, exchanged pleasantries, and proposed the idea of a real date: would she like to see the movie in question, I asked, fully expecting a positive reply.

Oh, thanks, she said, but she had already seen it – just the other day.

Curious, I asked if it had been with her family. My family and I attended many movies together, I reasoned.

Hesitation on her part before answering, no, it was with a friend.

Her name, I shyly probed, hoping it was a she.

It was not a she, but a he, and it turned out to be my best friend, who just happened to be going to her school, too, now. “He’s nice,” she sighed.

Dripping with both jealousy and disappointment, I said, “Oh, okay.” and that was the end of our call, not to mention the short-lived romance. It would prove to be the end of my friendship with my former best friend too, although I never revealed the reason behind it. I just let new friends and schools slowly draw us apart.

But as I really wanted to see the movie, I asked my brother if he could give me a ride downtown in order to catch the show.

My brother thought it strange that I wanted to see a movie alone, but as I was determined to see the flick, gave me a lift and said he was sorry that he couldn’t accompany me. He had a date himself in a little while.

That hit home, but I did not let on.

And so I remember sitting in the theater alone, a first for me, and dwelling on betrayal on two fronts.

But as the movie unfolded, and the sad story progressed to its final conclusion, I was glad I was by myself that night, as tears quietly ran down my face for Charly, a mouse named Algenon, lost love (albeit a fleeting one), and lost friendship.  

I think that last loss hurt the most, as I had a long time crush on that best friend and suddenly pictured him sitting beside me in that dark movie theater where no one saw me cry; but it was something that I would never tell him either.

Reward

 

Reward

Noel Laflin

7-27-22

Three ravens landed on the edge of the old fountain in Irvine Park yesterday. I was just a few feet away but they paid me no never mind. There was an adult and two juveniles - the kids acted like any rambunctious children vying for attention.

 

Then the older raven dipped its beak into the water and produced a soggy acorn, which he/she held out to the youngest bird.

The kid looked enraptured and was thusly rewarded with the treat a moment later.

Pathways

Pathways

Noel Laflin

7-26-22

There's a pathway in which adults must duck by way of entry, so I imagine it was created by generations of children running helter-skelter through the oaks as they have no undoubtedly done so for over a century.

I duck through here often, nonetheless, as the sight of hawks frequently roosting in the beautiful canopy of branches high above is reward enough for the inconvenience of trees trying to, and in my case, frequently, relieve me of my cap.

Better the trees than the hawks.

Smiles and Faith

 

Smiles and Faith

Noel Laflin

7-6-22

Our friend Leo showed up bright and early this morning to start work on replacing an old section of fence that blew down during a Santa Ana Wind earlier this year. I righted the blown out section immediately afterward and jerry-rigged a workaround to hold it in place, but was happy to see a professional, not to mention the friendly Leo, bearing tools and replacement boards.

“Leo,” I said, “it’s good to see you my friend, but please no more baby hummingbird gifts this time, okay?”

As you may recall from a previous musing, it was Leo who found the orphaned kids abandoned in the street back on Memorial Day weekend as he was coming round to repair our front door (there is always something in need of fixing around here). He brought the two youngsters to me as he thought I knew something about the raising of an orphan bird or two.

I didn’t, but that was of no concern to Leo.  He had faith, apparently.

It all worked out well, in the end, but was a tremendous amount of work keeping one of the tiny kids alive for two weeks.  She, who David named Lucy (as in a diamond in the sky type Lucy), flew off to new adventures sometime in mid-June after her recuperation/revival.

Upon my pronouncement this morning about not bringing any more orphans our way, Leo merely smiled (he’s always smiling, by the way) and simply replied, “It was not me, my friend,” and then pointed upward.

“You’re saying God sent them to me?” I responded.

“Si,” he answered, still smiling, as he proceeded downstairs to start on the fence.

If God does work in mysterious ways, as some claim, then Leo is a fine messenger, as he is a man of both smiles and faith.

And he’s going to build us a fine new fence too. I’ve got faith in that, to be certain.

 

 

 

 

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

Noel Laflin

6-20-22

Amazon didn't deliver the immature hummingbird to our door - a construction worker who nearly stepped on her in the street did that.

