My New Life

This is a favorite line of mine, from the Stephen King novella Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.   It is the last line of the book.

________________________________________

I find I am excited, so excited I can hardly hold the pencil in my trembling hand. I think it is the excitement that only a free man can feel, a free man starting a long journey whose conclusion in uncertain.

I hope Andy is down there.

I hope I can make it across the border.

I hope to I see my friend and shake his hand.

I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams.

I hope.

___________________________________________

I am leaving Louisiana forever and starting a new life in Idaho Falls.

January 31, 2019

My plan was to leave before 9:00 a.m.  The first leg of my trip is Plaquemine, Louisiana to Wichita Falls, Texas.  Everything was packed and ready to be loaded into my Outback.  One variable, though, and that was my cat, Cinder.  Cinder, although sweet on his own terms, couldn’t be picked up and handled.  So, the plan was to lure him into a large dog carrier with catnip and a laser pointer. 

That failed miserably, as the one time he went in the carrier, he shot out the door right before I closed it.  The problem there was he would now never voluntarily go into the carrier, probably not ever.  Solution: the nuclear option.  I put the dog carrier on its end, with the door up.  Cinder, being ever the sweet cat, obligingly got in my lap when I sat down.  Now it was time to betray every ounce of trust he has in me.  I grabbed him by the scruff, and in one swift movement dropped him in the carrier and closed the door. He reacted as expected, throwing himself against the carrier and crying.  Surprisingly enough, he settled down quicker than I expected.

I loaded up the car, placing Cinder’s carrier directly behind my seat, so he could see, hear and smell me.  Perhaps that would make the trip easier.

The drive to Wichita Falls was uneventful.  I thought wistfully about the hundreds of times I made the drive from Baton Rouge/Plaquemine to Bossier City and how this would be the last one.  So many memories.  I stayed pretty much on schedule, reaching Dallas just as the evening rush hour traffic began.  It wasn’t so bad.  One perk about the Outback was the navigation system which was quite effective.  I reached Wichita Falls around 7 p.m. and checked in.

Cinder was the best cat!  He meowed only a few times, and for the most part just chilled out.  I made sure the hotels I stayed at were pet-friendly, which worked out well.  I brought his carrier up to my room, and gave him food, water and a litter box. 

February 1, 2019

The next leg was from Wichita Falls, Texas to Castle Rock, Colorado.  On my first trip to see my brother in Idaho, my parents and I drove almost the same route.  The only other time I went that way was for a band trip in high school.  The west Texas and New Mexico desert was as beautiful as I remembered.  Once I crossed from New Mexico to Colorado, the mountains started.  I had forgotten how magnificent they were.  It was difficult to keep my eyes on the road.  Cinder, once again, was a wonderful cat – just enjoying the ride.  The towns are far enough apart here that even though I might be at half a tank of gas, I fill up if I’m passing through a town.  The last thing I need is to run out of gas.

Once I arrived in Castle Rock, I thought it best to get Cinder a smaller litter box. He didn’t use it yesterday, and I thought the reason was the litter box was too bulky for his carrier.  PetSmart in Castle Rock had a disposable litter box, which was a little bit smaller.  That did the trick, as he used it to pee.  I was mildly concerned that he didn’t poop, though.  I entertained the thought of going to a vet in Utah if he didn’t poop by the next day. 

February 2, 2019

From Castle Rock, the next part was north to Wyoming, then West to Ogden, Utah. Again, the scenery was magnificent.  I encountered snow, but not much.  When planning my trip, I made a contingency plan for alternate routes in case of winter weather.  Fortunately, that was not necessary.  The weather, other than a little snow, cooperated beautifully.

After arriving in Ogden, I located the PetSmart there and bought another disposable litter box.  My concerns about visiting the vet were unfounded, as he pooped during the night. 

February 3, 2019

The last leg of my trip was a short trip from Ogden, Utah to Idaho Falls, Idaho – my new home.  There was a little bit of precipitation, but it was warm enough it didn’t ice up the roads.  I left later than usual to allow for it to warm up and made it to Idaho Falls in the early afternoon. My house was just as I remembered it.  The cot I brought inside was still there, so at least I’d have a place to sleep. I brought everything inside, and put Cinder in the main bathroom with food, water and a litter box.  That worked out well, as I could use the basement bathroom. So nice to be home!  One final trip, though, is to fly back to Baton Rouge next week to get Will.

