Barbie Goes to Disneyland by Jennifer Gottesman

Sitting on the desk my father built into the picture window, Luz and I waited for the Disneyland fireworks to explode in the distance like we had done every summer for the past five years. From the second story of my bedroom we had a perfect view. The smog striated the July sky a thousand shades of orange and pink before drawing its night curtain. Waiting for the next show to begin, we watched rats scurry up the tree in my backyard to steal walnuts. While the rats got their dinner, I opened a little box record player that folded neatly into a suitcase. With one song per side, a single record just fit inside when you closed the lid. I struggled with the adapter, flattening the record and the adapter between my palms so it was even on both sides. Once it was secure, I gently laid the record over the spindle holding it by the edges. 

Luz was toying some extra adapters lying on the desk while I got the record in place, flicking them like tiddlywinks. She stopped and examined one more closely. The yellow disc, with three notches cut out of the sides, resembled a windmill. “Why do they make these things anyways?” she asked. “Why don’t they just make the holes in the record smaller so they fit on the player in the first place? Like LPs.” 

Shrugging, I said. “I dunno? Never thought about it before.” I lowered the needle in place. Barbara Streisand began singing to us about people who need people are the luckiest people in the world. Luz and I sang along, mimicking the lyrics like a broken record. 

 

At nine o’ five, the rats disappeared into the night as Disneyland pulled back the night curtain revealing brilliant purples, blues and greens making my backyard center stage, exploding color on top of color until our eyes blurred. 

“Ooh!! Aah!! Look at that one! It looks like a waterfall. I like that one best! Yeah, that’s my favorite, too!” As quickly as it came alive, the torpid sky fell dead again while wispy ghost fireworks drifted aimlessly before disappearing into the heavens. The show was over until tomorrow. Luz and I climbed off the desk and I walked her home. 

Disneyland. The happiest place on earth looms imminently a few miles north from the house where I grew up. My house isn’t there anymore.  It’s been bulldozed into oblivion by eminent domain. You know, when the government takes someone’s property for the better good of the community, for the sake of moving things forward. And now my house is nothing more than a parking lot. And all that’s left is the walnut tree from my backyard where the rats stole their dinner, its roots lifting the blacktop cracking and raising it up like the Smog Monster is going to break through any minute. I’m standing there right now under my old walnut tree looking across the street at Luz’s house, even though Luz has disappeared into the night like the fireworks. It’s a cute little house. And unlike my house, and my friend who used to live there, it’s still here.  

 

The first time I went to Disneyland was for my seventh birthday. Mom said I could invite a friend. 

“I wanna take Luz.”  

Luzelena lived on the other side of the street. Her house had twisted wrought iron spears covering their windows that her papi brought up from Tijuana in his pick up truck. She had a fancy screen door that was always locked and Luz wore a key to that door around her neck on a shoestring.  We never locked our front door. When Luzelena spoke to her mama and papi, I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Dad said that’s because they’re wetbacks. Her house smelled like dinner at lunchtime. I ate tongue at her house once. Her mama cooked it with tomatoes and onions and potatoes. It tasted like pot roast. My lunch smelled like canned tuna fish and potato chips. 

I heard Mom tell Dad once that Luzelena’s skin smelled like lard. All I could smell was the sun from Luz’s clothes where her mama hung their laundry and the steam from the iron. Luz’s house was littered with huge baskets of ironing that people dropped off everyday. Mrs. Chavez turned the wrinkled clothes into hangars of crisp, new garments that draped every doorway of their house. Freshly cooked shirts would appear like magic from the wrinkled laundry baskets. Mrs. Chavez sprinkled something that came from a Bubble-Up bottle with a dented cap to help tame the unruly creases. With a heavy iron with a long black cord that coiled upward and hissed like a snake, she pressed until each piece would submit under her heavy arm. Clouds of steam would escape from the bottom of the iron each time Esperanza Chavez pushed into the piece she was working on. Her feet, splayed and flattened on the bottom, from the pressure of standing all day resembled two little irons themselves.  Spilling out of the elastic straps that fastened her sandals, it pained me to watch her waddle down the hall on her tiny feet and strain to hook the hangar of a newly ironed shirt over the doorway using an unbent wire hangar to help her. I knew that she’d repeat that a hundred times more that day and every day except Sunday.   

All that ironing made the inside of Luz’s house hot and sweaty like a jungle in the summer. The best place for us to play was under the shade of an old magnolia tree in her front yard. Luz and I would dig in the cool dirt next to her father’s cars that were parked in the yard, making villages among the roots of the tree. Occasionally we’d feel the mist from the neighbor’s sprinklers and we’d lift our faces and catch some of the spray with our spoons to make mud.

