Wednesday, May 16, 2007
These are links to my other personal blogs:
Deconstructing Elisha , Leaving London 1999
Marooned on Tortola , Becalmed in Marin
In the Land of the Locust , Elisha's Boston Tea Party
Deconstructing Elisha , Leaving London 1999
Marooned on Tortola , Becalmed in Marin
In the Land of the Locust , Elisha's Boston Tea Party
The details of the intrigue which first drew me home
First to Los Angeles, then out to Boston and then 'shanghaied' to London. The conspiracy would have made the most ardent adherents of the ‘Novus Ordo Mundi’ incredulous by comparison. In any event it began, as always, with my dearest friend J.J. Wells spinning her web from London to create the perfect Elisha trap set and laid with its inevitable result - within three weeks she arrived with myself in tow at London’s Heathrow.
What forced my return to London, my old home, was no small thing and life is never simply a proposition that involves mere cause and effect. Ultimately I chose to return, at JJ’s urging to face my demons, the quick as well as the dead.
After stopping momentarily at JJ’s flat in St. Anne’s Court to drop off baggage, and it being something of a ‘global warming’ perfect spring day, we decided to embark on an outing to greet the old city together. JJ offered it might be nice if we could perhaps grace the crowds promenading Victoria Embankment at the River Thames with our presence, and I agreed.
My old London had changed in ways too numerous to list since my departure at the closing of the last millennium, yet the underlying character had somehow remained. And aside from such eyesores as the Millennium Dome and Wheel, the old city never looked better, though I’ve since learnt one should properly refer to it as ‘The London Eye’, and not merely as a ‘ferris wheel’. But as the tourists seem to truly enjoy these eyesores and are confined to their location south of river, I imagine they shall most likely be spared the wrecker’s ball for some time to come.
JJ and I strolled together along Victoria’s Embankment, arm in arm conversing and sharing our typical little nothings. After a bit we paused to rest upon a bench suited for viewing both passing crowd and Thames river traffic. We were very near the beautiful ‘Cleopatra’s Needle’ set at river’s edge complete with its pair of wonderful and mysterious great bronze guardian sphinxes. The ancient Egyptian obelisk, having nothing whatsoever to do with its royal namesake, had successfully weathered London smog and the odd Zeppelin aerial bombardment for well over 150 years. Before that, this phallic prominence stood at erectile attention for the better part of 2000 years in the land of Pharo before being somewhat rudely abducted as a trophy of British empire building. I enjoy imagining it has at long last retired from its earthly travels and shall remain in place enjoying hesitant London sunshine and gawking digital-camera-clicking tourists 'till the riddle of the Great Sphinx itself is revealed. That or until the Egyptian government addresses its repatriation with the next ultraliberal British Government. Given that possibility, can any of us ever imagine being left truly and forever at rest?
As we sat upon the bench, I closed my eyes to lean head back to better catch the welcomed warmth of spring sunshine. My jet-lagged neck and mind slowly recovered and any pointed thoughts I might have been entertaining were left for naught. There the two of us remained quietly relaxing for what seemed a comforting eternity.
First to Los Angeles, then out to Boston and then 'shanghaied' to London. The conspiracy would have made the most ardent adherents of the ‘Novus Ordo Mundi’ incredulous by comparison. In any event it began, as always, with my dearest friend J.J. Wells spinning her web from London to create the perfect Elisha trap set and laid with its inevitable result - within three weeks she arrived with myself in tow at London’s Heathrow.
What forced my return to London, my old home, was no small thing and life is never simply a proposition that involves mere cause and effect. Ultimately I chose to return, at JJ’s urging to face my demons, the quick as well as the dead.
After stopping momentarily at JJ’s flat in St. Anne’s Court to drop off baggage, and it being something of a ‘global warming’ perfect spring day, we decided to embark on an outing to greet the old city together. JJ offered it might be nice if we could perhaps grace the crowds promenading Victoria Embankment at the River Thames with our presence, and I agreed.
My old London had changed in ways too numerous to list since my departure at the closing of the last millennium, yet the underlying character had somehow remained. And aside from such eyesores as the Millennium Dome and Wheel, the old city never looked better, though I’ve since learnt one should properly refer to it as ‘The London Eye’, and not merely as a ‘ferris wheel’. But as the tourists seem to truly enjoy these eyesores and are confined to their location south of river, I imagine they shall most likely be spared the wrecker’s ball for some time to come.