February 6, 2019

Will, my other cat, is a special-needs cat, which is why I couldn’t bring him with Cinder.  He had a trauma, perhaps being hit by a car, which injured his nerves on his back side such that he can’t go to the bathroom by himself.  This means that I have to express his bowels and bladder twice a day for the rest of his life.  It would be somewhat difficult to do this in a hotel, so I decided to fly Will up. 

I had an early flight to Baton Rouge to pick up Will.  The flight was uneventful. I arrived in Baton Rouge around 7 p.m., picked up my rental car and went to the hotel.

February 7, 2019

Will was boarded at Jefferson Animal Hospital, who have been angels as far as keeping Will when I had to go out of town.  It was sad, saying goodbye to the folks at Jefferson.  The brought Will out in his new carrier, which was a soft-sided carrier that would fit under the seat.  Will is such a chill cat, he didn’t care about what carrier he was in.

Will has made the drive from Jefferson back to Plaquemine many times.  He was probably confused when I didn’t take the exit across the Mississippi River bridge.  Sorry, Will, we’re going to the airport. 

At the airport, I was quite nervous about taking Will through security. When I read up on procedures for traveling with a pet as a carry-on, I discovered that you had to take the pet out of the carrier so the carrier could pass through the x-ray.  Well, I was mildly alarmed at the prospect of holding Will for however long it took to check the carrier. Fortunately, I watched some YouTube videos that mentioned the Transportation Security Administrative folks would let you take your pet out in a private screening room, if you requested it.  About a week before I left Louisiana, I made a trip to the Baton Rouge airport and spoke with the TSA folks there.  They confirmed to me that they would allow me to take Will out of the carrier in a private screening room.  Well, that allayed my concerns one hundred percent.

Because I was venturing into uncharted territory as far as travling with a cat, I wanted to be sure and be at the airport at least two hours before my flight in case something went wrong.  My flight was at 12:30 and I think I arrived about 9:30, which wasn’t a problem.  I checked Will in at the ticket counter and received a special tag to put on his carrier.  The TSA checkpoint went just as I researched.  I took the carrier into a small room and took him out of the carrier.  He let me hold him, relaxed, while he just looked around.  He didn’t struggle get nervous.  They brought the carrier back, and I put him back in. 

We waited at the gate for a few hours, and Will was just as cool as could be.  He didn’t fuss or cry at all.  My good luck continued on the plane for the flight to Atlanta.  In fact, for the whole trip, Will meowed maybe once or twice, but not on the flight.  He might have been concerned about the strange sounds and smells in the Atlanta airport, which caused him to meow.  I joked to myself that he smelled the food in the airport and was hungry. 

Unfortunately, the flight from Atlanta to Salt Lake City was delayed, but not so long that I was going to miss my flight.  If I did miss my flight and was not able to take another, I already decided to rent a car and drive the three hours to Idaho Falls.  That didn’t happen, as the flight arrived in SLC in time for me to catch my final leg to Idaho Falls.  The final leg was a short flight, and I arrived in Idaho Falls about 10 p.m. 

As before, Will was an absolute angel.  He handled the whole trip wonderfully.  My theory is that he could see me, hear me and smell me so he knew that he wasn’t alone. 

Since he knew I was with him the whole way, there was no reason to be concerned.  He has been such a wonderful part of my life, I’m glad that I am such a comforting part of his.

The Idaho Falls weather greeted us with snow and temperatures about zero degrees.  I can only imagine what Will was thinking.  The coldest he’s seen was probably about the mid-twenties, so I’m sure this was a shock.  I put him in the car and turned the heater on full blast.  Since I was parked outside, there was a layer of ice I had to scrape off.  The one thing I forgot to bring was gloves, but I managed to scrape enough of the ice off before my hands froze.  The car defroster did the rest. 

I had bought a cat tree and a bed to put in Will’s room, so hopefully it wasn’t so strange.  He loved his cat tree in Plaquemine and sitting in it watching the outside through the screen.  It was the same here, only Will is inside, and he can watch through the window.  I put him in his room and shortly later, expressed him. It was a quiet, uneventful and wonderful trip.  Everyone was home.

Eclipse

On November 18, 2013,  this was my blog entry.

