Haunted Mansion Stories- Uncle Myall

RIP IN MEMORIUM UNCLE MYALL

HERE YOU'LL REST FOR QUITE A WHILE[1]

Name: Chuck Myall[2]

Born: 1751

Died: 1844

EDITOR’S NOTE: The tale of Uncle Myall existed in two forms. The official record of his birth, legal troubles and death is found in government and family papers. The other version is a ghost story, told on dark nights to scare little children. We have combined the two for literary effect. The bulk of the tale comes from a recorded telling by Pete Renoudet[3], made shortly before his death in 1931.

“Come children and listen to my tale of the Zombie of Gracey Manor. Years ago, when I was just a boy, the Graceys were a respected family. Not loved…but respected.

            Old Ambrose was the first in New Orleans and plied the sea like a corsair. Even the fearsome pirate Jean Leffite was afraid of him and never came near his ship. Mrs. Juliet Gracey was mysterious, beautiful and ruled society with a velvet-clad glove.

            In 1829 she used her political connections (and a fair amount of dead Ambrose’s money) to secure the release of her Uncle Charles from Moreton Bay Settlement in Australia.”

            [Audible gasps from the crowd]

            “You do well to shudder at that name my little ones. Moreton Bay was a British deportation colony. Stories of that black hole could freeze a brave man’s heart.

            [Child #1] “But why was Charles there?”

            “That is a tale all on its own. Chuck Myall had a rare disease called somnambulism. It would make him rise in the middle of the night and walk about the house. He wasn’t awake yet not really asleep. He seemed odd and incoherant, talking and drinking but then never remember the events. Once he even danced a waltz while under the spell despite his chronic lack of rhythm.

            One night in 1823, the servants found him deep in conversation with the portrait of his sister-in-law Rose who had died 20 years previous. They began to argue about whether he should go visit his niece Juliet in America. This type of thing happened all the time with Charlie and no one paid any attention. However they took notice when he suddenly yelled, ‘Hallucinations have I!? You ungrateful little poppet. If you weren’t dead your father would have words for you!’ and splashed his glass of burgundy wine into her painted face.

            For the first time Charles got violent. All the family and staff could not control him and he escaped, running down the street screaming, ‘The Plura will have us all!!!’ Soon after a spectacular fight, in which the 72 year-old sent a few strapping coppers to the hospital, the police took him to prison.

            After a long and embarrassing trial (some say the family made a show of it and then abandoned the case to be rid of him) he was declared a menace to society and deported to that haven of lost souls, Moreton Bay.

             Five long years Charles worked for the colony’s Governor-General Donald Kahn[4]; painting walls and building scaffolds. Eventually they moved him into the mental ward. He had developed narcolepsy as a consequence of not getting enough rest in the night and so one could never be sure if Myall were awake or asleep. He was in a continual state of dazed consciousness which prevented any meaningful interaction. Charles was relieved of his work duties after two unfortunate mistakes: painting Kahn’s office a brilliant shade of pink and erecting a scaffold 27 feet tall.

            By 1829 Kahn was ready to be rid of him too and readily accepted the Widow Gracey's offer.

            Chuck’s oddities continued at his new home. He ordered the staff to serve him 12 raw eggs for breakfast and then poured them on the butler’s head. He would swim in the mud flats at the bayou’s edge and even rode through town naked insisting that he was Lady Godiva!

            The family slowly grew accustomed to Charlie’s antics and was greatly relieved when Elma’s new husband Richard Bell took a liking to the “crazy old man”. Those two became fast friends and would have a rollicking time at home or abroad. Charles doing the most amazingly unexpected things and Richard pretending it was all perfectly normal. More than one offended visitor commented on their way out the door that, ‘This entire house must be an insane asylum’.

            One favorite pastime was grouse hunting. More often than not Richard would turn to find his companion a hundred paces behind, fast asleep on his feet, covered in birds.

            Charles was a spry 79 years old when Master George Gracey Sr. and Mary began having children. Despite the obvious misgivings he never caused any harm to the babies and was as gentle with them as a new born lamb.

            Around this time was manifest perhaps the strangest of Charlie’s bizarre attributes: he could sense the ‘other side’.”

            [Child #2] “You mean ghosts ‘n stuff?”

            “That’s exactly what I mean. Just before young George jr. was born, Charles walked-up to Mary and, in a voice which the staff swore was old Devil Ambrose himself, said, ‘My grandson will be here soon. He has a touch of destiny about him and will end the curse we are under, if you protect him and keep him away from New Orleans.’