This is not to say I am completely critical of these monstrosities, and in fact there is one redeeming feature of the Dome in particular which I certainly do appreciate. It was constructed so as to permit the Prime Meridian to transect its structure precisely through centre, a detail I find particularly poetic and beautiful. For those less than conversant in such niceties of navigation as latitude and longitude, the Prime Meridian would perhaps not seem such a remarkable feature. And in truth, it is essentially a mental construct having no real existence apart from the universal agreement that it does exist by those with a need to know. That it was established at and by a marvellous little observatory still located south of London at Greenwich, is a matter of history. Though I understand, at the world-wide conference convened in 1884 at Washington D.C. to confirm the status of this line for the benefit of mankind, the French delegation abstained, refusing to recognise its existence, even if only virtually. Their government ministers preferred instead to reference the greater universe against an imaginary line drawn by their astronomers through the centre of their beloved Paris. I imagine for Gallic marine forces, there it was to remain for many decades. Not withstanding, the remainder of the civilised world voted to adopted the Greenwich based geodesic, which even the most diminutive GPS chip obeys to this day. So much for all roads leading to Paris.
JJ and I strolled together along Victoria’s Embankment, arm in arm conversing and sharing our typical little nothings. After a bit we paused to rest upon a bench suited for viewing both passing crowd and Thames river traffic. We were very near the beautiful ‘Cleopatra’s Needle’ set at river’s edge complete with its pair of wonderful and mysterious great bronze guardian sphinxes. The ancient Egyptian obelisk, having nothing whatsoever to do with its royal namesake, had successfully weathered London smog and the odd Zeppelin aerial bombardment for well over 150 years. Before that, this phallic prominence stood at erectile attention for the better part of 2000 years in the land of Pharo before being somewhat rudely abducted as a trophy of British empire building. I enjoy imagining it has at long last retired from its earthly travels and shall remain in place enjoying hesitant London sunshine and gawking digital-camera-clicking tourists 'till the riddle of the Great Sphinx itself is revealed. That or until the Egyptian government addresses its repatriation with the next ultraliberal British Government. Given that possibility, can any of us ever imagine being left truly and forever at rest?
As we sat upon the bench, I closed my eyes to lean head back to better catch the welcomed warmth of spring sunshine. My jet-lagged neck and mind slowly recovered and any pointed thoughts I might have been entertaining were left for naught. There the two of us remained quietly relaxing for what seemed a comforting eternity.
JJ gently took up my hand and began to stroke it softly. I was so enjoying the sun on face and hair, I almost hadn’t noticed her voice as I regressed into the moment. "It is this very week you understand my dear, surely you recall, I felt certain you would. It seems to my mind as if it were merely yesterday. How life tends to fly for the two of us at times." JJ spoke soothingly but I knew her conversation was thrown out towards me as if bound with steel leader ending in a small golden hook.
I feigned no response for an eternal moment, but knew well that in the end I’d bite. As if a great emotion filled fish like myself could possibly ignore and escape her schemes once set. Even as I felt our emotional waters to be well 'chummed', I turned slowly towards her and smiled asking what the sweet dear could possibly have meant. Her response showed plainly that I had already been gigged and landed.
"Why, the twenty-fifth anniversary of your young man and ship and all. You know dear, I do believe the news people have been so on about this with their reporting of remembrances and so forth over these past many weeks. From all their talk one at times might imagine it had been nothing less than the anniversary of the Third World War itself. I do wonder why they bother so about such things in the past."
Yes, my young man and ship and all indeed! Thankfully, until that moment, I had managed quite well to have successfully placed such things out of sight and mind. And now JJ was wanting to bring it all back to me as if a recurrence of such emotional malaria was a healing thing.
"Oh Elisha, you were so beautiful then. I should imagine you were all of twenty-four or twenty-five if that. And your young man, he was so hansom in that fine uniform of his. You know, I must say you two did look the perfect couple together back then. Do you ever bother to recollect such things for yourself any longer my dear?"
Had it truly been as long as that since our young lives had been so cruelly scorched? As I returned with eyes closed to face the sun and regain the moment once again, JJ continued softly stroking my hand. I imagined it had been far too long a time for anyone to be forced to recall such memories, and JJ certainly understood this. I wondered why she would ever do such a thing just now?
