Rococo. Coco to her friends.

Sweeping down the hill filled with light yellow daisies and pastel green grass she bends the wind almost as the breeze moves her along. Casting aside any encumbrance Rococo, Coco to her friends,  runs through the fields and picks a few daisies with a lowering of herself onto her knees and pulling up the daisies and then bounding back onto her feet and down the hillside.

Every movement smooth, masterful as she glides along weaving her way through the trees that begin at the end of the open field. Looking up and dancing with the branches surrounding her as she continues to move forward until she seems to disappear behind one huge tree with low-hanging branches.

Then the tree itself begins to dance and as the wind moves through those branches it makes a sound that is not a howling but instead a beautiful flute-like sound with an enchanting melody. It’s as if Coco and the tree are one and in that unity, the solidness of the trunk and the fluidity of Coco’s movements along with the branches have produced a creation that is alive like no other.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a pounding drum is heard as from the middle of the tree trunk over and over a rhythm intensifies and rises and falls with the sound of the flute, the melody and the rhythm of the drum dancing inside the tree and the branches and in Coco, still unseen.

As this music continues the branches scroll upwards into the sky, dancing and painting with their leaves and the arms of Coco and her long flowing hair. That hair moves back and forth in the sky making a vision in the clouds that is beyond what mere humans can create and more than the look of any tree living.

Then, as the sculpted heavens show forth such beauty, Coco walks down from the sky down the stairway that is wound among the colors and the wisps of life. She makes her way down ever so slowly still holding daisies from the field and leaves from the branches of the trees and the colors of the clouds in her eyes. 

She smiles and then quietly walks through the trees to another forest and to another field. The earth rustles between her feet as she goes through the fallen leaves and she hums the tune that the flute played as she claps her hands to the rhythm that had come from within the tree. She doesn’t look back but the masterpiece she sculpted with the help of the trees is still there, reaching up and up and up. 

And then she is gone. But the beauty remains. Of Rococo, Coco to her friends.

A Rich Life: Where did I go on vacation as a child?

From my youngest days, we went to visit family in the summer for two weeks then again just after Christmas through just after New Year’s.

Usually, we would first go and visit my Mom’s parents in the hills of West Virginia, Bomont, up a mountain with a creek running through the property. My Uncle Leo and Aunt Nina lived in the house by the road and then there was a short wooden bridge across the creek to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. 

The house was old, like them, and we loved it, and them more. There was a front porch with chairs and an outhouse behind the house. It was quite a good fortune for us all when they got an indoor bathroom and bathtub put in during probably my late childhood/early teen years.

The house inside was a delight, like a cottage really with a great kitchen where Grandma would make the best food, especially breakfast. I can still picture Grandpa at night sitting in the living room peeling potatoes for the next morning’s breakfast and I remember he had on white socks. Then in the morning, Grandma would fry up those potatoes and also fry eggs and bacon and sausage, and I’m pretty sure there were grits as well or some kind of rice. All I know is it was white. Breakfast was wonderful! We ate and ate and ate. Talk about a country breakfast!

My brother and I would play outside all day long, sometimes in the creek and even swim in it, and pretty often we would walk down with my sister to Opal’s Store. Opal was the local Post Mistress and she sold goodies besides and I think had a gas pump too. I remember always enjoying Honey Buns, a sweet treat that I can still almost taste and enjoy from time to time. But then they were such a treat for my childhood snack at Opal’s. Seeing a Honey Bun now in a store, a kind of cinnamon roll with icing still takes me back.

My grandparents had chickens in a chicken coop behind their house from which they got fresh eggs for breakfast and of course, fresh chicken when we had fried chicken, which I especially remember my Aunt Nina making. The chickens were clucking and making noise and I didn’t want to go in there. I’m not sure if I ever did but they were a sight for sure.

The beds were so good to sleep in. Probably the only time in my life that I got to sink into a real feather bed. It was so soft and I would sink down into it and sleep the night away. 