We were not sure what caused this little lady and a sibling to be stranded there, so we placed them close by to where the fellow had first found them, out of danger of being run over, and waited for their mother to find and feed them. That's what normally works and is the recommended strategy for any young bird in a similar situation. I have witnessed this with both hummingbirds and finches firsthand.

We waited, and waited for the mother, switching up locations, back and forth across the street, thinking that might lure her in with the pitiful peeping going on. Many mature hummingbirds darted by, but none paid the pair any mind.

Hours passed, so I kept the two hydrated with sugar water, but the mother never came.

A neighborhood cat did lurk nearby, licking her chops, which made me wonder if she was the culprit that may have found the nest, causing the kids to fall and maybe doing in the mother. It was all speculation on my part, but I couldn't think of a better explanation at the time.

The other sibling could fly short distances, including up onto the roof of a neighbor's house, and eventually that was the last we saw of her. She was also pretty young and in need of more feeding, but disappeared as evening drew near. This one was younger and not capable of flight.

As it was late on the day and no rescue site was available, we punted.

I upgraded a plastic syringe for an eyedropper and began crushing mealworms to add to the sugar water, as protein was desperately needed.

With the help of Amazon's overnight delivery, we were soon adding more protein (in the form of crushed up small whole canned grasshoppers) to the sugar water base. A bee was added to the mush the next day. Grinding up bugs is so much fun. Feeding her every half hour is also a challenge - but a gratifying one at that. Thank goodness they sleep (torpor) when the sun goes down.

An eyedropper by which to feed her was eventually replaced by a small hummingbird feeder (overnight delivery to the rescue once again) and the kid began to thrive. It was not a short process and there were moments that I despaired for her survival.

But, she lived, and grew stronger, which was the goal in order for her to take flight and make her way back into hummingbird land. David suggested we name the critter Lucy, as in Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. As the sky is what we three were shooting for, I fully endorsed the name, and that is how we will always remember her.

Two weeks later we last saw the scraggly kid flying about the garden, seeking ever higher trees and further distances. Another mature female hummingbird didn't like her in her territory and eventually drove her off, just like their own mothers do at a certain point when they figure they can make it on their own. We last spotted the kid heading due east.

Life is a jungle out there. But sometimes you just have to bulk up, rest up, then take a leap, spread your wings, and hope for the best.

And there is a certain small diamond in the sky that my eye will always be seeking.

Not Letting Go

Not Letting Go

Noel Laflin

6-15-22

Following the graduation ceremony our family went out for Chinese food (my request) and afterwards I slept at my brother's apartment for a few hours before we hit the road for Yosemite.

Two nights later my brother saved my life by risking his own to pull me out of a near-death experience at Waterwheel Falls, into which I had fallen late at night.

There's not much that I remember about the graduation ceremony itself two days earlier, but having a brother's hand reach out to me in the most timely of fashion a mere forty-eight hours later, and not letting go, will never be forgotten.

It was, in retrospect, the finest graduation gift of all.

"Love First, Teach Second"

 

“Love First, Teach Second”

Noel Laflin

6-5-22

Last night was the perfect evening for a garden party – and the party was a perfect tribute for a beloved high school teacher’s retirement.

More than a hundred folks showed up, young and old alike.  Many had been her students throughout her thirty-four year career of teaching English and Literature. Some dated back to her first classroom, while others only graduated days ago.  And then there were all of those who spanned the years in between.

Fellow teachers, administrators, neighbors, friends, and family also came to pay their respects and to wish her well in retirement, where she will now have the time to read the books not necessarily on a district’s curriculum, but ones that she has been putting off getting to for way too long.    

There were some fine speeches.  One of my favorites was delivered by her son, who described what it was like to be a student in his own mother’s English classroom during his last semester in high school. Ben led off by quoting Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …” And with those opening words, there was tremendous laughter. It was the perfect introduction to an impassioned, heartfelt tribute to the woman as teacher, mentor and mother. As I was standing by the boy’s father, I asked Michael if he knew what his son had prepared to say. He did not. But he beamed with joy.

A common theme touched upon by every speaker was Marjie’s mantra throughout her career, “Love first, teach second.” 

The reciprocated love showered upon her last evening was proof that this is not necessarily a bad way of going about one’s job – but perhaps the best.