At certain times of the day, the sun cast a shadow on the trunk of the tree and Luz told me she could see an image of the Virgin Guadalupe. “Don’t you see it? There’s her shawl covering her head…” Luz pointed to the shadows and light. “…her hands folded in a prayer, her long gown…see? It’s her! It’s a milagro!” I didn’t know what the Virgin Guadalupe looked like, so I’d follow Luz’s hand in the air as she traced the shadow on the trunk of the tree and tried to imagine what the Virgin looked like. I wanted to believe in her, but all I really saw were some leaves fluttering against the bark. And I didn’t know what a milagro was, but it sounded like a good thing, so I squinted my eyes and said, “Yes, Luz. I see it.”   

When I asked Mom about taking Luz to Disneyland, she explained, “Barbie, Luz is just… a playmate. Not the kind of friend you take to Disneyland. How about if we take your cousin Cindy instead since her birthday’s next week?” 

A gift had arrived for me by mail earlier that day. It was a dress from my Aunt Ruth. She always sent me something awfully nice for my birthday. I wanted to wear it with my patent leather dress shoes to Disneyland. Mom wanted me to wear my black and white saddle shoes instead. But they didn’t look cute with the party dress I wanted to wear.  Mom didn’t want me to wear the dress either. She said I would boil in it. She’d laid out a yellow one piece thing she’d made on her sewing machine called a sun suit. It was babyish. We argued. I won. It was my birthday. 

I paraded out front in my new dress until it was time to leave. Across the street I saw Luz squatting in her dirt yard crouching behind a car, digging holes with her spoon. She peaked up from behind her papi’s car, looking at me suspiciously. I waved to her. She stared back at me.

“I can’t play with you today, Luz,” I reminded her. “I’m going to Disneyland… with my cousin Cindy.” She went back to digging her holes without saying a word.

“Do you like my new dress? My aunt sent it to me. Don’t I look beautiful?” I twirled around so she could admire the dress from all sides. She looked up briefly, squinting before dropping her spoon and running into her house.  

The Happiest Place on Earth

The first thing I saw was the sign spanning across the entrance. Cindy and I clapped our hands together in excitement. Princesses for a day.  Each of us holding one of Mom’s hands, we skipped towards the ticket booth. 

Back then, they still used ticket books with A, B, C, D & E tickets. You got a lot more A than E tickets and everyone knows that E tickets got you on the best rides. But when you’re seven, it doesn’t matter. 

A bell from a train sounded, followed by a long hiiisss as steam escaped from the bottom of the train. “All Abbooarrd!” The deep distinctive sound resonated around the park throughout the day. First Mom took us on the train as it went around the entire park so we could see everything. Then we could decide which rides to go on. 

While waiting in long lines for rides we’d swing on cool metallic rails under the shade of eaves. Cindy and I played while Mom shooed us ahead periodically. Inside, the rides were dark and cool and scary. Once outside again, the sun was bright and burning. It felt odd to be in daylight once more, like coming out of a movie theater from a matinee. It seemed like it should be dark everywhere, not just inside. 

Finding our way out of the rides, we were forced along with hoards of people who bottle necked into crowds crushing us against Mom’s dress. Suddenly the crowds would disperse for no apparent reason only to grow again like some alien beast with a mind of its own. 

I got sick from spinning around on the Tea Cups and throwing my head from side to side like Cindy did. It didn’t seem to bother her though. Whatever the case, it stuck with me far longer than I wanted it to, long after the ride ended.  The day’s rising temperatures didn’t help my nausea. I wanted to sit down but there didn’t seem to be anywhere to be able to do just that. No grass. No shade. Even the few benches where I could rest were full of people. Why do they call this place a park when nothing about it resembles a park at all?  

By midday, the July heat was intolerable. Diesel fuel clung to the back of my throat. Steam from the train mixed with the rising heat from the pavement made the walk from Fantasy Land to Tomorrow Land unbearable. Turning a corner the smell of chlorinated water and a fine mist near the Matterhorn offered a spurt of cooling relief. I wondered if Luz was sitting under the cool shade of the magnolia tree.

My pretty dress was sticking to my skin. I wanted to rip it off. But I didn’t dare complain to Mom. Instead, I used the ¾ length sleeve to wipe my brow and fanned my legs with its heavy hound’s-tooth skirt. A bead of sweat above my lip tasted salty when I licked it. My feet hurt. Cindy was sensibly dressed in shorts and a sleeveless cotton top. On her feet, she wore plain white sneakers with cotton socks. I envied her. I tried curling my toes up to make the shoes tighter so they wouldn’t rub in the back. This helped for a while. But I couldn’t keep walking like that for long. I could see the babyish sun-suit lying on my bed. I came up with the brilliant idea of asking Cindy if she’d like to trade outfits with me while we were using the bathroom. Surely Cindy would like to have a chance to try on my pretty dress. Mom overheard us talking and put a stop to my plan and accused me of being up to one of my shenanigans. 