Lots of adventures at Grandma and Grandpa’s place but after about a week we would get anxious to go to my Dad’s family because there were cousins there about our age to play with.  

So we would say goodbye to Mom’s family in the hills and go into the city of St. Albans and see Dad’s Mom and Stepdad who we called Mamaw and Papaw.  Mamaw had a big boarding house and she would serve them breakfast as well. So we got to stay in it and eat there for breakfast. She ran a diner for a while also. She was fun to be around and was also quite the businesswoman, though I didn’t realize that when I was a child. Papaw was always old it seemed and was very kind and tall and thin and quiet.

When we went to St. Albans we also got to see my Uncle Ivan and Aunt Lillie. They were a great couple and we enjoyed seeing them and they always made us feel special.

The big thing as a child was that we got to play with our cousins, Greg, Connie, and Sherry. They were pretty much the same age as me, David, and Rosalyn and we had lots of good times. They were the children of Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack who were very fun to be around. Aunt Ruby was so fun-loving and liked to trick people. She made great fried chicken too and always made us treats.

When we grew up together as cousins we would do shows for our parents and grandparents in St. Albans at Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack’s house. We would dress up, sing, perform, and laugh and there was always much appreciation from the audience who loved to see us having such fun and performing for them. So many good times putting our shows together.

Christmas vacation was a lot the same except shorter. We would head to the mountains and then to the city. The big thing in the city was New Year’s Eve when we had a big party that lasted into the new year and we ate shrimp. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack hosted everyone and always had shrimp and lots of it. More shows of course by the cousins and we had lots of fun.

Our summer and Christmas vacations as a child were great times with family. I am so glad for those memories and those people.

A Rich Life: What's the first major news story you can remember living through as a child?

I was in my classroom at school on November 22, 1963. We had just come back to the room after lunch. The teacher got our attention. I don’t remember how she did it any differently than any other time. But the words she said were different than any I had ever heard or felt in my life. She said President Kennedy has been killed. I’m not sure if she said anything right there about his having been shot or if she used the word assassinated, but she made it clear that our President was dead. He had been killed. 

It was shocking to hear. I remember that one boy in our class cheered. Looking back he probably didn’t think it was real or he, and his family, perhaps didn’t like Kennedy. Or he was just being funny or trying to be.  But I still remember that he cheered. But there was no more of that. Not from him or anyone else.

I don’t remember the rest of the day at school. Since he was shot on a Friday shortly after noon, we had the weekend at home to find out more. We watched on TV and read what came out in the newspaper. Big bold letters of headlines saying President Kennedy Assassinated and pictures and descriptions. 

We were numb. How could this happen to our President? I was only 13 and our family was Republican but he was our President, still, even though he was a Democrat. That’s the way that it was in those days. He was our President. And he was dead. By an assassin’s bullet.

It was a crazy weekend. A new President was sworn in, Lyndon Johnson, and leadership of the country continued. But we had lost our President. He was so young and so positive. People had called his time in the White House the days of Camelot. Only later would I see some of the tragedies of Camelot itself, but for now while he was alive it was a new day. A hopeful time. Working to put a man on the moon and take care of the needy in our country and help in the world. Such ideals and such hope. 

Then he was shot down. Murdered. Assassinated. 

Two days later, Sunday, November 24, Lee Harvey Oswald, the man who killed Kennedy, was being moved from one place to another and out of the crowd Jack Ruby pulled a gun and killed Oswald. It was unreal. We were still learning about Oswald, it had only been a few days, and he was murdered. 

One more shocking detail added to it all. Later there were investigations of all of it but for that weekend it was just simple details. Our President had been assassinated and then the assassin had been killed.

It was all so big and so horrible. Our President had been killed. The blood-stained dress of his wife, Jackie. The way she stood by the new President, Lyndon Johnson, as he was sworn in as President. The mourning and the grief and the funeral and the processions. 