            From that moment, not a day passed that Charles didn’t have something spiritual happen. He saw ghosts, talked to the dead and knew things which no one else could possibly know. These ‘contacts’ happened so often that the Graceys learned to ignore him.

            When the younger children, Gladys and James, died in 1836 their mother began to frequent a local witch named D’Thave. She was always trying to contact the babes and apologize for letting them die. On the few occasions Madam Victoria came to the Mansion she was met by howls of anger from Charles and dire orations about plots, curses and tragic murders. By 1842 the friction between the young sorceress and the old crackpot had turned to open warfare. Charles would hurl things at the Medium and attempt to dissuade Mary at every turn. Richard did his part by making a game of the whole ruckus (he didn’t believe in any of this clap-trap).

Finally, in a pique of anger, Victoria stormed out of Le Bat en Rouge intent on finishing the old man. Much to her shock the objects of her loathing were busy hanging garlic, crosses and candles around the front of the shop and spraying the whole façade with Holy Water!

She fairly spat out the curse, “Cleave from bone, the spirit pure / Leave the flesh which n’er endures / No peace nor rest shall you find / For your essence now is mine!”

A thunderclap roared overhead and Richard Bell dropped like a stone. He had moved forward to confront the witch and stood between her and Charles at the moment of her spell. A crowd gathered quickly which saved Charlie from a similar fate.

No matter how often he told the story it was never believed and Chuck’s own mental condition was widely known. The police decided Richard died from dropsy (though only 42) and pursued no charges.

Within weeks a mysterious raven began to frequent the Mansion. Only Uncle Myall paid it any attention and he was often found talking to and stroking the bird lovingly. It was a sad day in 1844 when Charles Myall walked off the roof of the highest steeple while trying to catch his new pet. Uncle Charlie’s last words were, “Richard my friend…”

---

 

Haunted Mansion Stories- Good Friend Gordon

Although most Americans are familiar with graveyards and especially those set next to a church, many people don't remember that loved ones were often buried near their own homes. Perhaps it was just the times but mourners felt some measure of comfort in knowing their loved ones were nearby. Gracey Manor is possessed of an extensive graveyard where dozens of people associated with the house have found their final resting place. Tis a shame they don't rest in peace.

RIP GOOD FRIEND GORDON

NOW YOU'VE CROSSED THE RIVER JORDAN[1]

Name: Gordon Williams[2]

Born: 1819

Died: 1868

Gordon Williams was a man uniquely suited to his era. His bravura was unequalled, bravery unquestioned, intelligent to a fault and British through and through.  He was the epitome of the Victorian Age.

Gordon left home in 1826 and joined the British Navy as a powder monkey. He served in many battles including Navarino in 1827. After a decade in the service he was discharged and the 18-year-old had to make his way in the world. Knowing nothing but adventure he became an explorer and roamed much of Africa, Asia and the Middle East for over 30 years.

With British control of Egypt came serious study of the ancient Dynasties. Williams hired himself as a guide and assistant to prominent men and was involved in some of the most spectacular finds of the day. The Middle East was his playground.

It was on a solo expedition in late 1864 that Gordon discovered the tomb at Tel el-Amarna which was to change his life forever.

Buried in a most un-egyptian fashion under a pile of large nondescript rocks and sand, was a tiny staircase leading into the base of a nearby hill. No stele or inscriptions existed and there were no funerary books or jars. In every way it seemed that the residents there wished to remain anonymos and undisturbed. Williams explored the cave and found nothing but dirt. Disappointed, he turned to leave when a peculiar shape on the wall caught his eye. A half circle based by a perfectly straight line. Impossible to form naturally Gordon examined it closer to find a small but distinct crevase around the design. He gently pushed upon it and immediately a shower of sand began to fill the chamber. Luckily the precautious man had tied a rope around his waist connecting him to the door. He pulled mightily and ran for his life making it to freedom only after bathing in the yellow flood.

It took six months to clear the small room which insisted on refilling almost as fast as he could empty it. Finally in early April 1865 he managed a full study of the tomb. In a small ante-chamber behind a false wall he found the prize: a sarcophagus. Quickly Gordon opened the box and surveyed the mummified remains of a man and a woman buried together in an eternal embrace. He did not touch the pair for they were much more valuable in pristine condition. Wealthy aristocrats did enjoy their “unwrapping parties” and this pair would secure Gordon’s finances for the rest of his life. He did however make special note of the cartoush afixed to the lid and, thanks to Champollion’s work, Gordon was able to name the pair as Kheperkheperure (later known as Ay) and Akhenaten.

