Madison’s Grandma — Part 1

Mrs Ferguson

Mrs. Ferguson kept a tidy house.  She liked to garden and preferred cleaning to cooking.  She was a member of the YWCA and the local church, exercised religiously three times a week and did a five mile run every Saturday morning.  She had three grown children (two girls and a boy) five grandchildren, and a Mr. Ferguson, who was on the verge of retirement.  She wore glasses to read and sew and had a touch of arthritis in her right wrist, which had been broken when she was young and never properly set.  Unlike most women of her generation, she had never worked outside her married home and didn’t have a driver’s license.  And that’s where our story begins.

One year (maybe it was last year) Mr. Ferguson’s company decided to send him to Mexico City to set up their first international office.  It was a 6 to 8 week job (which probably meant 3 months) and Mrs. Ferguson didn’t want to be away from home that long.  There were a few arguments about it, some swearing and a rather nasty night of silence.  However, Mrs. Ferguson was cunning and convinced #1 daughter to loan her #1 granddaughter for the summer to provide company, drive (Mr. Ferguson’s major concern) and get over a somewhat older, seriously-tattooed boyfriend.  Outnumbered and out-manoeuvered, Mr. Ferguson packed his bags, had a wine and lingerie Bon Voyage evening and flew off — threatening to come home in a couple of weeks to see how things were going.  Granddaughter Madison arrived the next day.

Madison loved her grandma dearly, but, at 17, she saw her summer (and possibly her entire life) ruined by parental petulance.  She knew Graydon was not the love of her life, and she wasn’t going to do anything stupid, but at least he was fun, and they had fun, and all her friends were hundreds of miles away and there was nothing – nothing to do at Grandma’s house.  Plus, she was totally pissed with the parents for this overkill exile.  However, she was determined not to let her burning anger and terminal boredom show.  After all, Grandma was just a sweet old lady, and this bullshit wasn’t her fault.

On the other hand, Mrs. Ferguson had no idea what to do with a young woman permanently attached to her earbuds and telephone.  She had been an over-attentive mother and had pushed her children to achievement.  And even though she recognized this as a fault, it still bothered her that Madison seemed to spend most of her life lounging around or binge-watching TV.  Yet she was determined to keep her mouth shut and let her grandchild find her own way.

So for the first several days, both women spent their time walking on eggs, overly polite, overly considerate and both privately thinking, “God, this is going to be a long summer!”

But sometimes life rides on coincidence, and things that seem permanent change.

And that’s what happened halfway around the world from Mrs. Ferguson’s tidy little house.  On a warm midnight street in Rome, a very drunk girl (not much older than Madison) left the Qube Disco.  She took a wrong turn and stumbled around in circles for a while until two men who had been carefully watching came up behind her and pushed her into a dark gray panel van.  There was no more drama to it than that.  Two days later, Jennifer Copeland was on a boat in the Adriatic, locked in a room with four other girls.  Her father, Theodore Copeland, was on the telephone to his friend Frederick Hughes, owner of Hughes Security.

“The last GPS ping from her phone was in the Mediterranean.  She’s on a ship.”

“It won’t be Albania.  It’s too far, and the mountains are impossible.  Probably Turkey or Lebanon.  But I think Turkey these days.  There’s too much traffic in Lebanon, Syria.  Your best bet is Turkey.”

“I’ll need your help, Fred.”

“Of course, but I’ve got to tell you Karga is still running the show in that part of the world, and he’s not going to be too happy to see you … or me.”

“I’ve got to try.”

“Okay, no worries.  I’m just saying Karga is likely to shoot first, and without him, nothing moves where we need to go.”  There was a pause.  “Hey, why don’t you try Sylvia?  If anybody can work Karga, she can.  They were a serious thing back then … like, really serious.”

“It’s been 30 years, Fred … more.  I have no idea where she is.  Christ, she could be dead by now.”

“No, no she’s around.  I think she’s living in Denver or something.  She married some banker named Ferguson.  Give me a couple of hours.  I’ll find her.”

Friday – Part 2

The Moon

moon

Fifty years ago tomorrow, a guy from Ohio stepped onto the Moon, and suddenly Earthlings became extra-terrestrials.  It was a spectacular accomplishment.  Everybody on this planet — from Brooklyn to Borneo — knew about it, and US president Richard Nixon got so carried away he called it, “the most significant event since creation” (fire and the wheel notwithstanding.)  But our species going to the moon was more than just going to the moon.  It was a blatant demonstration that humans can defy the natural laws of the universe (notably, gravity) and do whatever the hell we want.  We had the confidence, the ability and the audacity to hurl ourselves off this little blue marble, visit another celestial body and come back to tell the tale.  In your face, Mother Nature!

Neil Armstrong’s “One small step for man …” was the culmination of The Big Idea, an inherent human trait that has dominated our existence since long before Pharaoh Cheops decided he wanted to be immortal and asked his scientists, mathematicians and engineers to make it so.  Our reach has always exceeded our grasp — until we grasp.  Then we begin the whole process over again.  For example, the wheel is a magnificent tool, but inventing the cam which converts circular motion into vertical power was a singular act of genius.  Necessity may be the mother of invention, but invention itself is its own philandering father, propagating numerous offspring to find a new necessity and begin the process all over again.  Human history is a litany of necessity and invention — each progressively more complex and imaginative than the last.

