THE ANGEL
Bill and I had been friends since 7th grade. Best buddies. We were now starting high school. BUT… a new school had been built, and guess what? I was literally 20 feet inside the north boundary. So we were going to different schools, despite the fact that he lived approximately 25 houses north of me, on the same block. At least our friends are evenly divided, I thought. Bill would be going to school with Victor, John, Joy, Laurie, Leslie, Keith, Neil, Jim and Irene. I would be going with Ron, Paul, Dave, my namesake (and by the way, many called me Junior in those days, we had seven David’s on our block alone, and I was the youngest)… oh yes… and Linda, Debbie, Wendy, Gord and Richard.
Bill softened the blow, when he said to me… “There’s always weekends, and after school. We can still listen to Herb Alpert records.”
That was consoling too. We both had every record the Tijuana Brass ever recorded, and we were junkies… but he was getting “hip” and recently started to listen to Gary Puckett and the Union Gap. “Young Girl” and “Woman, Woman”. Ickkk.
It came to mind that we were entering a new chapter in our lives. The last spring before high school. I looked my bedroom window. My room was at the end of the hall at the rear of our modest bungalow. We were highly elevated and I looked out over the Humber River valley. It had stopped raining, a pretty heavy downpour. The sun’s rays were intense despite the mistiness. Suddenly, like a spotlight had been aimed through a giant prism, the biggest rainbow I had ever seen arched before me. I turned away and looked back again. Yes… it was real.
I immediately called Bill. “Have you seen it, Bill?”
“Ya, my Mom just yelled at me to come take a look. Holy crap.”
“There’s a message in this Bill. It’s asking us to find out what’s at the end. If it’s a pot of gold, we’re rich, if it’s something else… uh… well… we have to find out.”
Bill always thought I was a bit of a nut-bar, but he seemed to go along with me, most of the time. And sometimes I would say to him, “Think how boring your life would be if your best buddy wasn’t half screwy.”
“I don’t know about half,” he would reply.
So we discussed our excursion. “What should I wear?” he asked.
“Oh, I figure a raincoat at least. Rubber boots I guess. Maybe sunglasses. Not positive really.”
An hour later Bill arrived, resplendent with an oversized yellow raincoat, his Dad’s size 11 and a half boots and a red plastic fire-engine hat, a relic from the past.
You look pretty silly Bill, I said. Bill laughed. “You should talk!” He was right, I had on an old blue canvas overcoat, a paisley rain hat, and running shoes wrapped in plastic bags.
I surged ahead, leading the way. I had no idea how to get there, other than to walk directly towards the rainbow’s end that seemed to disappear into the horizon.
I said to Bill, “Maybe it ends somewhere in the valley. It must be down there somewhere.” Bill nodded.
We followed the shore of the winding river and turned a sharp bend. A small man, dressed in green, with a bright red beard stopped us.
“Wir dya think yer headin’ you dodgy muppets.”
We both stood very still, nervous, and unsure what to say.
Bill spoke. “Nowhere really, sir. Just thought, maybe, we could check out the rainbow.”
“Are ya serious? Well lit me tell ya lock-hard. Yer not goin’.”
“OK.” I said quickly, ready to turn around.But before we did he seemed to change complexion. He asked us why we wanted to go on the rainbow. I explained that we had seen it, and thought it was a special message to us. I eloquently said, surprising myself, “I felt that it was a spiritual calling, and a colourful beacon to our future.”
The gentleman, who must have been a leprechaun, his pipe and striped socks being the most convincing characteristics, was overwhelmed.
“By gum… yir almost a hatchet. Yer can go… but don’t touch anythin’. If yer do, I’ll have to reef ya.”
“We won’t, we won’t!” I made it very clear."
The walk was amazingly easy. We were going uphill, but it seemed we were self-propelled, by a magic motor, deadly silent I might add. It was strange too; we had no sense of time. It seemed like we got to the top of the rainbow in minutes, but considering the size of it, it must have been days. And we weren’t even hungry.
Bill then made a suggestion. I wish I had have thought of it. “I wonder if we can slide the rest of the way?”
“Gee, that would be fun. Dangerous maybe.”
“I’m game. If you’re game.”
I couldn’t resist the challenge, but wasn’t exactly sure where to put my… bum. It was not a very clearly marked path.
Well, there was no need to even push off. ZOOM. Like two boys on a rainbow!
We flew off the end, just like we used to in the playground. We then looked around, and found ourselves in the ravine, in the exact spot where we had met the leprechaun.
“Well, so much for that,” I said with disappointment.
