DISLOCATED
She put her bags down and left the room. Her life would
never be the same. How could she go back to country life after the bustling
busyness, the sheer energy of the city. Cars honking madly if you drove too
slowly, or carelessly stepped off the curb even when you knew you had the
light. Garbage cans banged loudly as they were thrown down the street by angry
city workers who hadn’t gotten a raise in three years. The economy sucked. The
neighbor down the hall had Fiona Apple singing Better Than Fine”. The base
notes drummed into her skull in a rhythm that make her headache worse. The dog
in 325 yapped, and yapped, and yapped till she wanted to take her skillet and
pound its door down. Candidates whined day after day about the deficiencies of
their opponents on TV. She hated election season. It seemed to get longer every
year. Well, maybe the quiet life would be better after all.
Her plane would take off in 45 minutes. She wondered if he’d
meet her at the airport or whether she’d have to take a taxi again. Do they
even have taxis? She wished she’d thought to call and make sure he’d be there.
Leaving a message wasn’t always best.
She wasn’t sure he ever checked voice mail any more. Her
head ached as her stomach churned, tied in knots. What am I doing! WHAT am I doing? She pulled out her
sweater, placing her bag in the overhead compartment and snuggled against the
window to read her book, “A Wanted Man” by Lee Child.
The cat said,” what took you so long.””
She sat there on the stool, like a princess on her lofty
throne, a touch of arrogance in her green eyes, as she looked down her long
nose. “I’ve been waiting for my dinner, and none of that icky shrimp and
chicken liver. I want the salmon.” Oh and a nice bit of that cheese Anda
brought over. No, no cracker today, I’m watching my waist you know. She raised
her svelte little body, stretched her legs and settled in again on the stool.
It had been a long and boring day at work. He wasn’t sure he
was ready to kowtow to Magnolia tonight, but he knew she would never leave him
alone till she had her way.
Something was happening tonight. What was it? A memory
skirted the edge of his mind—something important ……oh well, they say if it‘s
important it would come to him.
He took a dish from the cupboard, the one with roosters on
it, and opened a tin of tuna. Umm that smells good. I think I’ll have one too,
he thought. He put the dish on the floor in the accustomed place and got a can
of Chicken Of the Sea out for his own dinner. He chopped celery, onions and sweet
pickle. Tossing in a few craisins and pecans, the way Gwyneth always used to
do, he stirred in the Miracle Whip, no mayonnaise for him and spread a thick
layer of it onto the fresh whole wheat hazelnut bread he’d picked up an Hanna
and Nate’s on his way to work this morning. Tucking the Journal under his arm, he walked out onto the
screened porch for dinner and to
watch the evening sun go down.
The cat jumped down from her throne to check out the dish. “Tuna!
I said I wanted salmon you lunkhead! See If I’ll ever snag another mouse for
you! Oh well, might as well eat, I’m going to be ignored till tomorrow.” Maybe
I can sneak out later and go hunting.”
Gwyneth arrived in Dallas late, missing her flight
connection. She had hated the thought of having to sit next to the lady with
the toddler. The little girl with springy yellow curls was a handful. Mothers
shouldn’t be allowed to travel with children who were too young to just be
told, “shut up!” “Get off me!” “Go find your own window, this one is mine!” Well that conversation was a winner!
Ignoring the nasty looks of the child’s mother, she closed her eyes feigning
sleep. Maybe that would stop the snide remarks.
“Well if you’re just going to sleep anyway, why don’t you
trade places so Rosie can look out the window?
“No Mommy! I want to see outside! “No Mommee!, I don’t want
to sit!”
“ No! Noo! No aieeeeee aiiiieahhh!”
After thirty minutes of this constant screaming the cabin
attendant warned the mother that she would be asked to deplane is she didn’t
shut the kid up. A cheer and applause ran back through the plane as other
passengers agreed to this sentiment.
But Rosie, undaunted by the threat, continued to scream and
bounce on the center seat. Finely, exhausted, Rosie leaned her head on
Gwyneth’s shoulder and threw up.
The plane made an emergency stop in Chattanooga Tennessee
and Rosie, her mother and a soggy, smelly Gwyneth were rudely escorted off the
plane, while maintenance workers cleaned the seats. Standing on the tarmac, waiting for air port personnel to
take them back to the loading dock they watched the plane turn, and take off…
without them.
“Well! I hope that window seat was worth it to you!”
glowered Rosie’s mother, as she stomped off dragging her suitcase in one hand,
Rosie in the other.