Through his contacts with a diplomat named Edward Gracey, Williams sold the pair to a young American, quit the desert and built a comfortable home on the African velt. For the first time in his adult life, Gordon had a place he could call his own.

The quiet life did not suit him well though and within a few months he was leading explorers and hunters all over the African interior. One special expedition was chartered by his old friend Edward and attended by none other than George Gracey jr., the nephew and man to whom he had sold mummies two years previous.

The safari was a smashing success and all felt invigorated by the adventure. Each man proved his mettle with gun and cutlass as they were raided by bandits many times and no one owe a life debt, as all were hero once or twice. George and Gordon were as brothers. Many an evening was spent listening to Gordon’s tales of ancient Pharaohs and mummy curses. The only disappointment was a terrible row between the Graceys on the next to last night. The family was never to speak again.

Fame and honor in the British Empire can lead to unusual events. As the Royal Albert Memorial Museum neared completion, word came to Gordon from Queen Victoria Herself. She desired him to oversee some of the exhibits, having heard of his extensive travels and intimate knowledge of the land. He of course accepted and in 1868 moved back to England, a stranger in his native land.

One evening, as he cataloged the lower Egypt pieces, he discovered an as yet untranslated papyrus. The royal cartoush look strangly familiar and he was only a few glyphs in before remembering an odd little tomb at Amarna which also spoke of Akhenaten.

Williams laboured through the work and soon realized it was a beautiful love letter from the Pharaoh to his vizir Ay. The oddity of this was striking to Gordon until it spoke of their “great secret”. The king was a woman in disguise! They had fooled the populace, the priests and foreign diplomats for 16 years!! The royal progeny were all of Ay not the wife of the Pharaoh and the pair longed to be united after death.

Flush with the excitement of this monumental discovery, Gordon made to find the curator. He had barely reached the staircase when something hard struck the back of his head and tore conciousness from him.

As he lay stupified a vision broke on his mind. A blazing Egyptian sun dropped to the horizon. The mighty Pharaoh stood in a field of battle surounded by enemies but proud and strong despite them. His vizir arrived in an iron chariot and drove away the foes. Then Akhenaten and Ay embraced for their love’s sake. A man, wearing the garb of a priest of Amun, raised-up and threatened to reveal their secret. Ay pierced him with a javelin but before dying he cursed them that, if any ever discovered the lie, they would be seperated forever. Then, unbelieveably, the spirits of Ay and Akhenaten stood before Gordon. They begged him to destroy the letter, never tell anyone and let them be in peace. Williams was a very practical man and did not believe what he had seen. The truth would be known.

Two days after his discovery, Gordon Williams went missing. No one in London could explain where he had gone and few would have accepted that within a year his corpse would be a mummy, prepared in the ancient fashion and dried in the hot western desert near Amarna. He was later sent to Master Gracey with some canopic jars under the pretense that they all belonged with the original sarcophagus. That is until the educated George read the hyroglyphic inscription on the new casket which read:

Gordon Williams

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Beware the Sons of Aten

George erected a tombstone for his friend Gordon at the mansion but never told anyone of his suspicions. “Let the dead keep their secrets”, he thought.

---

 

The Man Who Built His House Upon a Rock Ch 9 pt 2

She spent every possible moment of the next three days with Denis (as he preferred to be called). He was kind, thoughtful, understanding and very much the gentleman. He was on vacation and also visiting Paris for the first time. His had grown-up in Perpignan near the Mediterranean coast. Denis’ passion for history stemmed from a family tradition that Louise Labé, the poet and famous cross-dresser was an ancestor. Virginia thought this was very funny. Her first real kiss was that Sunday afternoon as she and her new friend parted for the last time.

“Denis, I am going to miss you. You have been such a good companion. Thank you.”

His eyes softened in the light reflecting off the Seine. “Petit chou, never have I met a woman so aware of who she is but not fixated upon herself. Most Americans think only about how they look. They are either too beautiful or too ugly. But you, you care for how you make others feel. Someday, you will make a lucky man very happy.”

The depth of their emotions made it impossible to leave with just words or a handshake. Their embrace in the golden sunset seemed to last for eternity. He drew back just enough to gaze into her eyes and then kissed her gently. She responded to the thrill that comes from the discovery of another. His arms were strong about her. The feel of his chest so broad and deep supported her, protected her. She melted into him, ready to be his.