I could hear the clopping of a tired horse. I watched the horse plod along with its heavy mane shading its eyes. Each leg would rise and fall as if its hooves were laden in cement boots. Black mouse ears bounced up and down polka-dotting the horizon distorted from the heat waves. A woman in a full skirt that fell to the ground whooshed past in a hurry looking as though she lived in the past. The breeze she created with her skirt cooled me for a brief moment. A princess I recognized from a movie happened by along with giant stuffed animals; stifled mimes who’d allow you to shake their hands or hug them, but didn’t utter a peep. The smell of popcorn permeated the air making me hungry and telling me that my motion sickness had passed. Mom bought us a bag. While passing the bag back and forth, I dropped it. A man in white collected our spilt popcorn scraping his flip-up dustpan against the black top as he scurried around like Chip or Dale hording nuts. 

Just beyond the giant castle, a merry-go-round was grinding itself like a bore into the ground. It anchors the center of Disneyland. Underneath this circulating anchor is a secret city that no one knows about. It’s a place where workers scurry under the park like chipmunks moving nuts around in a tree to make the magic happen. Food service people hauling tons of food in carts, retail clerks exchanging cash tills, ride operators coming on and going off shift, taking breaks, characters resting out of costume, maintenance crews keeping the rides operating; service people, cleaning crews, cashiers, accountants, and controllers counting the tens of thousands of dollars in cash, supervisors and management all coordinating the orchestra. All the under workings of the park happen here in order to make things function properly and operate smoothly. Yet it’s the very part that Disney doesn’t want the public to see. It all happens in underground tunnels, a little city built especially for the behind the scenes. A whole world no one knows about. To you and me, it doesn’t exist. 

The merry-go-round’s beautiful white horses were painted with pink flowers moving around and up and down while landscape scenes in the center, which although they stood still, appeared to be twirling in the opposite direction. The effect was mesmerizing. I wanted to go on this ride most of all. The eerie music racked against my ears pulling me in as if by some mysterious force. Although the song was familiar, it didn’t sound the same as when I’d heard it before. The tinny chords were distorted like the mouse hats in the heat. Unlike the Tea Cups that spun out of control, this slow kind of circular motion had a hypnotic, soothing affect on me. 

It was about this time that my feet hurt so badly that I was unable to walk without hiding my limp. Mom noticed and insisted we go to the first aid office, which was right next to the Merry-Go-Round. When the nurse took off my shoes, we all noticed my socks soaked with blood. The blisters had broken and were so bad that band-aids were not going to help. 

“Those are some nasty blisters,” the nurse said, looking at Mom. “She really shouldn’t have worn those shoes, you know.”  Mom was busy examining the insides of my shoes. 

“Have you got a pair of scissors?” Mom asked. 

The nurse dug around in her first aid kit and came out with a pair of utility scissors. Taking the scissors, Mom cut the back seam of one of my shoes up the back. I put my hand over my mouth. “Put this on,” she said. I did as I was told. 

“Now, walk around,” she said. The shoe flopped a little in the back. But for the most part, the strap held it in place. She did the same with the other shoe. The nurse looked amused.

 “It’s either this or we go home,” Mom shrugged. “I don’t have that kind of money to throw around, do you?

“No…but then, I don’t have money to throw away a perfectly good pair of shoes, either,” said the nurse.

“I just split the seam,” Mom said. “Any good shoe repairman can fix that!” 

“I suppose you’re right,” the said nurse. 

 “Besides, we’re celebrating two birthdays!” Mom said, looking at Cindy and me.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” the nurse looked at me and Cindy in mock surprise. She went into the back and came out with two striped lollipops. She handed one to me and one to Cindy that more than made up for the spilt popcorn. 

After we left the first-aid office, we rode the Merry-Go-Round. My feet didn’t hurt so much anymore. When we got off, I lost Mom and Cindy. I kept running around and around. They ran in one direction and I followed, never catching them. I panicked. Finally, Mom had sense enough to stop. It seemed like forever before we found each other again. I was sobbing by the time we all met up. 

As the day wore on, it cooled off and my dress finally felt comfortable again. 

Yellow and Red bulbs hanging from loose wires lit up buildings that aped the late sky. Tinkerbelle, in a spot of light, got our attention making us look up. Following her, I heard the sound of music. 

A loud voice said, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls!”  