Lives are made as pearls are born. Layer upon layer of our passing lives are formed around intrusive irritating moments until they flow smooth and white and clean. I myself was starting to become just a little irritated as JJ attempted to draw such moments from my own life from layers far too deep within one of my life’s blackest pearls. Against better judgement and my own wishes, I slowly began to awake long sleeping details of how I had first met and fallen in love with my long lost and forever young man.
It was a celebration hosted, of course, by JJ herself
"Why, the twenty-fifth anniversary of your young man and ship and all. You know dear, I do believe the news people have been so on about this with their reporting of remembrances and so forth over these past many weeks. From all their talk one at times might imagine it had been nothing less than the anniversary of the Third World War itself. I do wonder why they bother so about such things in the past."
Yes, my young man and ship and all indeed! Thankfully, until that moment, I had managed quite well to have successfully placed such things out of sight and mind. And now JJ was wanting to bring it all back to me as if a recurrence of such emotional malaria was a healing thing.
"Oh Elisha, you were so beautiful then. I should imagine you were all of twenty-four or twenty-five if that. And your young man, he was so hansom in that fine uniform of his. You know, I must say you two did look the perfect couple together back then. Do you ever bother to recollect such things for yourself any longer my dear?"
Had it truly been as long as that since our young lives had been so cruelly scorched? As I returned with eyes closed to face the sun and regain the moment once again, JJ continued softly stroking my hand. I imagined it had been far too long a time for anyone to be forced to recall such memories, and JJ certainly understood this. I wondered why she would ever do such a thing just now?
Lives are made as pearls are born. Layer upon layer of our passing lives are formed around intrusive irritating moments until they flow smooth and white and clean. I myself was starting to become just a little irritated as JJ attempted to draw such moments from my own life from layers far too deep within one of my life’s blackest pearls. Against better judgement and my own wishes, I slowly began to awake long sleeping details of how I had first met and fallen in love with my long lost and forever young man.
It was a celebration hosted, of course, by JJ herself
I barely twenty-four and quite single, had been struggling to complete my work at university with varying degrees of success. Dear JJ felt I required a distraction from all the nonsense of school and demanded I assist her at bringing in the new year of 1982 along with a gathering of her closest friends. For the most part I was little acquainted with her circle of friends but was game to join in the fun and perhaps be of some assistance to JJ in her social climb. As for whom to invite and what to prepare, JJ had always avoided recipes tending towards guaranteed results, and this certainly went for horderve, drink and guest as well.
I recall sitting quietly upon a small bright yellow divan covered in a golden floral pattern. It was situated in the only remaining unoccupied corner of JJ's celebration filled flat. Though I was certainly enjoying the music, an eclectic mixture of the Ramones, Supertramp, ELO, Sex Pistols, Roxymusic, and Abba, I was finding it quite the task melting into the gathering of assembled guests. Although a few friendly, though somewhat overly eager young men had attempted to take up position alongside on the yellow divan, none were up to the task of polite conversation and each in turn eventually wandered off in search of easier game, I imagine. After a time I was getting quit weary of both myself, the company, as well as the mystery cocktails being handed out so liberally. I was imagining the best moment and course in which to make my exit when I spied JJ entering the room. She had a rather hansom young man in tow by the arm, resplendent in Royal Navy uniform. From the expression on his face, he had obviously become a recent and unwilling victim of one of JJ’s plots to expand her personal court.
"Dear Elisha, I’ve scoured the wharves of empire and country and you simply won’t believe what I’ve discovered at long last for your amusement." JJ smiled with the young man in hand adding, "And you sir, I wish for you to make an acquaintance of my dear friend Elisha. Don't let her fool you, she certainly has her ways, but I can assure you shall discover her to be the most charming girl you could ever wish to meet." With that JJ lead him directly to be forcefully seated along side with myself on the yellow divan. "Now my good man, this shall be your station for the evening and you must not abandon this post under any conditions until relieved. Is this understood?"
The overwhelmed and outclassed young man surrendered immediately and unconditionally by placing hand to brow and offering a firm but smiling salute to my JJ adding, "Yes sir mum sir!" JJ smiled as if mission accomplished.
"Now you two must see what mischief you can manage before this night is out. Is this agreed?", and she gave me a quick knowing smile and returned to the join the rest of her court leaving the young man and myself to wonder whether our having been made an acquaintance of J.J. Wells had been a blessing or a curse.