And, it happened, just as predicted.  I was in Idaho, visiting my brother, and we saw it from his friends' house in Menan Buttes, just north of Idaho falls.

The weather was perfect.  It took a while from the moment the moon started to obscure the sun until totality, but what a show.

It was worth it.  I may never see anything in nature so spectacular.   I'm already looking forward to the next one, in 2024.

The Girl with the White Parasol

There's a famous quote from the classic film Citizen Kane by Mr. Bernstein:

"A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn't think he'd remember.  You take me.  One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off.  A white dress she had on.  She was carrying a white parasol.  I only saw her for one second.  She didn't see me at all, but I'll be a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl."

I only recently saw this film.  It has been hailed as a masterpiece, perhaps the greatest film ever made. I'll leave that discussion for the film students and critics.  It was a great film, and I appreciated the story and filmmaking technique.  That line, however, struck me.  After the film was over, I got to thinking - what is my "girl in the white parasol" moment?  A snapshot of something that I saw, or something that happened that turned out to have no meaning in my life, yet I'll never forget it.

It doesn't have to be a snapshot, though, or a brief encounter.  "The Girl in the White Parasol" can be the sum of moments, or an opportunity not taken, or a period of time that you never will forget.

That time was spring through fall 1984.  I met a girl in class, and, well, I was rude and a king-size jerk.  There was maybe some chemistry there, or from what I could tell as a twenty-year-old boy. But I blew it.  I saw things that were not there, perceived slights or dismissals that were nothing of the sort.  I gave up.  I withdrew. I tossed aside what was very possibly the best thing that happened to me in my young life.  The years passed.  In my "Girl in a White Parasol" moment, I would think of her from time to time.

My mother lives in an assisted living facility.  After a few years of living there, she, my brother and I decided to sell the house I grew up in.  While getting it ready for sale, I went through many notebooks, papers, and other things from my high school and senior years.  In a manila envelope, in a safe place, I found the letters that girl from 1984 wrote me that summer.  We exchanged letters while we were apart.  As I read them, I so wanted to go back in time and shake the 20-year-old me until my teeth rattled.  She was such a beautiful and sweet person, and I was so clueless.

I'm sure everyone has moments like these, moments they wished they could go back and do things right.  This, for me, is more than that.  I want so much to reach out to her, to say how sorry I was, and to hope she was blessed with all the happiness and warmth she deserves.  As for me, there will always be that moment, that chance in time lost forever.

The episode "Darmok" of Star Trek: The Next Generation - a Different Perspective

"Darmok" from Star Trek:The Next Generation is pretty much a consensus "top 10" episode on the list of Trek fans, and it is a fantastic episode with some wonderful ideas and themes.

In it, the Enterprise crew encounters aliens who speak in words we can understand, but their language is made up of metaphors that are common to their culture and way of life, but about what our crew knows nothing.  So, for instance, when the aliens say "Darmok and Jilad at Tenagra" in trying to establish communication, well, unless we know who or what Darmok, Jilad and Tenagra is, we haven't a clue as to what they are saying.  Both the Enterprise crew and the alien crew are frustrated at their inability to communicate with each other.

So, the aliens' captain, Dathon, transports himself and Picard down to a planet and makes it so they can't leave.  They must learn to communicate with each other in order to survive a dangerous creature native to the planet that is trying to kill them.  

However, I just came to the realization of what an insensitive person Captain Dathon is, at least from the mindset of a person interested in the welfare of animals and not causing them grief. Lemme 'splain.

We can assume that Dathon knew there was a dangerous animal on El-Adral IV.  I don't think he would kidnap Picard and send them both down to a planet where they would have weeks to learn how to live together before they would succumb to starvation.   No, Dathon needed a deadly threat and he needed one right now, that would affect Picard and Dathon shortly after they transported to the surface.

Let's look at this from the point of view of the animal they face on El-Adral IV

Imagine, on earth, you are a grizzly bear, perhaps a sow with a couple of cubs.  You are minding your own business in the Montana wilderness, hundreds of miles away from people and civilization.  All of a sudden, two people with weapons show up in your territory.  The bear doesn't know who these people are, or what their intentions are. Her instinct is to protect her cubs and herself from harm. So, she watches.  The two intruders don't leave her territory, but instead set up a campsite.  At this point, and throughout the episode, we’re given no indication that the animal Picard and Dathon face is any different from something like a grizzly bear, with similar instincts.  It’s not evil or sadistic, or wishes to do them harm, like Armus from the episode “Skin of Evil”.  It’s just an animal that is native to El-Adral IV.

