My OperaPelican-land
Friday, July 23, 2010 9:34:11 PM
Pelican-land
2172 words
Copyright T.J. Watts 2010
All right reserved
It was the first time I had ever seen pelicans on the lake. Ducks were plentiful with a few herons and a flock of ibis on the shoreline. Now there were pelicans, two great gray birds that flew with the grace of aerial acrobats and then swooped out of the sky like dive-bombers at the sight of a fish dinner. There were always two because as I had read somewhere, pelicans mate for live. No divorce in pelican–land, no dirty little affair to demolish trusts, no all-powerful pride to distort reasoning. I sat on the grassy shore for a long time and watched the two now floating in the gentleness of the water side by side, at rest in a world full of madness they knew nothing of.
It was early autumn in South Florida, a time of cool nights and sun-warmed days. I was learning to live alone in a new apartment by the lake after an end of marriage. We sold the house, split the pets up, closed the bank accounts, and went off on our separate ways in life. Our daughter was old enough to understand but, of course, she didn’t.
Living alone takes some learning after over twenty years of living with someone, but I was getting good at it. I was catching on to cooking and picking up the condominium code of conduct. All in all it was a good life, just a little lonely especially before dawn when you awaken and feel the other side of the bed cold and empty.
The best way to meet people and un-lonely your life in an apartment complex is to walk your dog. It’s almost a ritual. In a condominium, you’re either known by the car you drive or the dog you walk, cars being the much less personal of the two. I met Brenda when my boxer, Sam, sniffed the nose of her beagle, Precious. People and dogs are creatures of habit, and if you walk your dog at approximately the same time each day, you will meet approximately the same people. I made it a point to walk Sam at the same time that Brenda walked Precious. After a time, we just walked the two together. We talked about everything, or as it turned out, almost everything. Brenda was smart, witty, gorgeous, and, as it turned out, married to a great guy named Peter. They often invited me to their poolside barbecues and actively tried to pair me up with their unattached friends. I appreciated the thought , but the few times I did go, I ended up feeling like an unsold piece of the past at a garage sale.
At the urging of a friend, I tried computer dating. Now that is an interesting sport. You read profiles written by people who are desperately trying to sell themselves. You pick out one who’s inflated self image matches the inflated image that you described in your profile, and then you meet for lunch hoping that you don’t hate each other at first glance. I have heard personal testimony from many people who swear that computer dating is the key the eternal bliss. It didn’t seem to work that way for me. My experience was more like four lunches and four really nice women who I felt absolutely no connection with.
At some point in time you face the possibility that you must accept living alone. Not an awful concept, you have your work and television and chores and… Okay, you’re right. It is an awful concept, but it is what it is, as they say.
I bought a bike. Yeah, I’m a little old for a bike, but in condo-land it's not unusual. You ride around the complex seeing the same sights again and again. Maybe if you’re lucky, you crash into someone of the opposite sex who is roughly your age, and if no one is severely injured, your life may change. My only crash was a sandy slide on a bad corner around the lake. Don't worry; the only damage was a scrape on my knee and a slightly dented fender on the bike. We limped back home together counting our blessings and vowing to go back out there another day.
My next-door neighbors are Lisa and Morty, and they are getting up there in age. I stop by and help out occasionally, maybe change a light bulb or move something heavy. Since I can move heavy thing, change light bulbs and don’t play the television too loud after 8pm, they have grown to like me. And they have a daughter who is recently divorced for the fourth time. They got me with the old “you do so much for us, we want to take you out to dinner.” Not to accept would make me sound ungrateful, and I could always use a free mea,l although knowing how frugal Lisa and Morty were, I wasn’t expecting much.
The meal was as expected an early bird special at Denny’s, but the fourth dinner guest was a surprise. Lisa and Morty’s daughter just happened to be in town from New York City and joined us. Virginia should have been about my age, but her face had the tight skin of a thirty-year old. Her smiles were thin and well controlled. I wondered if something would pop if she smiled too broadly. She wore what I expect were expensive clothes, a lot of make up, and she didn’t stop talking from the time her butt hit the chair until I dropped them off at the elevator. They offered coffee and cake at their apartment, but I couldn’t stand the thought of one more story about the “Big Apple,” and how the rest of the world is so “provincial.”
When I had parked the car I decided to take the stairs back up so as not to bump into anyone before I was safely behind my locked door. I felt a little guilty because Morty and Lisa are such nice people, but sometimes you just have to think like a Marine: protect your self first and worry about collateral damage later.
I was really starting to envy those pelicans working together in the sunshine over clear water their only concern being their next meal. They seemed so serene. Oh, did I also mention that pelicans can’t talk? That, in and of itself, would probably lengthen any relationship. As a matter of fact, I believe that the inability to speak is the single most important reason that dogs are called “man’s best friend.”