The Lunar landing itself didn’t do much to change the lives of anybody, really.  (The slingshot of Space Race technology wouldn’t hit our society for a generation.)  The next day, most people simply went about their ordinary earthly business.  But we were all a little bolder, a little more self-assured, a little more hopeful.  After all, we’d just put a man on the moon: how hard could the rest of our problems be?  But that’s the nature of the Big Idea.  Its very soul is the notion that, when we concentrate our ideas and abilities, we can make the impossible ordinary.  That, once inspired, humans are capable of thinking beyond themselves.  And that inspiration is, by nature, selfless, righteous, and beneficial.  The Big Idea assumes the greater good.

Neil Armstrong didn’t just decide to go to the moon.  He got there because, in the early 60s, there was a Big Idea, and in 1962, President Kennedy went to Rice University and asked Americans to reach for the stars.

“We choose to go to the moon,” he said. “We choose to go to the moon in this decade …, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone …”

Seven years later, at Moon Base One, somewhere in the Sea of Tranquility, an army of NASA scientists, mathematicians and engineers made it so.

These days, it’s fashionable to embellish our human flaws and limitations, to scroll through our problems, upload our complaints and download our responsibilities.  We are the grandchildren of the Lunar Generation, connected by our machines, concerned and conceited with ourselves and comfortable with our own righteousness.  But history shows us that one day – someday – there will be a new Big Idea and the human adventure will begin again.

Everybody Works

work

Everybody works.  Some work harder than others, some work smarter than others, but as each of us wanders along life’s incredible journey, we all have a relentless series of jobs to do.  Just to clarify – I’m not talking about gainful employment; I’m talking about all those nasty little tasks that haunt our otherwise leisured existence — everything from filling out income tax forms to assembling a Fridekgloben bookcase from Ikea.  This is the work that torments our souls.

Having survived on this planet for – uh – a number of years, I’ve done my share of personal chores and, without bragging, I’ve gained some valuable experience.  Here are just a few bits and bobs from what I’ve learned along the way.

1 – Every job takes longer than you think.  No matter how simple it looks or how comprehensively you’ve prepared, the task at hand is going to eat up more minutes than you bargained for.  (See items 4, 5, 6, 7 and sometimes 8 for a detailed explanation.)

2 – The rule of quarters.  No matter what you do, the first 75% of the job takes 25% of the time and the last 25% takes 75% — or more.

3 – Do as much as possible before lunch — cuz after lunch, you’re going to be useless.

4 – Something you need isn’t going to be there.  Whether it’s a particular medical receipt, a pinch of coriander, an account number or an oddly shaped one-use-only tool, there will be one item, that’s absolutely necessary to the task, which you either don’t have or can’t find.  This means you have to stop, search or go buy it – no other choice.  And, BTW, this never happens at the beginning of the adventure but always more than halfway through — when you’ve got everything torn up, half assembled, disassembled and/or spread out all over hell.

5 – There will be an essential piece of information missing.  Assembly instructions are notorious for this – the placement of Lock Washer #3 is a mystery known only to God.  Meanwhile, the Federal Government will not accept your tax return without an entry in Box 906a even though its purpose is a bigger secret than the contents of Area 51.  But the very worst are online forms that demand an encyclopedia of personal information and, after you’ve entered it all, flash the big red “Error” warning at you — while slyly refusing to tell you where the error occurred.

6 – The thing that’s supposed to fit … won’t.  Carpenters and plumbers know this and are skilled in Improvise, Adapt and Overcome, but the rest of us are utterly stunned when the last bolt’s too big, the connecting rod’s too short or the brand new muffin pans don’t fit in the oven.  The result is an extended period of swearing and weeping.

7 – The experience you gain from one task does not translate to anything else.  What you learned trimming the hedge doesn’t help you buy car insurance online.  Painting the porch and making a soufflé are straight chalk and cheese.  Every task demands a particular expertise, so whatever you attempt to do (unless you’re a poly-skilled professional, or spend your life watching YouTube) you’re going to waste a lot of time reinventing the wheel.

And finally:

8 – You can’t get there from here. – This doesn’t happen all the time, but it happens regularly enough to be included here.  Basically, there’s always a danger that the first touch on any project will set off a chain of disasters, each more expensive and time-consuming than the last.  The leaking faucet that eventually becomes a $5,000 plumbing job.  The birthday cake that ends up with a new stove.  The computer upgrade that resets your Netflix account to Serbia and your banking information to Good Shepherd Savings and Loan in Azerbaijan.  Seriously, I have a friend who tried to buy a paper shredder and is locked out of Amazon forever.  (Even they don’t know why.)

Yeah, we all have jobs to do, but I’ve discovered that only paid professionals and enthusiastic hobbyists get anything out of these mundane tasks.  The rest of us just have to grit and bear it.