For a moment neither of us quite knew what to say to one another, but that discomfort passed quickly as his clear eyes and bold smile were wining the day. I offered him my most positive remaining smile and shared what little of interest in my life there was to tell, mostly of the recent trying times I had been experiencing at university in attempts to complete my schooling and get on with my life. I remember asking how he had first encountered Ms. Wells, and in answer he merely smiled, rolled his eyes and took a large drink of my mystery cocktail. I laughed and told him not to worry as he was merely the newest convert to JJ-ism, the fastest growing disorganised faith in our world.
The concoction that JJ’s commandeered barmen were turning out in the kitchen by the vase-full, and offering up as cocktails to guests, seemed a cross of bitter narcotic laced cough remedy and sweet hallucinogen, with more than a hint of inexpensive Scotch. Needless to say, it developed its following as the evening wore on.
After the young man and I had managed two or three of the mystery cocktails, he slowly began revealing details of himself and his life in larger and less halting pieces, each offered up as if avoiding certain uncomfortable personal details. I soon discovered he had just turned 29, had been in naval service for a number of years and was quite married, though there were no children. He told me of the ship he had recently been assigned and how he expected it to be sent on patrol to somewhere in the mid-east, but if all went well he was expecting to return by Easter. When asked further about his wife and their lives together, he confided they had been together for two very long years and that from the very start it had not been a good marriage. I was saddened as I slowly began to realise how he was wed to a perfect shrew of a woman who seemingly despised each dream and every detail of his life. He told me they had at long last managed to separate after Christmas and that she had finally initiated divorce proceedings, a prospect which seemed to bring a smile to his face. He was looking forward to his eventual departure from Her Majesty’s service in early summer and spoke at some length about future prospects in civilian life. He mentioned details of a position he had been offered with an engineering firm managing services for various North Sea oil construction projects.
As he spoke, I began to feel his life and mine were somehow becoming inexorably intertwined. I can’t precisely fathom the reasons, but the feeling of having met an old friend was quite palpable to myself at the time. Of course we were both falling in love at that very moment and there being neither rhyme nor reason for such things, as in so much of life, we abandoned preconceptions and simply let feelings take their course. As we paused our conversation and our eyes met, we both began to realise what was transpiring between us together on that little yellow divan. Quite spontaneously he placed an arm around me and offered up our first eternal kiss to which I responded very much in kind. Gently and quietly we managed a loving retreat to JJ’s nearby master bedroom, but as we opened the door we discovered the large bed had become quite filled to overflowing with assorted wraps, scarves and gloves place there by the many guests. We smiled to one another at this momentary inconvenience, while we lovingly embraced, first kissing and kneeling and caressing but soon rolling to the carpeted floor together. There we lost our individual forms as we were both softly locked into an image of eternal love, as sounds of celebration welcoming in the new year rang outside the room.
The two of us continued to meet at my small flat over the coming days
I recall sitting quietly upon a small bright yellow divan covered in a golden floral pattern. It was situated in the only remaining unoccupied corner of JJ's celebration filled flat. Though I was certainly enjoying the music, an eclectic mixture of the Ramones, Supertramp, ELO, Sex Pistols, Roxymusic, and Abba, I was finding it quite the task melting into the gathering of assembled guests. Although a few friendly, though somewhat overly eager young men had attempted to take up position alongside on the yellow divan, none were up to the task of polite conversation and each in turn eventually wandered off in search of easier game, I imagine. After a time I was getting quit weary of both myself, the company, as well as the mystery cocktails being handed out so liberally. I was imagining the best moment and course in which to make my exit when I spied JJ entering the room. She had a rather hansom young man in tow by the arm, resplendent in Royal Navy uniform. From the expression on his face, he had obviously become a recent and unwilling victim of one of JJ’s plots to expand her personal court.
"Dear Elisha, I’ve scoured the wharves of empire and country and you simply won’t believe what I’ve discovered at long last for your amusement." JJ smiled with the young man in hand adding, "And you sir, I wish for you to make an acquaintance of my dear friend Elisha. Don't let her fool you, she certainly has her ways, but I can assure you shall discover her to be the most charming girl you could ever wish to meet." With that JJ lead him directly to be forcefully seated along side with myself on the yellow divan. "Now my good man, this shall be your station for the evening and you must not abandon this post under any conditions until relieved. Is this understood?"
The overwhelmed and outclassed young man surrendered immediately and unconditionally by placing hand to brow and offering a firm but smiling salute to my JJ adding, "Yes sir mum sir!" JJ smiled as if mission accomplished.