His hands gently grasped around her shoulders but firmly pushed her away. He too desired more than was possible. “Alas, it is time to go.” His voice was unnaturally high. It quivered in the cool air, full of regret and finality.

“Denis, write to me, please. I know we can never be together but you will always be my special friend.”

“Certainement, ma chere amie.”

The downy memories of that time faded slowly from her. She was back in her room at home and packing for college.

The last item on her list was “Find a Best Friend”. The date remained empty as Ginni had never truly found one. Denis seemed like a good candidate but he lived on the other side of the world and her affection for him was confused at best. Some people may have sex at the drop of a hat but no one can become a Lover or best friend in a single weekend. This was something she couldn’t make happen and it bothered her severely. Ginni had always loved to-do lists and completing one gave her great satisfaction.

She looked frustrated for a second, angry that there was something she had not finished. Then the simplest of solutions came to her. Denis would always be special to her. He didn’t have to be just a checked off goal. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the list down to fifteen items. The offensive scrap of paper fell slowly to the floor.

“There, all done”, she said brightly while wadding the list into a ball and tossing it into the trash. She was not into nostalgia so much that she could not enjoy a job well done.

Now she was ready to leave for school.

Virginia took the campus by storm. Everyone knew her and no one could keep up. With her parents no longer calling the shots she was able to explore areas of knowledge previously inaccessible to her. She became a Special Advisor to the Student Government for Policy Development; headed fundraisers for a number of on- and off-campus charities; volunteered at the campus health clinic; and, just to round out her personality, made the varsity cheer squad.

In Ginni’s spare time, considerably more than most students since the bulk of her required classes were already behind her when she arrived on campus; she joined every club imaginable, including Dance Appreciation and the He-Man, Woman-Haters: a previously guys-only group dedicated to drinking while watching “Our Gang” and “The 3 Stooges”.

If Ginni’s mind and body had blossomed in the years before college, it was her personality that shone now. No longer did she interrupt people when she thought they were mistaken but listened carefully to everything they said. More often than not she found they had good reason to hold their obviously wrong opinions…or at least acceptable reasons.

She also grew a smidgeon more patient with others. There is an unfortunate side-effect of being a genius: one often finds it difficult to wait for normal people to catch up. Ginni always thought everyone spoke too slow, thought too slow, came to illogical conclusions and just acted like children. She arrived at school to find professors and students who were every bit as intelligent as she was, which served as quite the wake-up call.

All things considered, Virginia was extremely happy. Her natural goodness and kind nature made the adjustments easy. There were still those individuals who would mock or try to cause pain, but she had learned to ignore them graciously. There were associates and friends enough to make this the best time of her life.

Christmas break arrived and the Shelton’s were surprised that Virginia had no plans to come home for the holiday. Feeling hurt and even a little angry they called repeatedly to get nothing but her answering machine.

Hey! Ginni here. If you’re talking to the machine it means I’m out causing trouble. Leave a message and I’ll solve your problems later.

BEEP

“Virginia, its Mom. I’d like to talk about Christmas dear. Call me.”

BEEP

“Ginni, its Mom. Your Father and I would really like to see you. Please call.”

BEEP

“Virginia. It has been two days since I called. Is everything okay?”

BEEP

“Are you angry with us? I don’t know what we did but we can talk it out. Please call.”

BEEP

“Oh Ginni. Please call us! No one seems to know where you are. If we don’t hear from you by tomorrow we’re going to call the police.”

BEEP

“The police say they are going to start asking around for you. We’re coming up there.”

Mr. and Mrs. Shelton arrived on campus near dusk and immediately went to Campus Security. A single officer was on duty for the night shift and he wasn’t too interested in starting a missing persons investigation.

“Mrs. Shelton, I am sure your daughter is fine. These kids go off to school and just sort of forget all about home for a while. Except when they need money right?”

He gave a short chuckle which died quickly. The Sheltons were in no mood for jest.

“Look, the main problem is that she’s an adult. I can’t just go into her room without reason.”

“Reason!?” screamed Hannah. “She hasn’t called us in four days. This is the girl who calls every evening to tell us good night. You don’t think that’s odd?”

The deputy gave a great shuddering sigh.

“Ma’am, I did 20 years in the local Police Department and I’ve been here for another five. I’ve seen almost everything there is to see. Nothing strikes me as odd anymore. I know you are scared and worried. But I can’t go into her room without something more.”