Sometime later in my teens, our family visited Arlington National Cemetery and saw the Eternal Flame that was at President Kennedy’s grave. The flame was a sign of hope. Yes, he was shot down and died way too young. But his vision of hope would continue. We could be better than all of this. America could be a place of hope for the world.

I still remember. I still hope. And the first song at our wedding that we danced to was from Camelot. 

A Rich Life: What advice would I give my 20-year-old self?

At 70+ the advice that I would give my 20-year-old self is to enjoy life. Lots of things are going to happen along the way that will try to take your joy but don’t let them. People will question your motives but if you believe that what you are doing is right then keep doing it. Be kind to others but in your kindness don’t let them hold you back from the life that you were made for.

Of course, that means that you will have to discover that life. You will have to become the one that God created you to be and that becoming is a lifetime adventure. Seeking it out will bring you lots of happiness and just enjoy that when it comes. You don’t have to always be looking for the next thing. Take joy in what you have and appreciate the family and friends that you have. They won’t always be there so love them while you can.

Especially your mom. Hug her as often as you can. Don’t be so busy with school and work and friends that you don’t go home and see her. She loves you. She gave you life. Hold on to her as much as you can as you look for how you will be an independent adult on your own. Though you will be independent you will always need your Mom. When she is gone you will wish you had written her more, called her more, visited her more. But then when she is gone don’t beat yourself up. Take those memories, those regrets, and use them as a reminder to care for your Dad and your sister and your brother and your friends, and don’t take them for granted either. 

You will discover whether it is for a short time or a long time there will never be enough time to be with your parents and siblings. Love them, love them, love them. And when you have a family of your own, which you doubt now that you will ever have, hold tightly onto them. Not in a way that strangles them but in a way that lets them know you are aware that the moments together are far too short and that the years go way too fast. So enjoy them. Love them. Bring your best to them and bring out the best in them.

You care deeply about justice and peace and you will discover that the two collide at times. Still, don’t give up on either of them. That passion for them is deep in you and your life will be better for working towards them in your unique way. The passion you have for what is good and right needs to be extended to others as well, that how they see the good and the right could be the way. Don’t be afraid to change, to admit you were wrong. It’s hard to believe now when you are 20 but everything you think isn’t the only way to see things, isn’t the only correct way. Give others some slack.

I know what is in your head, that you can back off from a difficult discussion because you are OK with them being wrong because you think you are so right. That will work for you but someday you will see that more often than you thought, they were the ones who were right and you were the one who was wrong, or at least might be wrong. 

Hang on to hope and in times when it seems to be gone, grab for it anyway. You will feel hopeless at points but you don’t need to stay that way. Others won’t know how you are feeling inside but reach out to those you trust and love and let them remind you of the hope that exists even if you can’t seem to see it yourself.

Reflect hope to others. Don’t keep it to yourself. Just as you need it the world desperately needs it also. Your family will need it. Your friends will need it. Strangers will need it. They will see you as a hope-filled person and you need to share it with them. You will do that. You will reflect hope.

And that, my 20-year-old self, is how you will enjoy life. That’s what I want for you. That’s the advice I have for you. Enjoy life as you reflect hope to others and experience it for yourself.

A Rich Life: What was the neighborhood I grew up in like?

I lived in a bunch of neighborhoods as a child, good places, but I would say that the fourth one, Barkeyville, Pennsylvania, was the one that I grew up in.

Our family moved to Barkeyville when I was ten years old. I started fifth grade soon after moving and I went to Victory Joint School. I rode the bus there and developed some good friends there at the school and in Barkeyville.

Barkeyville was a little village along Route 8 in Pennsylvania. It was small, and it was a great place to grow up in. My Dad was a Pastor so we lived in the parsonage owned by the Barkeyville Church of God. It was an older two-story home that had three bedrooms upstairs. One for my parents, one for my sister, and one for my brother and me. It had a coal furnace in a section of the basement and a coal chute down into the basement from the side of the house for the deliveries of coal.