Keep in mind that there isn’t any interaction between Dathon/Picard and the animal on El-Adrel IV until the next morning, when Picard found Dathon gone.  Dathon returns a few minutes later, breathless, urging Picard to help him defend themselves against this animal.  What did he do during this time?  Did he go seek out the animal, who was content to watch them and leave them alone?  Did Dathon attack the animal first, or taunt it?  Keep in mind that Dathon’s plan was for himself and Picard to have to work together to protect themselves from this animal.  His plan wasn’t going to work until the animal became threatening to them, and the animal wasn’t a threat until Dathon apparently went to find and perhaps confront it. 

Let's throw in the variable that Captain Dathon's ship put up some kind of "invisible fence" to keep the animal from leaving.  After all, that was what Dathon's plan was all along - to have him and Picard face a deadly threat to force them to understand each other and work together.  If the animal could simply take her cubs and hightail it out of there, then Dathon's plan wouldn't work.  So, not only do we have the possibility that the animal is worried about her safety and the safety of her cubs, but now when she tries to leave, she can't. That would make her even more desperate to protect herself and her cubs.

I realize that is farfetched, to think maybe that the El-Adrel IV creature was a mother protecting her offspring, but even if it wasn't, it still was an animal, minding its own business, when all of a sudden it is faced with two strange, dangerous creatures who just might be trying to kill it.  It also doesn’t attack them until it is sought out and possibly confronted by Dathon.

The premise of the episode is wonderful - to have a common obstacle which forces two people who can't communicate into doing so.  I'm just concerned that they did this at the expense of a clueless, otherwise nonthreatening animal who is minding its own business, who only becomes dangerous when its territory, safety, and perhaps the safety of its offspring is threatened.

Brief Sounds

Some years ago, in the magazine Rolling Stone, I read a review of Bob Dylan’s album Blood on the Tracks.  In it, the writer spoke of the song “Tangled Up in Blue” and said that it “borders on the metaphysical of how lost love haunts lives”.

That statement, powerful in its truth and simplicity, sums up the gift that music has given humankind for thousands of years: its ability to elicit an emotional response. 

I’ve listened to music all of my life, and been moved emotionally by many songs and music pieces.  Never has one compelled me to sit down and write about it as this one has.  It is a song called “Brief Sounds”, written and performed by the Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter Kris Angelis. 

“Brief Sounds” perfectly captures the angst and heartbreak of a relationship.  Ms. Angelis’ lyrics are powerfully emotional and moving in its storytelling.  To borrow the line from the Rolling Stone review, this song borders on, and perhaps dwells in, the metaphysical in telling its story.  It is, simply put, a beautiful song.

From the very first line, you, the listener, are made a part of and feel the emotion of the storyteller:

“I felt so high, but I was shy

then you turned dry

and I wet my life

with tears I cried

you always liked drama.”

In this song, the storyteller is deeply, madly, and passionately in love with someone, but the other person doesn’t totally return that love, neither was the other person honest.  The other person didn’t want to commit their heart to the relationship, or saw it as a relationship of convenience, or used the relationship with the storyteller as a means to attract someone else.  The storyteller comes to realize this, and shares her pain with us through the music and words.

The most emotional lines in the song, ones that resonate with me and with anyone who loved someone in the way the storyteller does, are these lines - told by the storyteller at a point when she realizes that it isn’t going to work, but she still has feelings for the other person.

“I looked all around for you,

so I could pretend

that I didn’t care

that you were there.

Your lies were made of fear

and my hope was made of pain

gotta wipe away the memories

so I can say I’m sane.

I believed you thought that you were real

but it’s not something you can feel.”

She goes on:

“Well, I never felt your lips

would love me

let me give you a tip

there’s no manuscript

for relationships

you danced with me

and then ran the other way.

All you said we had to say

was nothing

but that’s okay

you’re not a disappointment

if nothing was expected.

Then you finally opened up

and lied to me and dealt with it

so clumsily

if you weren’t you, would you be?”