POP! POP! POP!  Those same fireworks I’d watched from my bedroom window thundered directly above me.

With every POP, my whole body shuddered. My broken shoes grabbed the pavement. My heart shot into my throat! I felt fireworks rumble through my whole body, but my eyes wouldn’t let go of the sky!  I looked at my cousin standing next to me and I wished Luz were here to see this, to feel it in her feet. I wished I’d made a stink and insisted on taking her instead of wearing these dreadful shoes and this hot dress. 

A lump the size of a walnut was stuck in Luz’s throat all day. And now that the sun was sinking behind the rooftops and the sky was changing to its sunset color, she felt as though she’d swallowed it whole and it was sitting in the bottom of her belly. Even though her mama sent her older brother, Angel, to find her and tell her that supper was ready, she didn’t feel like eating. She went to her room instead and picked up her Barbie doll from the floor and sunk onto her bed. Luz studied the Barbie doll’s pinched face and Spockish eyes while stroking her fake blond hair, which she tried to make go back into a ponytail with her hands. But it wouldn’t stay. The hairpiece had broken. Barbie doll’s shoes were long gone, perhaps buried somewhere in the closet or simply lost. Luz bounced the Barbie doll up and down on her aching tummy with her pointy feet still arched in a high-heel pose, even though they were bare, pushing the doll harder and harder into her belly trying to make them flat like real feet creating chicken pock marks across her stomach. When the doll didn’t comply, she threw it across the room and it landed head first in a basked of ironing, buried to her torso, with her bare feet sticking out in their pointy pose and her arms protruding backwards with her hands and fingers molded together as though she appeared to be cupping something. 

When Luz heard the first POP of the Disneyland fireworks go off in the distance over her friend’s house, her head was already buried underneath her pillow. She swallowed the tears that had welled up in her brown eyes and choked them down with her thumb and hiccupped herself to sleep.  

Meanwhile, Luz’s Barbie doll wiggled her way to the bottom of the clothes pile like a mermaid. She squeezed through a hole in the basket, then through a knot in the wooden floor slats and disappeared under the house. She was forgotten in the dust next to the floor furnace along with a brigade of stiff green army men, some marbles, a baseball, and a dead cat named Willie who’d belonged to the previous owners of the house. 

 “Now, where is our car?” Mom wondered out loud. “Didn’t we park in Donald Duck? Or was it Goofy?” Cars left, opening up parking spaces. We waited. “Aha! There it is!” Mom said as she dragged us by our tired arms towards the sedan. Behind the driver’s wheel, she sat forward pumping the gas while turning the key. Bessie, our ’57 Chevy, finally sputtered to life. It was one the last cars to leave.

Crisscross on top of each other in the back seat, Cindy and I slept while Mom drove home. I didn’t hear Mom pull Bessie into the narrow driveway of our house on Washington Street. The car door creaked open on its rusty hinges and Mom shook me awake. She led me upstairs to my room still asleep and after tucking me into bed, she pried the sticky lollipop out of my hand and tossed it in the garbage along with my broken shoes.

KEEP DRIVING

Life is like a long journey a car goes through with many bumps along the way
How we all wish for a smooth straight drive
Picture the pretty scenery through the window
The sun always shines and the birds chirping along to the tune in the radio
No sudden halts and dangerous curves in the road
Just the calmness and serenity in the air keeps the car moving
But that’s only what we can wish for, right?

So, the real road ahead has not one but many diversions
The bumps that come our way are unexpected and ones we can’t foresee
Sometimes, the path is dark and lonely – we get lost
Dirt patches ruin the body of our car and brings down our self image and reputation
Road signs and maps tend to lead us to nowhere
We ask for directions but get led to places we don’t want to step foot on
Occasionally we come across traffic jams – God testing our patience through time
Our self esteem, faith and hope is weakened by pot holes discouraging us to move forward
Crossroads cause us nothing but confusion – not knowing which way to turn
And how can we forget meeting in accidents!
Some lead us to the loss of life, jobs or friendships
But from some we recover – get a shiny new coat and oil the engine!

It’s in times like this that we need to remember that God is in control of the steering wheel
He’s the one driving it and leading us towards the right destination
When facing those situations where pillars lie in our path or the car breaks down
Let’s not press the panic button and fear the worst
But break those pillars down and take the car for a service
God does the exact same thing with our hearts
He fills it with the Holy Spirit, re-fuelling and pumping up the engine to face the toughest of times
It’s only through the working of the spirit in us
That we are all geared up to meet tomorrow’s challenges

So let’s buckle up for the drive ahead
Use the bible as our map
Jesus as our navigation system
The holy spirit as our fuel
Start the ignition with a rock solid prayer
Accelerate and keep driving towards the journey of life!