There was a yard all around the house but not much of it was in the front between the porch and the road. On one side of our house, there was a E.U.B. church, Evangelical United Brethren, which was a group that later merged with the Methodists to become the United Methodists. I don’t know how United they ever were but in my twenties, I ended up working at a United Methodist Church in Ohio that had been E.U.B. before the merger, and much later I worked at a United Methodist Church in Iowa that had been Methodist. The two seemed to have different histories in their approach to the Bible, at least that is how it appeared to me.

Anyway, the churches in the Barkeyville area were friendly with each other. It was just that some people went to different churches. Fortunately for me, they were friendly because one day I was playing catch with someone in the yard between our house and the E.U.B. church, which I wasn’t supposed to do, and I threw the ball too hard and too far and it crashed through one of the stained-glass windows. I felt really bad about it and knew I was in trouble. My Dad worked it out with the other pastor somehow and the window got fixed and I never played ball near that church building again.

On the other side of our house, we had a garage. On the back of our garage, there was a basketball hoop that I shot baskets into a lot. It was great to have it right there. In the yard between our house and the garage, there was enough space to put up our tent sometimes in the summer and camp out with my friends overnight. It was so much fun to do as we would talk, stay up late, eat snacks, and play Monopoly and other games. 

Behind the house, separated by just a little bit of a field but visible from our house was a cemetery. A big old graveyard with old tombstones and the moon would shine over it at night and sometimes my friends and I would go there. It was a scary place.

It wasn’t always scary outside though. I remember one night that I felt God speaking to me and it was a powerful moment for me. The moon and the stars overhead and a real feeling, a knowing, that God was speaking to me. Not a voice that I or anyone else could hear but a voice that spoke into me. That would have been in the 1960s and it has stuck with me all of these years.

At the back of our backyard, there was a cable that stretched from the dog house for a nice distance so that Skippy, our dog, could run freely but not run away. Skippy would run back and forth with the chain around his neck connected to the overhead cable. Sometimes we would take him off of the cable and take him for a walk. But that didn’t work out very well because he was so strong that we would get dragged along. So almost all of the time Skippy was connected to that cable. 

On the other side of our garage, there was a lane that ran back to the cemetery. It was very narrow, just wide enough for one vehicle at a time. On the other side of the lane was a Feed Mill. Lots of farms surrounded our little village so a Feed Mill was very important. After the Feed Mill, there were a bunch of houses on both sides of the road. Directly across from our house was the Barkeyville Church of God where my Dad was the Pastor. I have a lot of good memories there. Singing in the children’s choir, going to Sunday School and worship, all-night (late night at least) sings, midnight New Year’s Eve music and worship, and just being with my family and friends there. It was a good time. A great place to grow up in. 

God was part of my life. Jesus was real to me. It was a simple but real belief. God was guiding me and I knew it but of course, that didn’t mean I didn’t have the ordinary wonderings and wanderings of any boy. Sometimes I would push my limits with my parents but I am so glad that I had limits and rules and was taught right and wrong. And I knew that my parents would always love me. I never doubted that. 

Behind the church building was a field we used to play baseball in when it didn’t have a crop growing. So it was rough to play in it but it was close and we didn’t mind. Beside the church, across from the E.U.B. Church was one of my friends and we would play soccer in their backyard and also put on musical shows for our families. Right beside that family was the family of my best friend. 

His family got a pool table one year and I wanted to play but my mom, in particular, didn’t want me to play pool. She minded my going over there because she liked the family, his Dad was a school teacher, but I wasn’t supposed to play. I never told them that I played but I guess my Dad probably knew and maybe my mom too. I never lied about it. They just never specifically asked me if I had played when I came back from there. 