Then there’s this line, a perfect metaphor for dishonesty:

“I looked at your eyes

hadn’t seen them yet

and I realized they

can’t decide what color they are.”

“Brief Sounds” is a song is that is so powerful, and so perfect in its story of human feelings.  

Ms. Angelis is a masterful singer/songwriter, and much of her other music shares the same passion and emotion.  It’s just that “Brief Sounds” has captured a special place in my heart. 

“Brief Sounds” is here on iTunes and it is worth far more than the 99 cents to buy it.  

You can find all of her music on iTunes or at.krisangelis.com.

The desert and the sky

I've spoken about my trip to Las Vegas at the Star Trek convention there.  By far, my favorite part of the trip was not the actual convention, but in the two days after.  I've lived in Louisiana all of my life, and been fortunate to take trips out west, where there is none of the swamps, marshes and bayous that are here in south Louisiana.  Out west are the most beauiful places, the mountains and the wide open desert.  The desert, the endless and lonely expanse, is such a beautful place.  So, when I was in Las Vegas, I knew I had to drive out and see the Nevada desert.  The last full day I was there, Tuesday, I drove in a wide loop, hundreds of miles, around Nellis Air Force Base and and the infamous "Area 51".  It was such a beautiful drive and the desert was magnificent.  I've lived all of my life in the cities, with hundreds of thousands of people, their automobiles, the traffic and noise.  It was a religious experience, to go to such a desolate and lonely place.  I'd park the car, get out, and just marvel at the desert and the sky.

The night sky is something that is a bit of a letdown, here in Louisiana.  Even in Plaquemine, which is fifteen miles away from Baton Rouge, the light pollution is so bad that even on the clearest nights, only a few stars are visible.  On my drive, I took a side trip down the road that goes to Death Valley.
By then it was ten or eleven o'clock at night.  About ten miles or so down the road, I stopped the car, turned off the lights and looked at the night sky.  The stars were out by the thousands, so may such that I couldn't find the regular constellations.  I hadn't seen the Milky Way in many years, and there it was, meandering across the night sky.

Among the hardest things I've had to do was to leave Nevada and come back to this place.  Soon, very soon, I will be able to leave Louisiana permanently and go live someplace where the earth sweeps to the horizon and the sky is alive with the stars and planets.

It was nice, but . . .

I've come back from the Star Trek convention in Las Vegas.  The big one.  Thousands of fans were there, and almost a hundred Star Trek actors and other people that worked on the show or wrote books. It was something I've always wanted to do, and finally had the chance.  I went as a TNG-era Klingon for two days and a TOS-era Klingon for the other two.  It was a surreal experience, meeting all of the people that have been a part of my Trek experience for many years.  Some, like Jonathan Frakes, Michael Dorn, Dominic Keating and Connor Trineer, I've wanted to meet for many years and finally did.  Others, like Kate Mulgrew, Marc Alaimo, Andrew Robinson and Jeri Ryan, don't go to many conventions, if at all, so meeting them was even more of an extraordinary experience.  I can say, that to a person, all of the Trek actors were wonderful to talk to and seemed to appreciate the opportunity to meet their fans.

Ah, the fans.  To say that my uniform, which I thought was pretty good, was merely adequate at this convention, would be an understatement.   There were so many people who looked like they just stepped off of a set of a Trek television episode or movie.  They must have spent hundreds of hours working on their costume and were rightly recognized for it.

That being said, next year is the 50th anniversary of Star Trek, and the convention is going to be the biggest and best Trek convention there every was. I won't be going.  I had a great time at the convention, but the crowds, the pace, and the atmosphere were so overwhelming.  It just isn't as fun as going to the smaller conventions.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm glad I went and would have kicked myself had I never gone to the Vegas Trek convention in my lifetime.  It's just not for me.

Empty

For almost 20 years, I would go over to Michelle's house.  I would climb the steps to the porch, greet Sammie and Pankie in one cage, William in the other, and open the door to the middle room to say hello to Mazie.  If it was the morning, I'd hook up Agatha, say hello to Tinker and Colette (if she was around) and go upstairs.  I'd say hello to Miss Emily and Lucy and if it was before Michelle was sick, I would wake her up and take Sailor out for a walk.  After Michelle was sick, I'd let her sleep while I walked Sailor and did the morning stuff.  I'd look around, in each room, at all of the familiar furniture and things.