An Excerpt from This is The Beginning by Christine A. Watson

I wake up to the sun shining on my face through the slats of the blinds. I stretch and smile at what this day is bringing. Finally. I look over at the clock on my nightstand and see that it’s nine thirty.

“Whoa, I slept late. I can get used to this.” I say to the room.

I kick the covers off and jump out of bed. I’m so full of energy, revved up and ready to get this show on the road.

Of course I still need a coffee fix. I make a cup of French Roast and sit on the couch in front of the television while drinking it. I flip to HGTV to see what’s on and it’s the Carol Duvall show. I enjoy crafts and I’ve always wanted to take up quilting, so I’m enthralled in watching a guest show how she makes a certain patch for her quilts. Once my cup of joe is consumed, I wash the mug and place it back into the cabinet.

“I better get dressed. It’s ten and Phil could wind up being a bit early if he is as excited as I am.” I shower and lotion and once finished toss the bottle into my bag. After I’m clothed I sit at my vanity and put on the earrings I sat there last night. I stare at my face in the mirror. My skin looks good and my eyes are very clear. I look healthy and happy. I’m pleased with what I see. My hair is disheveled but it only takes a few strokes of the comb to straighten it out.

I remember then that I need to put a few hair scarves into my bag as well so that I can keep it tied up in the hot tub. Oh yeah…shoot! I forgot my bathing suits. I don’t have time to try them on so I just pick out a few that I think will still fit. None of them are very homely looking, they all have some appeal to them so I don’t even worry about them being too revealing or not. “Oh well…I’ll just hope for the best.” I say to my suitcase and shut it for the last time. As soon as I do, the doorbell rings. My heart jumps with excitement and I almost run to the door. I look out the peep hole and my heart sinks right into my stomach. It’s Matriece.

I’m so put off that I slap my fist into the palm of my other hand, then pace by the door in anticipation. I know I have to open the door. I know I have to send her away. I don’t want Phil pulling up and seeing the drama my life seems to attract. I take two very deep breaths. She rings the door bell again.

I open the door and we lock eyes. She doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Finally, I’m the first to speak.

“What?” I say in a calm, cool tone.

“I messed up.” She says.

I roll my eyes at her.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“Go away.” I tell her.

“I said that I’m sorry.”

“I said go away. And I mean to go away for good, don’t ever come back. You are no longer welcome in my life Matriece. I don’t need your little childish tantrums. I don’t know what you’ve been smokin’ but I suggest you run back to your girlfriend and harass her instead of me. I am so serious.” I say in a controlled manner. It’s getting hard for my temper to remain calm.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She gave me something…she burned me. Come on Symone, we’ve been friends for too long to let this come between us.”

“Friend went out the window the day you started tripping on me at your apartment. Showing out for your little nasty girlfriend. Go away.” I say with command. I give her my evil eye and she bows her head, her eyes to the ground.

“I don’t have anywhere to go Symone. I lost my place.”

I hold back a laugh.

“You think this is funny?” She asks hurt.

“Yes. Now go before I call the cops on you for trespassing.”

We stare at each other for what seems like forever. The air is heavy with the tension between us.

“I guess I was right about you. You are an uppity little bitch. And to think I wanted you for myself all these years. You ain’t nothing, you barely have a heart.” She spits out.

“Are you serious?” I ask incredulously. “All the times I’ve helped you. All the times I gave you money or food because you were hurting! Helping you get your apartment, helping you get a car, then you totaled it in a stupid rage over some man! You are your own worst enemy Matriece! Don’t blame me for all your silly mistakes! Your biggest mistake with me was taking me for granted. I am no longer your friend… Don’t forget that. Now, go...away…and…never…come…back.” I say the last sentence so meticulously to avoid any mistake of my sincerity.

We stare at each other once more. There is so much emotion inside of her. I see anger, frustration, fear and regret written on her face and scorched deep in her eyes. She knows she messed up something and can’t make it any better this time.

“You are going to regret this.” She says with a snarl.

“I doubt that.” I say back to her. I refuse to let her have the last word after all she’s put me through.

She turns to walk down the steps. She looks good to be homeless. She’s wearing a three quarter length black leather coat. Outfitted for winter with tight black leggings, boots, hat, scarf. She doesn’t look homeless to me.

As she’s walking away I see Phil turn the corner and he drives up to my place and parks next to my car. I watch Saucy walk slowly away. She turns and looks back at me and she sees Phil get out of the car. She shakes her head then turns around and continues her trek. I can hear the salt crunching under her boots with each step she takes.