I couldn’t figure out why my Mom was so much against pool since we played ping pong at different times, including my Dad over the years, and it didn’t seem any different to me. It was just another game to play. When I got older my Dad told me that Mom had grown up in a rowdy coal town in West Virginia. In that town, there was only one place that had a pool table and it was a bar, a very rowdy bar where men drank and got drunk and had fights, and played pool. She had been taught that pool was evil and so she didn’t want me to play. She was protecting me I suppose. But of course, playing pool in a bar with fighting drunks is a far cry from playing pool at the house of a friend. So yes, I disobeyed my parents and got away with it. It’s interesting the things parents pass on to their children because of their own upbringing. But this didn’t get in the way of the love and acceptance that I always felt from my parents.

Oh, and we weren’t supposed to play cards either since that was considered sinful. But my brother and I did late at night and sometimes with friends, in my Dad’s study, with cards, and the chips to bet with from our Skunk game. We didn’t play for money but it seemed more fun to at least bet with chips like real poker players would.

So Barkeyville was a good neighborhood to grow up in surrounded by church buildings, a cemetery, a Feed Mill where you could take small critters that you had trapped, and friends nearby up and down the road. And a Service Station at the bottom of the hill where I could buy a bottle of coke for a dime on occasion.  

It was the place of my boyhood with adventures in the woods past the cemetery where we shot at dragonflies with BB guns at the rock quarry that was already unsafe enough. But we were kids and we survived playing outside all day and only coming in for meals. Everybody in town knew who I was, and who everyone else was also, and in those days everybody looked out for each other. So my parents weren’t worried that we would get away with anything and more importantly they knew that if I was hurt someone would help me until they could get to me.

I was 16 when we moved from Barkeyville in the middle of my Junior Year. We moved less than ten miles but we moved into a small city and they had a different school for me to attend. Fortunately for me, I met some wonderful people there who were kind to this country kid. I am grateful for my adventures in Grove City...but Barkeyville is the place I grew up in.

Barkeyville was a place where I could ride a bike, deliver newspapers, play baseball and soccer, sing with my friends for my family, and hear from God. So many adventures for a boy. So many lessons were learned. But that’s how you grow up. And Barkeyville was that place for me.

A Mystery of Terror in South Africa

South Africa had always been a place that I dreamed of visiting until those dreams became nightmares. Everything that I had hoped to find on holiday became a terror to me at night.

I saved money for the last five years to be able to fly from New York to South Africa and then spend three full weeks there before flying home. Now after just a couple of nights there I was already thinking about flying home right away even though I would have to pay a fortune in change fees.

The flight had been a long one and I had gotten some rest on the plane. I was grateful for that. Upon arrival, I was swept up in the beauty that is South Africa. As soon as I could I got out of the airport into the countryside away from the city to see the land and relax and read and write and be restored from working so hard all the time. I really needed this time away and the first day went great. I had made arrangements to live with a family who would provide a room for me to sleep and food for me to eat and the chance to experience South Africa in a more personal way.

They were great people, so welcoming and it seemed like we were family almost from the first moments. Right away we were out riding in a Range Rover and seeing the beautiful scenery that was all around and even a few animals. I loved the sound of my hosts’ voices and the joy they seemed to possess just showing me their home country. I learned more that first day than I had learned in the previous months of studying up for my trip. It was an amazing first day.

As they showed me my room which was actually a separate one near their house, I was told that they hoped the bed would be comfortable for me. I replied thank you and that I was sure it would be. The husband and wife looked at each other in a kind of strange way and then told me to make sure that I slept in the bed. I thought that was odd because of course that is what I was planning to do.

Their response was to repeat themselves and tell me that I was to sleep in the bed. Even if it ended up not being comfortable for me or it seemed hot I was to sleep in the bed. I told them that it would be fine and that I had slept on the plane coming over and if I could do that I could sleep easily in this bed.

They looked seriously at each other and then smiled at me and wished me a happy sleep and said they would have breakfast for me at 8 in the morning which would allow me to sleep in a little after the travel over and the ride around that we had done all day. I thanked them for their hospitality and told them that I was definitely climbing in bed right away to get a good night’s sleep to be ready for the adventures of the next day.