Theo’s face was set like a mask. He had always supported the law but now, when for the first time he needed their help, they couldn’t do anything for him.

“If you thought someone had broken into her room, could you go in then?”

“Of course”, answered the officer. His voice betrayed a little suspicion.

“We’re going to go see if Ginni is in her dorm room. Thanks for your time officer.”

Hannah looked as surprised at the end of the interview as Officer Burdick. Her husband waved away the many protests she tried to make and just said, “Come, let’s go see Virginia.” He escorted her quickly out the door.

Doug Burdick was a conscientious man and cared deeply about others. He had just been on duty for far too many years and seen too many things. The horror was finally more than he could bear when he worked a child abduction case and found the boy’s mummified body stuffed in a sleeping bag and carried around by a long-haul trucker. The child had been dead for two years. After that he retired and joined the UVA Police. Not much emotional baggage in breaking-up frat parties and giving parking tickets.

Doug closed his eyes and shook his head. The image of that kid rose in his mind’s eye. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to the Shelton girl. His fist slammed hard on the desk, upsetting the large coffee cup.

“Why did these kids have to do this? They frighten their mothers and make everyone go nuts just ‘cause they don’t have the sense to remember that people care about them.”

He stood up, buckled on his gun belt and just reached the door when his phone buzzed.

“Campus Security, Officer Burdick here. Really? Door broken open? I’ll be right there.”

He arrived at Virginia Shelton’s dorm to find her parent standing in the hall. He looked closely at the door which obviously had been kicked in. Quizzically Burdick gazed fully into Theo’s eyes and saw the whole story. Mr. Shelton’s ankle was going to hurt tomorrow. But tonight he had his excuse.

“Miss Shelton? Miss Shelton! It’s Officer Burdick of Campus Security. I’m coming in.”

 Nothing seemed out of order. In fact, Burdick thought her room was abnormally organized. Everything seemed to be labeled, straightened, alphabetized and sorted. It was a bit like living in a library.

They moved carefully into the living room. There was her purse on the table next to a set of keys and a small wad of bills. He saw no signs of burglary or struggle. Mrs. Shelton moved quickly to the bedroom and despite Doug’s warning she pushed open the door.

There on the bed lay Virginia Shelton. Hannah rushed to her side and shook the girl furiously. As she turned over the smell of alcohol filled the room. Only then did they notice in the dim light a very large pile of beer and liquor bottles.

“Ginni! Ginni! Are you okay?”

The girl half awoke and muttered something about zombies then passed out again.

Her father was the first to notice the angry red irritation on her left inner arm where a brand new tattoo had been inked.

Officer Burdick was the only one to see the pair of men’s boxer shorts half under the bed. He toed them out of sight while their attention was occupied.

“No reason for them to learn about that right now”, he thought. “Damn inconsiderate kids.”

The Man Who Built His House Upon a Rock CH 9 pt 1

CH. 9

Cut and Polished Rock

Back

During the summer of her 16^th year, Virginia’s body suddenly caught up with her brain. The baby round face thinned into smooth angles; her braces came off; but most telling of all, her pencil thin figure began to swell in amazing ways. Girls who had once shamed her with their 32 inch b-cups were now gawking almost as much as the boys at Virginia’s 36C’s.

One admirer described her as having “stormy-grey eyes” set wide on a shapely oval face. Her mouth was lush and full, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth. Dark auburn hair reached to the middle of her back, soft and glimmering in the sun. Men young and old were struck dumb by her chameleon-like ability to remind them of their favorite celebrity. Some thought she was a young Victoria Beckham while others swore she could be Katy Perry’s little sister. Her own grandfather called her Audrey after the gorgeous Ms. Hepburn.

Possessing an athletic body, slim in all the right places, she also had curves to make Marilyn Monroe jealous. Perhaps the only faux pas to be seen was a set of overly-plucked, arching eyebrows that rose high on her forehead, giving her a perpetual look of surprise. Still, over-all, she was simple perfection and it was too much for most people to handle.

The girls who had mocked her so viciously in school now hated her with the jealousy which comes from being surpassed by your worst enemy. Ginni was smarter, prettier and nicer than any of them and they loathed her for it.

Amy Willingham had become Mrs. Swartz immediately after graduation and the ex-Mrs. Swartz a year later. Now she spent her days working as a cashier at the supermarket and part time doing the books for her father’s gas station. Virginia felt nothing but pity for her. Somehow Amy never could let go of the past even though Ginni tried making nice on several occasions.