I look at Phil and relief floods through me. The iciness in my veins melts and my heart is now pounding fast for him. He comes up to me and opens the screen door. He walks in and hugs me tight. I try not to cry, but I can’t help myself. The frustration and disappointment I feel towards Matriece spills out of me. I cry and Phil holds me.

“I’m sorry. What a way to start off the trip, huh?”

“It’s okay. It’s best to get it out now and that way you won’t have to worry about it later.” He says comfortingly.

He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.

“You are so good to me.” I say to him.

He smiles and gives me one final tight squeeze then lets me go.

“I’m assuming she’s the friend you fell out with?” He asks.

“Yes, she just showed up on the doorstep this morning.” I say while carefully wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Do you feel that you all have finally come to a close?”

“I do, I don’t know if she does though. I can’t believe her nerve of showing up here after all she’s put me through.” I shake my head back and forth in disbelief.

“Well, if you are done with her and you told her that, there’s nothing more you can do.” He rubs my arm with his hand then lifts my chin so that I’m looking at him. He wipes my cheeks with his fingertips. “Go on and get ready. I’m going to take you away from here a while and when we get back I will help you through everything. Go on and wash your face. I’ll be waiting in here.” His words are kind and comforting.

I do as he says. I walk back to my room and into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and I look a mess. My eyes are pink and so is my nose.

“Great.” I say to my reflection.

I take a washcloth and put it under warm water. The heat is soothing and I feel my body relax.

“That needed to happen.” I tell myself. Unfinished business is always just that. And I don’t do well with things being open ended. I’m glad I was able to tell her to stay away from me to her face. It certainly got the point across.

I hang up the wet cloth and head into my room. I pull my moisturizer and make-up out of my toiletry bag and sit at the vanity to re-apply. I look better now. Fresher. I’m ready to go. I take a deep breath and head back into the living room with my bags in tow.

When Phil sees me he smiles and jumps out of the chair to help me with my bags.

“You look like you are feeling a bit better.” He says while picking up my suitcase and taking the toiletry bag out of my hand.

“I am feeling better. I have you to thank for that. I’m ready to go.” I say cheerfully and give him a great big smile.

“That’s my girl.” He kisses me briefly on the lips. He then crooks his body over like my suitcase weighs a ton and says playfully, “Dag, what do you have in here?”

I give him a look that says ‘you have got to be joking’.

“I’m just playing.” He says smiling. I smile back at him and then laugh. I can tell we are going to have a great time.

“Well, is this it? We’re all set?”

“All set.” I say. “Let’s roll.”

I lock up the house and follow Phil to the car. He places my bags into his trunk. It’s a very cold day, but the sun is shining and there is no precipitation. It’s perfect traveling weather. The grass has a dusting of snow that glistens in the light of the sun. A feeling of peace overwhelms me while I watch the twinkling snow. Phil comes around and opens the car door for me. I smile and get in. He gets into the driver’s seat and we are on our way. I take a deep breath and smile. I look down at my ring and feel the comfort of my parents as they accompany me on this journey.

River of Life

One hot summer day in Cincinnati, Ohio, my college girlfriend and I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather by taking a road trip to a river so we could go canoeing. We packed a cooler with cold beverages, some munchies, and a change of clothes in case we experienced an unplanned swim.

During the two hour car ride, we reminisced about our shared experiences. We were filled with anticipation and excitement and were looking forward to our quickly approaching adventure, in much the same way a child looks forward to opening Christmas presents on Christmas Day. We quickly put on our life jackets, climbed in our rented canoe, and paddled our way from the shore onto the wide open river. As we gracefully glided down the pristine waters, I paused for a moment to enjoy the beauty of the scenery around us. A feeling of peace overtook our souls. We were simply there to enjoy our time together. Life was good.

The tranquility of the moment was shattered as a shift in the direction and strength of the wind caused us to quickly drift closer to the shoreline at an alarming rate. As we bumped along the riverbank, the flow of the water became stronger and caused us to lose control of the canoe. Without warning, the canoe tipped, and dumped us into the water. The cool water covering my body brought a welcome refreshing sensation to my skin-baked skin. Just for a second, time stood still.

The serenity of that peaceful time was short-lived as a strong current came and separated my girlfriend and I, sending us downstream in different directions. I was now completely alone. Adding to the feeling of isolation was the horror when I realized I had not made it to the surface and had to continue to hold my breath.

As I tried frantically to reach the surface, I realized I was no match for the untamed power of the river. As I traveled downstream underwater, a sickening feeling came over me. I realized I was trapped under the water, the life jacket which I thought would help this situation was now acting as a weight pinning me helplessly under the water. I was now at the mercy of Mother Nature.