I knew what the topic of conversation would be when I met Lisa at the mailboxes.
“So what did you think of Virginia? She thought that you were interesting.”
Interesting? I’m not sure I got two syllables out of my mouth the entire evening.
“She’s . . . . a really nice person,” I said.
“She’s coming back down in February. We’ll have dinner again, but this time it’s your turn.” Lisa laughed, but I knew what she meant. Not only would have to listen to the other “nine million stories in the naked city,” and I would also have to pay.
The weeks rolled by and then they turned into months. One night after work and a few drinks, I had a long talk with myself.
“Now see, living alone is not so bad. You have everything you need. You have friends. Yes Sam I know that you’re licking my face to show support. We’ll go out in just a minute. Without the distractions of another person in my space just think of the things I can accomplish. Just think…”
“Like what you moron? Plan on finding the cure for cancer or writing the great American novel or even learning to dress yourself in clothes that actually match?”
“I have potential, damn it. I can do things. Like…”
“You have the potential to be that weird uncle who never married, always drank too much at family gatherings, and ended up being put to bed or sent home in a cab.”
“I’ve only had two drinks.”
“Yeah, that’s what the weird uncle always said.”
Okay, so the long talk didn’t go so well. I decided to have another drink, watch the news and go to bed. That’s what I decided, but that’s not what was going to happen.
I was half out of my street clothes and half into my pajamas when the fire alarm went off. I almost fell down reversing the process. I looked around for valuables that I should probably take with me, scooped them up, grabbed Sam’s leash, and headed for the door. I was amazed to find my neighbors just standing by the railing looked over the parking. No one was rushing for the exits. They were all just standing there in a mixed match of robes and pajamas waiting for the fire truck.
“Took ‘em twenty minutes to get here last time.” Morty was in a bathrobe circa 1956.
“Bet they make it in under 17 this time,” My other neighbor said. “You’re not movin’ out already, are ya?”
The question was addressed to me carrying an armful of personal things, and trying to control Sam with the other hand before she licked everyone to death.
“I thought it was a fire,” I said like the only one who didn’t get the joke.
“Happens pretty regular. The elevator motor gets hot and sets off the alarm. We don’t go down anymore unless we see flames.”
My neighbor on the other side, Bill, was standing there with his wife of over fifty years. They both had a drink in their hands. She was chatting with the other women. He was timing the fire department.
I opened my apartment door and dropped my things on the floor. While I was trying to close the door, Sam pulled on the leash knocking me off balance and off toward the stairs.
“Gotta take my dog out. See you later.”
When we got down the steps and out into the parking lot, I was again surprised the rest of my neighbors talking and laughing as at a social gathering. Some I knew by name, some I had seen in passing, and a few where totally new to me even though we probably lived in the same building. Many where taking the opportunity to walk their dogs, some where chatting and some where just hanging out. Most had drinks at the ready.
Sam pulled me off into the grassy area on the side of our building. When she was done, and, yes, I picked it up, yuck, she wanted to play with the other dogs, and we went sailing back into the parking lot. Man walked by dog, or maybe better said, man dragged by dog. Sam met everybody, canine or human, I smiled and commented on the weather. A girl, let me stop here and say this: I know that calling a woman my age “a girl” my not be at all accurate, but it is the way I think those wonderful creatures who bring a bit of beauty into the lives of us guys.
Anyway, this girl dressed in a sweat suit that could not hide the fact that she was a girl, walked up to Sam. Sam was all over this. Sam did her little dance, licked and offered her body for petting. The girl smiled the most beautiful smile I or Sam had ever seem and asked me the condo question, “What floor are you on?”
“Um, right up there. I’m on four.”
“Are you the guy that drives the black Honda?”
“That would be me. I’m Tim.”
“I’m Johanna, nice to meet you.”
“Oh yeah, that’s Sam um . . . licking your hand.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“And so are you,” I thought.
The fire department arrived with sirens blaring and red light flashing. Although I’m not sure I even noticed at that point in time.
“I like to ride my bike in the evenings,” She said with the red rotating lights of the fire engine flashing across her pretty face. “Want to go with me some night?”
“I have a bike! I mean, yes. I’d love to.”
I still live alone, but I am riding bikes with the most interesting woman I know. We do it twice a week and sometimes we cook for each other, yes, she even smiles when it’s my turn to do the cooking regardless of how the food turns out. There are rumors in the building about us. We went in together on a gift for one of our neighbor’s anniversaries and they sent a card back asking why we don’t just move in together so they wouldn’t have to send two thank-you cards. It made both of us blush.
I watched the pelicans on the lake this morning. Johanna stood with me on the shore. We drank coffee sweet with honey and milk.