"Now you two must see what mischief you can manage before this night is out. Is this agreed?", and she gave me a quick knowing smile and returned to the join the rest of her court leaving the young man and myself to wonder whether our having been made an acquaintance of J.J. Wells had been a blessing or a curse.
For a moment neither of us quite knew what to say to one another, but that discomfort passed quickly as his clear eyes and bold smile were wining the day. I offered him my most positive remaining smile and shared what little of interest in my life there was to tell, mostly of the recent trying times I had been experiencing at university in attempts to complete my schooling and get on with my life. I remember asking how he had first encountered Ms. Wells, and in answer he merely smiled, rolled his eyes and took a large drink of my mystery cocktail. I laughed and told him not to worry as he was merely the newest convert to JJ-ism, the fastest growing disorganised faith in our world.
The concoction that JJ’s commandeered barmen were turning out in the kitchen by the vase-full, and offering up as cocktails to guests, seemed a cross of bitter narcotic laced cough remedy and sweet hallucinogen, with more than a hint of inexpensive Scotch. Needless to say, it developed its following as the evening wore on.
After the young man and I had managed two or three of the mystery cocktails, he slowly began revealing details of himself and his life in larger and less halting pieces, each offered up as if avoiding certain uncomfortable personal details. I soon discovered he had just turned 29, had been in naval service for a number of years and was quite married, though there were no children. He told me of the ship he had recently been assigned and how he expected it to be sent on patrol to somewhere in the mid-east, but if all went well he was expecting to return by Easter. When asked further about his wife and their lives together, he confided they had been together for two very long years and that from the very start it had not been a good marriage. I was saddened as I slowly began to realise how he was wed to a perfect shrew of a woman who seemingly despised each dream and every detail of his life. He told me they had at long last managed to separate after Christmas and that she had finally initiated divorce proceedings, a prospect which seemed to bring a smile to his face. He was looking forward to his eventual departure from Her Majesty’s service in early summer and spoke at some length about future prospects in civilian life. He mentioned details of a position he had been offered with an engineering firm managing services for various North Sea oil construction projects.
As he spoke, I began to feel his life and mine were somehow becoming inexorably intertwined. I can’t precisely fathom the reasons, but the feeling of having met an old friend was quite palpable to myself at the time. Of course we were both falling in love at that very moment and there being neither rhyme nor reason for such things, as in so much of life, we abandoned preconceptions and simply let feelings take their course. As we paused our conversation and our eyes met, we both began to realise what was transpiring between us together on that little yellow divan. Quite spontaneously he placed an arm around me and offered up our first eternal kiss to which I responded very much in kind. Gently and quietly we managed a loving retreat to JJ’s nearby master bedroom, but as we opened the door we discovered the large bed had become quite filled to overflowing with assorted wraps, scarves and gloves place there by the many guests. We smiled to one another at this momentary inconvenience, while we lovingly embraced, first kissing and kneeling and caressing but soon rolling to the carpeted floor together. There we lost our individual forms as we were both softly locked into an image of eternal love, as sounds of celebration welcoming in the new year rang outside the room.
The two of us continued to meet at my small flat over the coming days
As university and Her Majesty’s service permitted we came together speaking of dreams for a future together. Such thoughts seemed to expand until both our hearts were filled beyond measure. For us it was a time of love and tender dreams.
A day prior to his scheduled departure we agreed on a most wonderful scheme, a sort of marriage in absentia whereby we each would share our vows and exchange two plain gold bands. For the ceremony, we met before the pair of great bronze sphinx guardians of the Egyptian obelisk along the River Thames. That monument became both our very personal but sacred chapel and alter upon which we pledged our eternal troth. We exchanged our simple golden rings and offered a prayer to once again meet there upon his return. For our witnesses, we chose the great pair of bronze sphinxes and strolling tourists. Our perfect wedding had taken only a few moments but after our closing embrace and glorious final kiss, we departed and went our separate ways. My young man to join his ship and mates and I to struggle through final term at university with a third small life growing within.
Incredibly, I had felt the child taking it’s place in our lives on that very first night we made love at JJ’s New Year celebration, though there is no logic in this perhaps. Still, over the coming months that initial sense was confirmed. I was with child and it made me feel wonderful beyond description for the new life we would share upon my young man's return. I prayed time would pass quickly and that day arrive soon.