After what seemed like an eternity to me, I reached a point in the river where the water was calm and I was able to stand. I feverishly scanned the area searching for my lost girlfriend. Spotting her a short distance away, a feeling of relief came over me. I was grateful to be reunited with my girlfriend and although we were soaked to the bone, we were both thankful to be alive. We shared a wet, yet loving embrace. What started out as a quiet, enjoyable trip down the river, turned out to be a life altering experience.

***

As this story demonstrates, sometimes we are not in control of the path our river of life takes. We may think we are in charge of our own destiny but in an instant, an event can change the course of our lives forever. This canoeing trip was one memorable experience I am sharing with you. The rest of this book contains stories about the places which have created special memories, the events which have altered my perspective about the meaning of life, and the people who have made a difference by guiding me down my river of life.

SUPER TUESDAY by Lyndie Blevins

Ben’s Tuesday Evening

 Brown Palace Hotel - Denver, Colorado  

Ben Johnson scanned the jovial crowd in his suite watching the networks reporting the results of the day’s primaries.  He had planned to spend a quiet afternoon with a handful of campaign workers and supporters in the comfortable Eisenhower Suite. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a noisy and spirited crowd.  With each new announcement of results from exit polls or precinct tallies, a cheer rose from the gathering.  At the same time, Ben was having trouble grasping the reality of the day.  He had dominated all twenty-two Super Tuesday primaries.  He and his campaign manager and best friend, Gary Rose, had planned to determine their strategy for the rest of the year based on today’s results, which included his home state of Colorado.  They never thought it would be this easy.  Today’s overwhelming wins seemed to be setting a very definite course for him for the rest of the primary schedule and ultimately for his nomination as the Party’s candidate for President.  Of that fact, he was pretty clear.  Shaking his head, he asked himself, “Then, why do I have such a bad feeling?”  From the TV coverage of the hotel’s Grand Ballroom downstairs, he could tell that his victory party was in full force and the alcohol was flowing from the bar stations.  Seeing Gary being interviewed in the ballroom on one of the television, Ben felt very alone in the ecstatic crowd. Suddenly, it was time for his entrance to the party.  He put his candidate face on and went with the rowdy crowd down to the ballroom.  In the room, the feeling something was wrong had encircled him in a trap as he made his way to the podium.  He gave a rather routine but grateful victory speech, thanking everyone for their support and confidence.  As a Senator, one of his greatest strengths was discerning the mood and response of any crowd he was addressing.  His stomach was tightening as he sensed no one was really listening to him.  He hoped Gary was listening somewhere in the room.  Scanning the faces in the ballroom, he felt a wave of horror fill him. It wasn’t the crowd’s response that brought him fear.  It was their actually faces.  Quickly, he recognized the faces of most of his opponents and some of the party leaders.  They were celebrating and drinking at his expense.  No wonder no one was listening to him.  This could not be good.  Amid all the excitement of the party, the sinking feeling he had all day now overwhelmed him. He brought his speech to a swift conclusion and immediately found he was having trouble breathing.  He ducked out of the ballroom and snuck past Chet Brown who served as the head of his security and often as his driver.  He left the hotel in one of the team’s black Escalade and started driving.  He needed some fresh mountain air.

* * *

Up the Mountain from Denver, Colorado

      At first, Ben thought he would drive out of the city.  It wasn’t long before he knew he was going to the top of a mountain.  For whatever reason, it seemed like the first right thing he had done all day.  Yet, as he drove into the scenic overlook’s parking lot, he asked himself, “What am I doing here?” 

     He walked from the car to the overlook area and took a deep breath.  As the crisp, clean air filled his lungs, he felt a world of anxiety leave him.  He turned his collar up around his neck.   At first, he found himself full of resentment for the timing of his rise to the top of his party.  How could he be sharing the same time in history with the most popular Presidential incumbent?  He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs to the brilliant starlit sky, “This is not fair! This should be my time, my destiny!”  Looking up at the stars, he realized he had actually raised his fist to the sky.  For a moment, he actually felt that the gods of history had set him up to be a sacrificial lamb, a time marker for his fellow retreating candidates.  He couldn’t believe his place in history would be as the second opponent that President Phillips had crushed.  A defeat as sound as the one delivered 4 years ago would leave him with less than a footnote on an American Presidential Elections chart.  He was broken-hearted.  He knew his disappointment wasn’t about the lost of the Presidency.  His desire was to make a difference in the world.  There was so much he felt he could offer.  This current scenario developing for his life seemed to offer no more than playing out a role.  This time, with fists raised to the evening sky, he couldn’t help himself and cried out, “What is the deal?”