“Well, at least it got us home safe and sound.”
“Ya, I guess,” I said.
Then, before us, a blinding white light crystallized into what looked like an angel.
“I am Iris, the Goddess of the Rainbow.”
Bill and I looked at each other.
“We must be dreaming,” I said.
“No, you are not dreaming.” said Iris.
“You are home, but on the flip side.”
“What... the flip side? Sounds like we’re talking records.”
Iris chuckled. “Uh… not exactly. When you take a ride on the rainbow you end up on the flip side. The mirror image. Everything will look the same… and seem the same. But it is not.”
Bill jumped in, “Not? What do you mean it’s not?”
You will know in time. I assure you. A message will come soon.
I asked, “Can’t you just tell us.”
“No, I am forbidden. The message has been put in someone else’s hands. Someone from your world. Your new world.”
A week later Bill and I decided to rent a move, Red River if I recall. We ordered chicken balls from the Moon Palace. Bill smothered his with red sauce. Not sweet and sour sauce… the real RED stuff, with grenadine and ketchup. I preferred not... thank you very much.
“Let’s see what our fortune is.” Bill said.
I'll read mine first. “You now have the power to rid all worlds of war.”
“Mmm, heavy,” said Bill.
“What does yours say?” I then asked.
“Holy crap,” said Bill. “Exactly the same thing.”
“Oh my God, it’s the message Bill. THE MESSAGE. I think we’d better call Wonder Woman.”
DeaBeePea 6-28-17
I wrote this for the OLD MOVIE page...
Editorial...opinion only
"Vulnerable"
I have seen hundreds and hundreds of interviews with actors and about actors. And almost every time...someone makes a comment about vulnerability. As if an actor is great because their "vulnerability" shows through. Well, the fact is that every human being is vulnerable. If we weren't we would not be human beings. And if an actor does not show vulnerability, they would have to be pretty bad actors. Of course, we love to try to explain great acting...but the fact that we can never quite put our finger on it, is what makes it most fascinating. Suffice to say, good writers are skilled at showing us the story, not telling us, so it might be said that good actors do the same, they show us a feeling, idea, or response, that
allows us to relate to our own experiences, and then we translate that to a reaction. This allows us to form a "relationship" with the character...some sort of empathy. We often see actors, in particular Clark Gable, in the films of the thirties, play a character who is totally in control, victim to no one, afraid of nothing, and calm under fire. This was the writing, not the acting. And film was usually an evolution from a tough hero, to a vulnerable hero. Clark Gable was a great actor, but not because he showed vulnerability. All good actors can do that. Gable had the ability to characterize in a way to play with our imagine, and to create interplay with a view of ourselves, our dreams and our illusions.
So the next time someone refers to vulnerability, regard it as a failed attempt to answer the mystery of great acting.
DBP 10-28-14
Sackville News
After the death of her uncle, Miss Martha Smith, 28, of Upper Sackville, received word yesterday that she has attained proprietorship of his restaurant "Flippin' Jack" which is located on 101 Silver Birch Dr. in Lower Sackville. Jack R. Montrose passed away two weeks ago at the age of 73. He was the popular owner of "Flippin' Jack" which was a rustic pancake house, with a wonderful assortment of flapjacks and crepes and truck driver breakfasts.He was respected for his community service and will be missed by everyone in Lower Sackville and his patrons. Miss Smith was interviewed earlier today.
"I was very surprised at this appointment, that was dictated from his will. I did enjoy working part-time at the restaurant, and he made sure that I was trained in all areas as well, from cooking to managing. Initially, I had reservations about this great responsibility, but I then realized that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. However, with all due respect to my uncle, who I dearly loved, I have decided to update the restaurant and change its decor quite extensively. Business was slowing. He had his faithful regulars, but at times, business was very slow. The first change I am going to make is...
FINISH THIS IN about 4 paragraphs 250-320 words. Think about what you would do if you had the chance to start up a restaurant. If you want to be REALLY studious... look at demographics.
Demographics
Population 15,409
Private Dwellings 8,515
76.4% single detached homes
15% University educated
Married Couples 72%
Average Family Income 51,451
Largest occupation sector...trades, transport, equipment operation
Mean age 47.2... largest group 50-54
Ethnicity...
Eurpean second generation 12.5%
11.7% Eastern Europe
7.1% Western Europe
3.2% Central Europe
17.8% Great Britain
4.1% Other
Visible minorities 16.9%
West Asian 11%
South Asian 11%
Latin American 9%
Chinese 23%
Korean 6%
Black 40%