“Do you know that those birds mate for life?” I asked her.
2172 words
Copyright T.J. Watts 2010
All right reserved
It was the first time I had ever seen pelicans on the lake. Ducks were plentiful with a few herons and a flock of ibis on the shoreline. Now there were pelicans, two great gray birds that flew with the grace of aerial acrobats and then swooped out of the sky like dive-bombers at the sight of a fish dinner. There were always two because as I had read somewhere, pelicans mate for live. No divorce in pelican–land, no dirty little affair to demolish trusts, no all-powerful pride to distort reasoning. I sat on the grassy shore for a long time and watched the two now floating in the gentleness of the water side by side, at rest in a world full of madness they knew nothing of.
It was early autumn in South Florida, a time of cool nights and sun-warmed days. I was learning to live alone in a new apartment by the lake after an end of marriage. We sold the house, split the pets up, closed the bank accounts, and went off on our separate ways in life. Our daughter was old enough to understand but, of course, she didn’t.
Living alone takes some learning after over twenty years of living with someone, but I was getting good at it. I was catching on to cooking and picking up the condominium code of conduct. All in all it was a good life, just a little lonely especially before dawn when you awaken and feel the other side of the bed cold and empty.
The best way to meet people and un-lonely your life in an apartment complex is to walk your dog. It’s almost a ritual. In a condominium, you’re either known by the car you drive or the dog you walk, cars being the much less personal of the two. I met Brenda when my boxer, Sam, sniffed the nose of her beagle, Precious. People and dogs are creatures of habit, and if you walk your dog at approximately the same time each day, you will meet approximately the same people. I made it a point to walk Sam at the same time that Brenda walked Precious. After a time, we just walked the two together. We talked about everything, or as it turned out, almost everything. Brenda was smart, witty, gorgeous, and, as it turned out, married to a great guy named Peter. They often invited me to their poolside barbecues and actively tried to pair me up with their unattached friends. I appreciated the thought , but the few times I did go, I ended up feeling like an unsold piece of the past at a garage sale.
At the urging of a friend, I tried computer dating. Now that is an interesting sport. You read profiles written by people who are desperately trying to sell themselves. You pick out one who’s inflated self image matches the inflated image that you described in your profile, and then you meet for lunch hoping that you don’t hate each other at first glance. I have heard personal testimony from many people who swear that computer dating is the key the eternal bliss. It didn’t seem to work that way for me. My experience was more like four lunches and four really nice women who I felt absolutely no connection with.
At some point in time you face the possibility that you must accept living alone. Not an awful concept, you have your work and television and chores and… Okay, you’re right. It is an awful concept, but it is what it is, as they say.
I bought a bike. Yeah, I’m a little old for a bike, but in condo-land it's not unusual. You ride around the complex seeing the same sights again and again. Maybe if you’re lucky, you crash into someone of the opposite sex who is roughly your age, and if no one is severely injured, your life may change. My only crash was a sandy slide on a bad corner around the lake. Don't worry; the only damage was a scrape on my knee and a slightly dented fender on the bike. We limped back home together counting our blessings and vowing to go back out there another day.
My next-door neighbors are Lisa and Morty, and they are getting up there in age. I stop by and help out occasionally, maybe change a light bulb or move something heavy. Since I can move heavy thing, change light bulbs and don’t play the television too loud after 8pm, they have grown to like me. And they have a daughter who is recently divorced for the fourth time. They got me with the old “you do so much for us, we want to take you out to dinner.” Not to accept would make me sound ungrateful, and I could always use a free mea,l although knowing how frugal Lisa and Morty were, I wasn’t expecting much.
The meal was as expected an early bird special at Denny’s, but the fourth dinner guest was a surprise. Lisa and Morty’s daughter just happened to be in town from New York City and joined us. Virginia should have been about my age, but her face had the tight skin of a thirty-year old. Her smiles were thin and well controlled. I wondered if something would pop if she smiled too broadly. She wore what I expect were expensive clothes, a lot of make up, and she didn’t stop talking from the time her butt hit the chair until I dropped them off at the elevator. They offered coffee and cake at their apartment, but I couldn’t stand the thought of one more story about the “Big Apple,” and how the rest of the world is so “provincial.”
When I had parked the car I decided to take the stairs back up so as not to bump into anyone before I was safely behind my locked door. I felt a little guilty because Morty and Lisa are such nice people, but sometimes you just have to think like a Marine: protect your self first and worry about collateral damage later.
I was really starting to envy those pelicans working together in the sunshine over clear water their only concern being their next meal. They seemed so serene. Oh, did I also mention that pelicans can’t talk? That, in and of itself, would probably lengthen any relationship. As a matter of fact, I believe that the inability to speak is the single most important reason that dogs are called “man’s best friend.”