As soon as they left I put on my sleep shorts because the room was hot and then I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. I noticed as I sat that the bed seemed higher than normal. My feet barely touched the floor even as I stretched them a little. Otherwise, the bed looked pretty normal to me, a nice big bed that was perfect for me with plenty of room to sleep. 

As I sat there more with the door closed the room got even hotter. I had expected heat so that didn’t bother me but the height of the bed still seemed strange. I looked underneath it and saw that the legs of the bed were up on bricks. It was the several bricks that made the bed so high. But the bed was sturdy and I wasn’t worried that the legs would come off of the bricks so I just laid back to get some sleep.

Instantly I was out. If there is one thing that I know how to do it is sleep. Fast. I was asleep so quickly that I hadn’t even pulled a cover over me which actually turned out for the best because when I woke up a few hours later I was sweating a lot even without covers on. Wow, this place was hot. I needed some air.

I walked over to open the door but discovered that even with it open it was as hot as before so I went ahead and closed it and walked back and sat on the edge of the bed. As I sat there sweating I realized that my feet were cooler than my arms. It was cooler down on the floor which of course makes a lot of sense since heat rises.

It didn’t take long until I decided to just sleep on the floor because it would be cooler but then I thought of what my hosts had told me, to sleep in the bed. I wondered what their anxiety was so I looked around on the floor for bugs and spiders and such but the floor was very clean just like the whole room was. So I threw a sheet on the floor and a pillow on the sheet and lay down and promptly fell to sleep again. I told you I was a fast sleeper.

Fast asleep and then fast awake. I felt something sliding up my chest towards my neck and I opened my eyes and saw a horrible creature. It was very small and a cross between something human and some primate of some kind. I had never seen anything so ugly and it was staring me in the face as it crawled up on me. I rolled over and it fell off but as I lay still and thought that I must be having a very bad dream it touched my bare legs with its bony fingers and I saw blood, my blood, as it scratched me more and more. 

This time as I rolled away I got up onto the bed as fast as I could and looked down into the darkness and couldn’t see anything. The rest of the night I hunched in the middle of the bed and eventually fell into a fitful sleep just before dawn. 

At 8 my host knocked on the door and said that breakfast was ready in their kitchen and to come over as soon as I was ready. I threw on my pants and then socks and then shirt and ran my hand through my hair and dashed over to breakfast. I must have been quite a sight to them.

She looked at me and asked how I had slept. I lied and said it was a great night’s sleep and that’s why I was late for breakfast after sleeping in. With knowing looks they murmured to each other and then asked if the bed was comfortable for me. I told them the bed was great and that I looked forward to sleeping in it the rest of my time with them.

As I ate I kept picturing that horrible creature. What was it? Had it just been a nightmare after my long trip and lack of sleep the last few days? In any case, I had a long way to go on my three-week stay and I’m sure tonight would be better. I put it out of my head as I got energized with breakfast and went out on what was a normal day for my hosts but was what I would call a safari.

All that day we saw antelopes and elephants, hippos and rhinos, and even more. Of course, they weren’t all together but stretched out during the day and we had lots of time to talk about the animals and the culture and the land and history. I saw so much and took some notes, but mostly just looked and talked and looked some more. I took pictures that I knew were all the best that I had ever taken. I couldn’t get enough of it and the day stretched out longer and longer. My host, who was also a great guide, was very excited seeing how excited I was and he took me further and further to see more and more.

Then as we saw the most beautiful sunset that I had ever seen he told me that we had better turn towards home. I told him that I wish that we could just camp out here and enjoy what must have been an explosion of beauty in the stars at night. A terrified look came over his face and he said no, he would never camp out here and that we must get home. With that, he turned towards home and we came back at quite a pace, bouncing and careening around corners through the dark until we reached his home.