Now, her house is empty.  The executors and their crews have cleaned out all of the rooms.  I don't know what they did with the books and other things that can be salvaged. It wasn't something I could handle, so I let them dispose of it as they wished. Most of the stuff was thrown away, I think.  I kept many things that were sentimental.  Candles, some clothing, some dishes, photographs, the vase and flowers of the last dozen roses I brought her, maybe some other things. Everything else is gone.  It looks like they are replacing the electrical outlets, and the workers went into the attic.  I haven't any idea what was up there, and I don't think Michelle knew, either.  They probably won't tell me and I won't ask.  

As I walked through the empty rooms in her empty house, I realized that the sadness probably won't ever go away.  It might shrink until it occupies some tiny lobe in the memory cortex of my brain, but I'll see something or hear something and then the memories will come back.  What will happen to her house?  Again, I probably won't ask and they probably won't tell me.  It was best, to let them handle it.  Just to have those memories, those times we spent together, is a nice thing.

William

This is William.  All of our cats are special, aren't they, but he has a wonderful story behind him. 

About five years ago, he showed up in my friend Michell’s yard as a teenage kitten. He was a friendly kitten and, as soon as he was old enough, we got him neutered. One day, a few months after that, we saw that he was lethargic and his tail was dragging the ground.  We took him to the vet immediately, who told us that he had been attacked or was in an accident.  Somehow, he sustained an injury to his backside that made it where he couldn’t go to the bathroom by himself anymore. The vet showed us how to make him go - the veterinary term is "express" him.  So, for five years, twice a day, we “tag-teamed” and helped him do his business. 

Last fall, Michell passed away.  The vet gave me tips on expressing him myself, which I learned to do.  After Michell passed way, I and her friends found good homes for Michell's other cats, except for William.  William would be difficult to place, and I let the others know that I could find room for him at my house if things didn't work out.  

My friend, Jim, did finally find a home for William, but after a few in-home visits, Jim thought that it would be best for William to live with me. Although I already had four cats, I was happy to see have him come live with me, and I think he was, too.  

Anyone who knows cats knows that, for most cats, the belly is a "hands-off"place. This would seem to be even more so, for the person that has to not only touch the belly but also squeeze it.  From the beginning, and even while I've had to do it myself, William has been nothing but a wonderful cat about the whole thing. For all that  I have to put him through, he is such a cheerful, wonderful, loving cat. His favorite thing is for me to lie down and he gets on my chest and usually curls up to go to sleep.  Pets bring so much into our lives, and every second I spend with this wonderful cat, this endlessly cheerful and loving cat, makes my life that much better. 

Ak'voh

I am a huge Star Trek fan.  There are moments and scenes in all five of the live television shows in the series that are incredibly emotional.  This is one of them, and its relation to an event in my life. This scene is from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode "The Ship".  In this episode, there is a conflict between a character, Miles O'Brien and Worf, a Klingon.  On an away mission, O'Brien's friend, Muniz, was injured and slowly bleeding to death.  Worf tells O'Brien that Muniz will not recover and should prepare for death. O'Brien vehemently disagrees, saying that Muniz should keep fighting. Muniz eventually dies.  The away team is recovered, along with Muniz's body.  In the last scene of the show, O'Brien is sitting in the cargo bay, with Munoz's casket, telling him stories. Worf enters.

WORF: I did not mean to interrupt.

O'BRIEN:  It's all right.

WORF:    You are performing Ak'voh... for your friend.

O'BRIEN:  I am?

WORF: (nodding)  An old Klingon tradition. When a warrior dies in battle, his comrades stay with the body to keep away predators. That allows the spirit to leave the body when it is ready for the long journey to Sto'Vo'Kor.

O'BRIEN:  A fine tradition.

Worf nods and takes a seat next to O'Brien.

O'BRIEN:  What are you doing?

WORF:   We shall both keep the predators away.

My father passed away in the hospital.  After he died, they removed all of the tubes and breathing apparatus and left him to lie peacefully on the bed.  My mother, brother and I gathered around him, waiting to see what happened next.  Would they take him to the morgue?  Would the funeral home come to pick him up?  I'd like to think we were performing ak'voh.  We kept him safe  until his spirit left his body and made the long journey to his equivalent of Sto'Vo'Kor, where I know it arrived safely and he will live forever.  I know I will see him again, someday.