“Not really,” murmured Gwyneth looking down at the ruined
Armani skirt and lavender silk blouse.
Gwyneth grabbed her own carryon, sighed and looked for the
personnel cart. Climbing aboard, she settled down for the short ride back to
the terminal. Since most of her baggage had been sent on to Albuquerque, she
would have to buy something less fragrant to wear before finding the next
available flight.
Gwyneth looked around the small airport shop in despair.
We are Big Orange. We are unstoppable.
University of Tennessee Knoxville Volunteers
Jansport Hooded Vandy Sweatshirt- Gold
$59.98 Vanderbuilt University
$59.98 Vanderbuilt University
Too bad they didn’t have a red
hoodie with the Nashville Sounds printed on it. She would have liked that one best. Settling for a pair of black yoga
pants and a cerise Tee , with Chattanooga Choo Choo in slick silver letters
under the silhouette of an old wood burning train, she headed to the restroom,
dressed, tossed the damp clothes in the trash, and headed for Gate B11
“Guess I’d better call Bert and
tell him about the change in plans.’ She remembered as her flight was finally
called.
Finishing her dinner, the cat
strolled into the large back room. It was supposed to be “Mom’s studio. Ha!
This is my lair. The large overstuffed blue couch had been hers since childhood
when she’d had to share it with Ashburn that hairy hare. What a mistake he’d
been. If she even went near him, he kicked her with a satisfying thump, Then
he’d race through the room to hide out.-- Not even a chance for retaliation. Oh
well, he’d gotten his hadn’t he! Magnolia leapt lightly into the corner with
her fuzzy pink pillow ready for a short nap.
Eeww! Looks like one of the
visiting cats had left a gift that no one had remembered to clean up. Pests!
All of them were pests!
Bert picked
up the yellow legal pad and started writing, “
“Creative
Innovation-still a vital force for America
At this time of great challenge for our nation it’s only natural to ask: “where will we find the spark or driving force that will put us back on the path to growth and prosperity”? Clearly, technological innovation has been a key element of past success from the dawn of the industrial revolution to the Internet and the first serious hints of artificial intelligence (AI). Recently, however, thoughtful analyses have been presented that question if we have reached the limits of innovation as a central force in society (Edsall- New Your Times, Oct. 15 & Christian Science Monitor Oct. 9 Editorial). Prof. Robert Gordon (of Northwestern Univ.) uses the phrase “Faltering Innovation” in his study (National Bureau of Economic Research), which displays the growth in GDP (in America) as it lines up with key technological developments such as the full use of electricity or the more recent Internet “revolution”. In this kind of comparison, our recent “computer-internet” age seems to have far less “punch” when it comes to influencing economic output….”
The phone rang shrilly making him lose his train of thought.
“Damn!”
At this time of great challenge for our nation it’s only natural to ask: “where will we find the spark or driving force that will put us back on the path to growth and prosperity”? Clearly, technological innovation has been a key element of past success from the dawn of the industrial revolution to the Internet and the first serious hints of artificial intelligence (AI). Recently, however, thoughtful analyses have been presented that question if we have reached the limits of innovation as a central force in society (Edsall- New Your Times, Oct. 15 & Christian Science Monitor Oct. 9 Editorial). Prof. Robert Gordon (of Northwestern Univ.) uses the phrase “Faltering Innovation” in his study (National Bureau of Economic Research), which displays the growth in GDP (in America) as it lines up with key technological developments such as the full use of electricity or the more recent Internet “revolution”. In this kind of comparison, our recent “computer-internet” age seems to have far less “punch” when it comes to influencing economic output….”
The phone rang shrilly making him lose his train of thought.
“Damn!”
Gwyneth!
He’d totally forgotten. He’d been so wrapped up in this assignment. At least
she was calling from Dallas. He still had an hour before she came. Work to be
done, he hustled into the other room.
The ride home was quiet, silent,
stressed. Parking in front of the house Bert got out and grabbed her luggage
from the back. As they walked into the house, Gwyneth sat tiredly on the old
blue sofa. A spring from the broken seat dug into her hip, but she was too
tired to protest, or move. Bert was making some fumbling noises from the brick
kitchen. Soon he brought her a cup of hot homemade apple cider and a slice of
warm pumpkin bread slathered thickly with pineapple cream cheese. Sitting down
beside her, he took her into his arms. Magnolia jumped into their combined lap,
purring loudly, yawned, smiled and thought. Home at last.