We wrote quite often to one another, though his letters arrived in the post at irregular intervals dependent upon the course and position of his ship, but when any did arrived, I felt momentarily reborn. He wrote of expectations for a return to Portsmouth towards the beginning of April and that I should join him there. I was so excited, but of course I should meet him immediately as he disembarked his ship. We would embrace and kiss and I would beg him to tell me tales of the things he had seen and wonderful places he had been. He, of course, would place his arms about my waist, smile and ask what mischief I’d been up to. Then I should smile and quite matter-a-fact take and place one of his hands over my belly and offer not another word. I could well imagine his face changing from smile to puzzlement to wonder. And after an interminable pause a great smile would grace his wonderful face. We would laugh and cry and complete our spectacle by walking away together from the ship and dock and towards our beautiful and newly shared lives.
But in truth the ultimate fate of our lives was even then set as securely as a teetering house of cards awaiting only ultimate collapse. Each destructive breath so capricious and slight brought our lives closer to ruin. Ours was the arrival at the start of April of news that Argentine forces had landed on a group of far off islands whose name I could barely recall from middle school geography. I’ve since learnt the story of this landing in force being merely the inevitable though misguided nationalistic outcome of events, itself having been driven by a pathetic story involving an Argentine junk dealer being prevented from retrieving scrap metal at a long abandoned whaling station by a misguided low level UK bureaucrat.
My young man's ship never managed its return to Portsmouth, being redirected to immediately take up its place for the island's defence. No matter the misguided cause, missile or bureaucrat, his life came to a sudden and pointless end in a frightful blaze aboard an unremarkable destroyer in Her Majesty’s Fleet in waters off Argentina. As I had not been his wife by law, there was no requirement for the Ministry of Defence to inform me of his death, so that exquisite and singular revelation was left to life's circumstance.
A day prior to his scheduled departure we agreed on a most wonderful scheme, a sort of marriage in absentia whereby we each would share our vows and exchange two plain gold bands. For the ceremony, we met before the pair of great bronze sphinx guardians of the Egyptian obelisk along the River Thames. That monument became both our very personal but sacred chapel and alter upon which we pledged our eternal troth. We exchanged our simple golden rings and offered a prayer to once again meet there upon his return. For our witnesses, we chose the great pair of bronze sphinxes and strolling tourists. Our perfect wedding had taken only a few moments but after our closing embrace and glorious final kiss, we departed and went our separate ways. My young man to join his ship and mates and I to struggle through final term at university with a third small life growing within.
Incredibly, I had felt the child taking it’s place in our lives on that very first night we made love at JJ’s New Year celebration, though there is no logic in this perhaps. Still, over the coming months that initial sense was confirmed. I was with child and it made me feel wonderful beyond description for the new life we would share upon my young man's return. I prayed time would pass quickly and that day arrive soon.
We wrote quite often to one another, though his letters arrived in the post at irregular intervals dependent upon the course and position of his ship, but when any did arrived, I felt momentarily reborn. He wrote of expectations for a return to Portsmouth towards the beginning of April and that I should join him there. I was so excited, but of course I should meet him immediately as he disembarked his ship. We would embrace and kiss and I would beg him to tell me tales of the things he had seen and wonderful places he had been. He, of course, would place his arms about my waist, smile and ask what mischief I’d been up to. Then I should smile and quite matter-a-fact take and place one of his hands over my belly and offer not another word. I could well imagine his face changing from smile to puzzlement to wonder. And after an interminable pause a great smile would grace his wonderful face. We would laugh and cry and complete our spectacle by walking away together from the ship and dock and towards our beautiful and newly shared lives.
But in truth the ultimate fate of our lives was even then set as securely as a teetering house of cards awaiting only ultimate collapse. Each destructive breath so capricious and slight brought our lives closer to ruin. Ours was the arrival at the start of April of news that Argentine forces had landed on a group of far off islands whose name I could barely recall from middle school geography. I’ve since learnt the story of this landing in force being merely the inevitable though misguided nationalistic outcome of events, itself having been driven by a pathetic story involving an Argentine junk dealer being prevented from retrieving scrap metal at a long abandoned whaling station by a misguided low level UK bureaucrat.
My young man's ship never managed its return to Portsmouth, being redirected to immediately take up its place for the island's defence. No matter the misguided cause, missile or bureaucrat, his life came to a sudden and pointless end in a frightful blaze aboard an unremarkable destroyer in Her Majesty’s Fleet in waters off Argentina. As I had not been his wife by law, there was no requirement for the Ministry of Defence to inform me of his death, so that exquisite and singular revelation was left to life's circumstance.