(from "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", episode "The Ship", teleplay by Hans Beimler, story by Pam Wigginton and Rick Cason)

The Smoking Girl

Steve noticed the pretty young girl walking with Beth, the H.R. chief.  He saw her again the next morning, as he walked to the front door from his car.  She was outside, dutifully observing the thirty-foot buffer zone, smoking a cigarette.  Almost every day after, Steve would see The Smoking Girl outside.  He’d smile and nod, and she’d smile back.  When he didn’t see her on days it was raining or cold, he thought about making an excuse to go to the underground parking garage, which was the other designated smoking area.  “Nah,” he said to himself.  “too stalky.”

 

One day, he finally talked to her.  They caught an elevator together on the first floor.  Just as he started to speak, it hit him – the unmistakable stench of a heavy cigarette smoker, thick and vile.  Steve willed his body with all his might to not cough.  Thankfully, she exited the car on the second floor.  The Smoking Girl was gone, along with the heavy smell, although the remnants remained in the car for his trip up the next two floors. 

Steve felt a wave of sadness and resignation.  The Smoking Girl was so pretty, but with that baggage, he couldn’t see talking to her at all. 

Later that week, everybody at work was on edge.  Steve’s nerves jangled constantly, like that feeling right before a car crash.  He saw Jacob in the lunchroom.

“What’s going on?”  Steve asked, “Everyone seems weirded out.”

Jacob didn’t reply.  Instead he looked out of the large picture windows past the tables.  There was a light rain, and the sky, which was a dull slate gray earlier, had changed to a pasty green color.  The clouds seemed to pulse as the green color changed shades.

“I’m leaving.”  Jacob said.  “I’m calling my wife and going home.  You should too.”  With that, he left. 

Steve started back to his office to get his things.  Once on his floor, he called out, “Hello?  Anyone here?”  No response. 

A wave of fear washed over him, adding to his already jangled nerves.  Instead of going to his office, he pushed the door open to the stairs and ran as fast as he could down to the bottom sub-basement stairwell that led to the parking garage.  He threw himself in the corner and curled into a ball, with the concrete stairs between him and the big heavy door. 

The crack that followed was so loud and violent it split the sky.  The heavy steel door was blown inward and smashed the concrete stairs to rubble.  A gust of hot air pinned Steve against the wall as he closed his eyes and curled tighter.  The earth and sky roared.

Then, a second later, it was quiet.  Steve opened his eyes.  The building was no longer above him.  He was in a giant pit, filled with broken concrete and twisted pieces of metal.  Listening, he heard nothing.  The sky had changed back to a normal slate gray, and he even saw some pockets of blue poking through.  He stood up and carefully picked his way through the rubble.  Cresting the rim of the pit, he saw only devastation.  He looked for people, for bodies, for anything. 

Evidence of human civilization had been erased.  Steve could see to the horizon in all directions.  All that remained was rubble, smoke and ashes.  Steve collapsed and held his head in his hands, trying to comprehend it all.  He sat at the edge of the pit, his body and mind shutting down. 

After what seemed like hours, Steve stood up and picked his way along the edge, heading for what he thought was once the parking lot.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flash.  It was the color green.  It was stark in its noticeability, since his world no longer included trees or grass.  “There’s a plant that survived this?”  He thought, as he gingerly moved to see what it was.  The green was a sleeve!  A sleeve that was moving!  Someone else is alive!  As he got closer, Steve saw the prone figure, moving in the rubble.

It was The Smoking Girl.  Hoping to not break an ankle, Steve moved as fast as he could to her.  She was slowly trying to get up.  The Smoking Girl was dirty and grimy, but at that moment, was the most beautiful sight in the word.  She turned to see him standing there, and her eyes, coated in dust, widened in awe and wonder that, by a miracle, another human had survived.

“Are you okay?  Can you stand up?”  He asked.

She nodded slowly.  He put his arm around her and helped her stand.

“Steve.”  He said.  “My name is Steve.”

“I’m Caroline.”

They stood for a moment, and then hugged tightly.  This was the hug of humanity, a species that survived for four million years of cataclysms, a species that survived a little bit longer.  That was when it hit him.  The thick, acrid smell of cigarette smoke on her breath entered his nose, invaded his lungs.  Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind.