I have this habit of sometimes not really listening to people when they are talking to me. Someone might be telling me about their serious medical problem and I'm looking at them and thinking about how would life be different if Eve had told the snake to just "Shove Off!" or if the first natives Columbus encountered had been cannibals. When I hear a key work or phrase that draws my attention I ask them to repeat the story. I call it "speed listening" and it works much like "speed reading". My wife hates it.
Sometimes I happen upon a real gem. Such was the case when I overheard an employee mutter something about "getting his ass chewed by Bozo the Clown" Wait a minute. Stop the presses! What did you say? THE Bozo the Clown? Tell me more.
Well it turns out that this employee (Gary) a guy that was in his sixties and someone I would describe as having that matter-of-fact dry sense of humor and attitude that I associate with most people from "up north" had been a little kid of six years of age or so when his mom scored tickets to the live Saturday morning taping of "The Bozo Show" at the old WGN-TV studio in Chicago in the early sixties. A man named Bob Bell had made the clown somewhat famous at that time even though Bozo the Clown was actually a franchise character and there were Bozos all over the country in various T.V. shows, but the Bob Bell Bozo was the one I saw on live T.V., he was the one most associated with the name. Bozo would dazzle and entertain the little kids with his antics and prizes while they sat attentively, dressed in their Sunday best, many of the young boys in ties, the girls in church clothes. they hung on every word the clown uttered......except for Gary. Gary had completely blown off the pre-taping instructions and only cared about ransacking Bozos' "Chest of Toys" during the taping. His single-minded focus on this had apparently kept Bob Bell (aka Bozo) distracted and concerned during the first half of the show (after all, it was live T.V.) and so at the first opportunity, which occurred at the mid-taping break ran over and chewed Gary a new ass hole.
I had to know: Do you have lingering effects from this? Are you scared of clowns now? Have you tried to look Bob Bell up and tell him what you think? Come on, there has to be a follow-up story to this. Maybe you went to see him in a nursing home and put a pillow over his face? Maybe you winked and said "Hey clown, remember me?" as you entered the room and reached for the pillow. Come on, tell me more. You have my attention!
Turns out that there was nothing like that. Gary just responded with that same dry detached humor: "Nah, it knew it was just some dude in a clown suit. Screw what he thought. I just wanted to play with the toys"
And as Bozo would say "Wowie-Kasowey! Remember kids "Keep laughing!"
Josh and I sat on the old weathered dock that extended a little ways out into the small lake that rested at the back of the woods about half a mile behind granddads old home place. When I felt Joshs' hand jab into my side I turned and when I turned I followed his gaze because I too then saw what he was looking at. Two round, clear, spheres; soap bubbles as best I can describe them that floated out of the pines, crossed the lake and stopped motionless, still, taking a stationary position probably no more than ten feet in front of us hovering a mans' height above the water as we sat paralyzed in our place.
The spheres communicated to us although no sounds were exchanged, it was all telepathic. The first things they said was "Why are you afraid?" Why do you think about escaping, running away, why are you thinking about the dangers that you imagine?" "Understand this: We had the same creator. We started on the same course. You rebelled. We didn't. You now live in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what you call death. In the beginning you wanted and you took the apple. We did not. You tied yourselves to the earth. Now for you everything has weight. Now your gravity, that is , the earth, pulls on you all your days like hands from the grave. To deal with this you invented things but still they were the wrong things. You created time and now you life is measured by it. You took random worthless things, just rocks and coal and dirt and assigned value to them. Why? Just to fight over. To create jealously. So some can have and some can not. To long for, to covet. Strive for a diamond. Kill for gold. I have My rocks! You can't have MY dirt! And later you become dirt and dust yourself. You become someone elses' coal, another persons forest floor. You invented hate. Because we did not rebell we spent our time thinking, being, not doing. We evolved into spirit. We do not rank. We do not assign value. WE know everything created has value. That is enough. You are afraid because you know these things. You know these things are true. Your first reaction is to run, to hide. Like the two in the garden. You learned all to well to hate and fear the snake, but you still want that apple. You still want that apple. Think about that."
With this, the spheres assured us that there was no particular reason why they were here. They were in essence just visiting. Now they would leave. There was no good-bye. The spheres or soap bubbles as best I can describe them just floated away.
Me and Josh never spoke of this. I've kept it to myself all these years. Nobody believes things like this anyhow. I guess I'm old enough now that I just don't care anymore.
I still fish there. Josh never returned to that place.