Upon arriving back he walked me to the door of my room and reminded me to make sure I slept in the bed and wished me a good night’s sleep. I told him thanks and that it had been an even better day than the first one and that I was looking forward to tomorrow. I got ready for sleep, pulled out my journal, and slid onto the floor with my back against the bed to take more notes of the day, things that I didn’t want to forget. I wrote and wrote and wrote until, exhausted, I fell asleep and rolled onto my side on the floor.

I was in a deep sleep for several hours and then started having the strangest dreams. I say dreams because they kept happening one after the other as one would end and another one begins. That creature who I had seen the night before was in every dream. Scratching me with his long bony fingers. I would push him away and fall fitfully asleep again but then the next dream would start and be even worse than the first as I felt deep scratches in my back. One was so horrible that I awakened with a lurch and saw him reaching towards my neck and I jumped up and into bed, crawling to the center of the bed. I breathed heavily for a long time and moaned and seemed to hear another moaning that was not my own. 

Totally exhausted I collapsed onto my side on the bed and slept until once again I heard a knocking on my door and the voice of my host that hoped I had slept well and that my breakfast was ready for me.

I lay there a bit longer and then pulled on my clothes and walked over to breakfast, not even attempting to hand comb my hair. I sat down in the chair and just started eating, slowly, and drinking in the coffee cup after cup. My hosts didn’t say a word. I was thinking of having them drive me to the airport. But this had been my dream. I wasn’t giving up. Yet.

After breakfast I had my senses back it seemed so I asked if we could go out in the other direction where we hadn’t been and see more of the countryside. Yes of course was the response and after splashing some water on my face I was off with him for another adventure day.

It is hard to even acknowledge this but it seemed that this third day was even better than the others. I hadn’t thought that was possible. We saw more elephants walking and then splashing in the water and saw birds that I had only imagined flying above and making the most beautiful sounds. The sky looked amazing and the pictures I was taking would probably be incredible to see when I looked at them later.

Then a lion walked towards us. Easy going. Not a worry in the world. I was terrified but my host told me that I could take a picture of the lion if I did it all very slowly. No fast movements. I slowly raised my camera and snapped one picture. The lion just kept walking towards us. I froze as it stopped. I took another picture and then another, not even daring to breathe.

Then the lion turned and slowly walked away, and that was that. I could breathe again. I told my host that we could go back now. That was what I needed for that day.

As he drove home we chatted more about what we had seen and how the animals were part of his homeland, of his life. He looked at me and asked me if the lion being that close was the most afraid I had ever felt. I said no, not even close. He nodded and said, make sure you sleep in the bed tonight. I nodded back and said yes sir.

Lucky: A Mystery

Dressed in red from her tight dress to her high heels I couldn’t miss her and didn’t want to. Even her lips were sealed with red lipstick that begged to be kissed. Her eyes begged also.

Just as quickly as my eyes took her in she turned and ran down the alley. How she ran in those heels I'll never know. But she did and made it look easy.

I rushed away from my blind date that I had just come out of the coffee shop with and charged down the alley. Shouting back to the woman smartly dressed in sensible shoes and a proper skirt and blouse I told her I had business to take care of. I would call her. Thanks for a nice evening. She frowned and then turned brusquely and hailed a cab. Don’t bother to call she yelled at me as she got inside.

That fast that date was gone from my sight and from my memory as I pursued this lady in red. Cliche I know but she was actually in red. But probably no lady.

I saw her go out of the alley at the end of it and run to the right. I picked up my pace but by the time I got to the end of the alley and turned she was gone. Looking down I saw her red handbag. 

Why would a woman who could run like that in an alley have dropped her handbag? I had no idea but opened it to see if there would be any hints inside of who she was or where she lived. 

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a small revolver. Then in a corner of the bag, I saw a pack of matches. Why would a woman with a lighter need matches? And where was this Lucky’s that it advertised? That’s all that was in there.

I didn’t smoke and didn’t need a gun that could potentially get me in trouble. So I tossed the bag into the alley against the wall. I tucked the matches into my shirt pocket and walked down the street where she had disappeared.