Some many days latter
I recall clearly sitting in a shabby London café. There, left by another customer upon the small teetering table, was a soiled, slightly damp and torn copy of a London newspaper. As I drank the last cold dregs of coffee mixed with bitter ground at the bottom of my chipped cup, I opened and toyed with the pages of the cheap bundle of newsprint daydreaming in pastel comfort. And there I noticed, set beneath an advertisement for a new washing powder, the alphabetised listing of those thus far reported killed in the action on the far side of the world. My eyes ran down the listing and there, the name of my young man was spelt out perfectly and without error in its proper and alphabetised place in a column printed upon the damp and yellowed paper.
I slowly and softly set my emptied chipped cup down upon it’s stained saucer and began gently folding the remains of the filthy newspaper, all the while imagining the face of my lover in its every detail. With every stroke of my hand running along the damp edges of newsprint my mind began to see clearly the incredible wonderful folly of my life. My mind was light, as if in free-fall and plummeting towards an unseen hell not yet arrived. That arrival would be scheduled for the following day when I carried myself and unborn child into a clinic and at long last was offered their sweet absolution, and reconciliation.
When they had completed their tasks and my bleeding had ceased, I was presented with several documents to sign, and permitted to dress alone in the comforting glare of fluorescent light and antiseptic whiteness of the small room. I paused for many moments to stare at a single wall which was covered with a poorly organised collection of posters. Each were touting in its own poor and contradictory way a particular Ministry and what correct process was to be followed for achieving this or that state of health. I began to realise I had somehow found my way into a hell fueled by civility gone mad.
I struggled to gain my feet spending some moments gathering what wits I could manage. Through a small mirror set upon the far wall, I caught glimpse of a broken young woman, naked and alone but still somehow offering up her last broken smile. Slowly she turned towards me and placed hands together before her breasts as if in prayer. It appeared as if she were attempting to mark a line of symmetry to her cold and remote body along a meridian of pain and sorrow so profound that the entire universe should henceforth know it as Prime.
Finally, as I prepared to leave, a friendly dark smiling woman offered me a small packet of tablets and card with numbers upon it. I felt absolutely empowered as a woman as I hobbled from clinic door and disappeared into my waking dream.
Afterwards, I recall making my way to the pair of great bronze sphinx guardians of the obelisk overlooking the Thames. My eyes were clear and at last without tears. I watched my moving hand as it slowly graced the outline to one of the sculpted silent creatures lying upon its large and cold stone base. There steady finger managed to located a small and rough hole barely visible and much smaller than a child’s hand. It was a gash blasted through and into the hollow centre of the great bronze sphinx by the impact, explosion, and resulting shrapnel from a Zeppelin’s aerial bomb dropped to the nearby embankment during a long forgotten war. I smiled as I slowly removed the simple thin gold band from my finger and gently placed it into the small opening, an ancient wound to the flank of the sphinx. A whispered prayer left my lips as I let it fall inside for eternal safe keeping and there it has remained to this very day in the stomach of the silent beast. As for its mate, the other slightly larger thin gold band? I have been assured it shall remain safe for all time within the charred and abandoned war grave now quite secure at depth in the cold and blackness of a southern ocean. Alas, there never was a third quite smaller ring to share either's company.
"Are you feeling quite yourself, dear?", came the voice of my JJ. As I turned I could see her still gently stroking my hand and smiling. I told her I was feeling well enough and thanked her for sharing her company on such a wonderful spring day as this. It had brought back such beautiful memories to myself.
JJ slowly stood. "Dear, I think we shall make our little excursion of London this day short, if that is alright. What say you to a quick cab ride home and some luncheon, my dear, and then surely to rest." I stood joining her, hand still hand in hand, as we walked together slowly past the great pair of silent wounded sphinx guardians surrounded by attendant smiling and picture taking tourists.
'To save your world you asked this man to die:
Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?'
W.H. Auden, ‘Epitaph for the Unknown Soldier’
I offer myself to each new day as if the last, but in the deepest recesses of my heart I fear I await only that day known to God alone when we three shall again be permitted a loving embrace and be free to reclaim our lost rings.
Best wishes,
Elsiha
You may reach Elisha by e-mail at: elisha.moor@gmail.com
All writings and images © Copyright 2010 by the author, Elisha A. Moor
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