I knew what the topic of conversation would be when I met Lisa at the mailboxes.
“So what did you think of Virginia? She thought that you were interesting.”
Interesting? I’m not sure I got two syllables out of my mouth the entire evening.
“She’s . . . . a really nice person,” I said.
“She’s coming back down in February. We’ll have dinner again, but this time it’s your turn.” Lisa laughed, but I knew what she meant. Not only would have to listen to the other “nine million stories in the naked city,” and I would also have to pay.
The weeks rolled by and then they turned into months. One night after work and a few drinks, I had a long talk with myself.
“Now see, living alone is not so bad. You have everything you need. You have friends. Yes Sam I know that you’re licking my face to show support. We’ll go out in just a minute. Without the distractions of another person in my space just think of the things I can accomplish. Just think…”
“Like what you moron? Plan on finding the cure for cancer or writing the great American novel or even learning to dress yourself in clothes that actually match?”
“I have potential, damn it. I can do things. Like…”
“You have the potential to be that weird uncle who never married, always drank too much at family gatherings, and ended up being put to bed or sent home in a cab.”
“I’ve only had two drinks.”
“Yeah, that’s what the weird uncle always said.”
Okay, so the long talk didn’t go so well. I decided to have another drink, watch the news and go to bed. That’s what I decided, but that’s not what was going to happen.
I was half out of my street clothes and half into my pajamas when the fire alarm went off. I almost fell down reversing the process. I looked around for valuables that I should probably take with me, scooped them up, grabbed Sam’s leash, and headed for the door. I was amazed to find my neighbors just standing by the railing looked over the parking. No one was rushing for the exits. They were all just standing there in a mixed match of robes and pajamas waiting for the fire truck.
“Took ‘em twenty minutes to get here last time.” Morty was in a bathrobe circa 1956.
“Bet they make it in under 17 this time,” My other neighbor said. “You’re not movin’ out already, are ya?”
The question was addressed to me carrying an armful of personal things, and trying to control Sam with the other hand before she licked everyone to death.
“I thought it was a fire,” I said like the only one who didn’t get the joke.
“Happens pretty regular. The elevator motor gets hot and sets off the alarm. We don’t go down anymore unless we see flames.”
My neighbor on the other side, Bill, was standing there with his wife of over fifty years. They both had a drink in their hands. She was chatting with the other women. He was timing the fire department.
I opened my apartment door and dropped my things on the floor. While I was trying to close the door, Sam pulled on the leash knocking me off balance and off toward the stairs.
“Gotta take my dog out. See you later.”
When we got down the steps and out into the parking lot, I was again surprised the rest of my neighbors talking and laughing as at a social gathering. Some I knew by name, some I had seen in passing, and a few where totally new to me even though we probably lived in the same building. Many where taking the opportunity to walk their dogs, some where chatting and some where just hanging out. Most had drinks at the ready.
Sam pulled me off into the grassy area on the side of our building. When she was done, and, yes, I picked it up, yuck, she wanted to play with the other dogs, and we went sailing back into the parking lot. Man walked by dog, or maybe better said, man dragged by dog. Sam met everybody, canine or human, I smiled and commented on the weather. A girl, let me stop here and say this: I know that calling a woman my age “a girl” my not be at all accurate, but it is the way I think those wonderful creatures who bring a bit of beauty into the lives of us guys.
Anyway, this girl dressed in a sweat suit that could not hide the fact that she was a girl, walked up to Sam. Sam was all over this. Sam did her little dance, licked and offered her body for petting. The girl smiled the most beautiful smile I or Sam had ever seem and asked me the condo question, “What floor are you on?”
“Um, right up there. I’m on four.”
“Are you the guy that drives the black Honda?”
“That would be me. I’m Tim.”
“I’m Johanna, nice to meet you.”
“Oh yeah, that’s Sam um . . . licking your hand.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“And so are you,” I thought.
The fire department arrived with sirens blaring and red light flashing. Although I’m not sure I even noticed at that point in time.
“I like to ride my bike in the evenings,” She said with the red rotating lights of the fire engine flashing across her pretty face. “Want to go with me some night?”
“I have a bike! I mean, yes. I’d love to.”
I still live alone, but I am riding bikes with the most interesting woman I know. We do it twice a week and sometimes we cook for each other, yes, she even smiles when it’s my turn to do the cooking regardless of how the food turns out. There are rumors in the building about us. We went in together on a gift for one of our neighbor’s anniversaries and they sent a card back asking why we don’t just move in together so they wouldn’t have to send two thank-you cards. It made both of us blush.
I watched the pelicans on the lake this morning. Johanna stood with me on the shore. We drank coffee sweet with honey and milk.
“Do you know that those birds mate for life?” I asked her.