I looked in every store on that street for blocks. She was nowhere to be found. Sometimes I asked a store clerk if a pretty woman in red had been in today. The usual response was no and if they had seen her they would have remembered. I agreed. I sure did. Remember.

After searching late into the night I got hungry and thirsty and decided I had better get something. I wanted to get her but that wasn’t happening yet so I called my buddy and told him about my blind date and my evening since.

He laughed and said that he was never going to fix me up again but at least I got some matches out of it. Funny guy. Just before I hung up he told me that when he got home that night there was a pack of matches leaning up against the front door. He hadn’t thought anything of it and had just kicked them aside and gone inside. 

Go outside. Now. Find those matches and tell me what they advertise. I hadn’t told him what was on the outside of the ones I had found in the lady’s purse. Get them if you ever want to borrow my car again.

Ok, ok, he told me as I heard him walk to the door, open it, and go outside. Hey, here they are. Good thing the breeze hadn’t blown them away yet.

So where are they from? What does it say? Hold on a minute take it easy he said. Ok, here it is. I’ve never heard of this place and you know I’ve been to a lot of places in town. Lucky’s. That’s what it says.

I went silent. Lucky’s? I knew that was it but to be sure I pulled out the matches that I had from her purse. There it was. Lucky’s. How had those matches gotten to my house?

And now I knew why she had dropped her purse when she obviously knew how to run in heels like an athlete. She dropped it for me. She wanted me to find it. But why?

If she wanted me that bad all she had to do was wait at the end of the alley when she saw me chasing her. No need to drop her purse and then drop matches at my place. Why was she doing this? What did she want to see? What was she after?

I grabbed some coffee and a danish, both day old by that point, and sat on a bench. Drinking and eating I tried to find Lucky’s on the browser of my phone. Nothing was showing up. It looked like I wasn’t getting lucky that night, or the bar.

So I went home, grabbed a shower and a few hours of sleep, and then headed back out to look for her. To look for Lucky’s. Didn’t the bar or whatever it was, know that these days if you wanted to survive you had to have a website? Or at least be listed on Google. 

Nothing. All day long I looked. In the evening I went back to where I had first seen her, parked, and was getting out of my car across the street. There she was. Dazzling. Seductive. Smiling over at me as she turned and walked down the alley. Dressed in red again. A different dress this time but still red. Still tight and showing every curve she had. The dress was different but the heels were the same. Red. Luxurious bright red. High heels. Spiked.

I walked quickly across the street and followed her down the alley until she twirled around and stopped. Right in front of me. I could breathe her in. But barely. I could hardly breathe. My heart pounding out of my chest.

Tag. You’re it. She said as she gently touched my chest. She stepped closer until her face was inches from mine. I think you have something I want she whispered. I know you have something I want I whispered in return.

She kissed me. Gently at first. I pulled her tight and felt her bend against me as the kiss lingered.

Then she pulled back and put out her hand and asked for the matches. I gave her the pack from the night before. 

Then looking past her to the end of the alley I saw my blind date from the night before. She walked towards us. She smiled as she reached into a red handbag, the red handbag, from the night before. 

She pulled out the revolver and pointed it towards me. The lady in red stepped aside and spoke to her. You are such a drama queen. Don’t be mad at him. Who could resist me? Just look at me, and look at yourself. Who wouldn’t choose me?

Anger raged in my blind date’s face. But her hand was steady as she walked closer with the revolver pointed at my chest. She glanced over at the red seductress. You shouldn’t have borrowed my handbag without asking.

I just figured I could take your bag if I could take your man. Sorry for taking it though. I know it’s your favorite. I’ll make it up to you. His buddy is cute. I’ll get him for you.

The bullet tore through my chest as I collapsed in the alley. The last thing I saw was the two of them walking away together. The last thing I heard was the lady in red laughing and calling my blind date by what must have been her nickname, Lucky.