     At that moment, he sunk to his knees as he realized he was really crying out to God.  “Whoa”, he said.  Praying was the last thing he thought he would be doing this evening.  “Wait,” he said again, “that’s not right.”  Actually, the thought of prayer had never crossed his mind, well, not for a long time.  Suddenly, his pulse was racing.  Even though he was out in the open, he couldn’t breathe.  His head was spinning.  What did he expect?  His praying was bound to cause him to have an anxiety attack.  He put his palms flat on the ground and forced himself to breathe deeply.  He closed his eyes and quietly said, “God, what does this mean? Can You be reaching out to me?”  In the quiet of the mountain evening, a breeze crossed his face.  Sitting crossed legged on the mountain top, he felt peace flow over him that flushed out every ounce of anxiety from him.  Before he knew it, he was speaking, “Lord Jesus, I don’t know what to do now.  The truth is I am reaching out to You.”  He closed his eyes.  He could see a seven year old version of himself sitting next to his grandmother in church.  He remembered exactly how he felt the morning when he asked Jesus into his heart.  But that time was so long ago.  He thought he had changed too much to ever go back to that day.  Yet, here he was.

     In his political career, he had always been glad he left his Christian heritage behind.  It was not that there was anything wrong with that way of life.  It just didn’t work in the fast paced, cut throat life of national politics.  He didn’t want to be obligated to anything, including preachers, doctrines or supreme beings.  He built his reputation and career by following his instincts and his personal beliefs.  No one dictated how he voted or what agendas he supported.  The last thing he would ever want was to have a bunch of preachers telling him how he should he should think, how he should feel, how he should vote.  More than that, he didn’t want some Higher Power influencing him, either.  Yet, here he was, just him and God.  And he, himself, had just called on the Lord Jesus.

     On one hand, he was unsettled by the deep sense of total peace that was falling over him.  He could not ignore this peace or the implications of this peace for him.  He knew it was not the altitude that was affecting him.  His breathing was calming down, and that frightened him, too.  Taking a slow, deep breath, he said out loud, “Alright, let’s get to it.  Father, God, You have brought me here.  Although for the life of me, I can’t understand why.  How I am going to understand what You would want or what You could do about my current situation?  We, I mean, the public, are being told constantly how President Phillips is Your man.  I would think that he would have full Your attention.”  At that thought, he gulped, “Up oh, what if he is not in Your camp after all?  What would that mean to me?”  He felt his stomach drop.  He felt another crisp wind across his face.  This brought his focus back to the view of the brilliantly lit starry sky.  He saw in the heavens, for the first time in a long time, how much order there was in God’s universe.  There was something very calming about that order to him.  And, the calm caught him by surprise.  Actually, he was unnerved.  He felt something change in him.  The order he was seeing all around gave him a new foundation.  When he glanced at his watch, he was surprised how much time had gone by.  He was not ready to go back to his life yet, but he was also suddenly very tired and cold.  He knew that there was nothing on the schedule for tomorrow.  His campaign manager, Gary Rose, never planned an event for the day after a primary.  He pulled out his blackberry and sent Gary a text that he was tired and need some time alone.  He would call him tomorrow.  He turned off the blackberry, without checking his messages.  He knew Gary was celebrating too much to miss him tonight anyway, even if he was the actual candidate.                    

     For another moment, Ben looked at the sky, the trees and the view below.  He took another breath.  For the first time that evening, he noticed all the different scents in the air.  He heard the quiet noises that were all around him.  He shook his head and walked back to the car.  Not far from where he had stopped, he had seen a motel with a lit vacancy sign.  He drove back to the motel and booked a room for the night.

     The room was simple but comfortable.  He had picked up an emergency travel care package with a toothbrush and razor at the registration desk.  He sat down on the bed and put his hand on the nightstand.  For a minute or two he nervously drummed his fingers on the stand’s top.  He wanted to open the drawer, but he knew what he would find.  Even though the urge was great to do it, on the other hand, he didn’t want to open the drawer.  It wasn’t long, though, before his fingers had moved down the front of the drawer to the handle.  He slowly pulled opened the drawer.  He took out the Bible, and placed his right hand on the cover.  He closed his eyes for a moment and said out loud, “Okay, God, here I am.”  His thumb moved down the edges.  He opened the book, fairly randomly, so he thought.  His eyes fell on this verse:

 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.    Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.   You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

Mumbling “God has a plan”, he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Ben only thought he slipped by Chet, his security chief, at the Victory Party.  Chet followed Ben at a distance.  He sensed his boss needed some time alone.  Watching Ben on the mountain, his heart began to break for the pain he saw in Ben.  Chet always had a soft spot for Ben.  He had been around enough politicians to know that what happened tonight in the ballroom was not normal or right.  Chet bowed his head, and began to pray for his agonizing employer and friend.           

* * *