Guys were another problem entirely. Once upon a time she had been able to amaze the adults with her intelligence. More than one businessman had come to discuss how they might improve their products or services. The mayor had even appointed her to the Planning Commission which made decisions about how the city would grow over time.

When she burst into full womanhood however the men began to treat her quite differently. Businessmen still wanted to talk to her, but now it was always over dinner or drinks. The mayor loved to have her on his arm at official functions, his wife glaring in the background. To make things worse, all the guys her own age were too intimidated and wouldn’t approach her at all. Ginni felt like a freak in her own home town and it made for a very lonely three years before she could escape to college.

By coincidence September 4th, the day Virginia was to check into her dorm and take orientation, also happened to be her 18^th birthday. Early that morning she raked through her room one last time, just to be sure that she had packed all the essentials. Mr. and Mrs. Shelton had told her time and again that there was nothing here in Vinton that she couldn’t buy on campus or in Charlottesville. They weren’t rich but with her full scholarship including room and board, they felt comfortable about her living standards.

“Mom!” she yelled, “Have you seen my red tap shoes?”

“What?” her mother called back. “I doubt if you are going to need them.”

“Ya never know. A variety show could spontaneously break out in the cafeteria.”

Hannah Shelton walked into the room and fixed her little girl with a ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding’ look.

“Oh fine”, she answered petulantly. “But if I miss my chance to star in a remake of A Chorus Line then it’ll be entirely your fault.”

Hannah shook her head and laughed. Ginni smirked and laughed with her.

“Sweetheart, relax. You’ve already done most of the work for your degree. You only need to take three classes. Go to school, have fun, meet people and experience new things.”

“Thanks Mom.” The relief on Ginni’s face was impossible to miss. Smart as she was, sometimes it was nice to get advice from your parents. Her lip began to quiver and then a tear ran down her cheek. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“I know baby. We’re going to miss you too. That’s why we kept you home for so long. But you’re ready now. Go and show the world how great you are.”

Her mother left closing the door quietly. Virginia sat down on the bed to think. Then she reached over to the metal bed post and unscrewed one of the ornamental caps. With two fingers she fished out of the pipe a rolled-up piece of binder paper. It was a list of goals she had written on her first day in Kindergarten. Their teacher had made such a list regarding how the students were to treat each other and what they wanted to learn. Her's was a bit more ambitious. It unfurled in her hands and Ginni began to examine the scribbles.

THINGS TO DO BEFORE COLLEGE

1. Get a cat.                                                              Mr. Tickles August 9, 1995

2. Convince Mrs. Simpson I do not need a nap.      September 21, 1995

3. Understand Shakespeare.                                     March 4, 1996/1998/2004

4. Become a ballerina.                                              Lessons 1996-1999

5. Find a unicorn and meet Santa.                            They don’t exist. 12/1995

6. Discover why boys are dumb.                              They are boys. 1997

7. Learn Latin                                                           MCMXCIX  

8. Learn Greek                                                          ,β

9. Master Algebra                                                     1998

10. Learn to roller skate                                           September 4, 1999

11. Teach my dad about Plank’s Constant               June 16, 2001

12. Meet Prince Charming                                        Still lives with his mother.

13. Get a cell phone                                                  After I get a job.

14. Study in Europe.                                                 Sept. 2005-June 2006

15. Do some good in the world.                               Everyday.

16. Find a best friend.

 She smiled at number 5 for a moment before the thought came to her, “I could take a molecular biology class. A little genetic manipulation might get me that unicorn. Millions of little girls would thank me.”

Prince Charming, number 12, had been one of the younger firemen in town named Derek. The seven-year-old Ginni had fallen head over heels in love with him until she found out that he lived with his mother. That didn’t bother her so much as the fact they had a mobile home instead of a castle.

It was during her trip to Europe that Ginni really began to bloom emotionally. She went on a Study Abroad program to England and visited Italy, Spain, France and Germany. Her class load was very heavy for the first time in her life and it was a bit of a shock. Never before had she been forced to actually study. She tried to enjoy that new experience more by sitting under the red canopy of the Brasserie de l'Île St-Louis café behind Notre Dame.

“Pardon moi, Mademoiselle.”

Ginni looked up from her History of the French Republics and saw the deep brown eyes of a young man. He was tall and just a bit scruffy in the easy way of guys who are completely comfortable with themselves.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t learned French yet”, she replied. For Virginia, there was no sense of things she did not know; only things she had not yet learned.

“Oh good”, he said, “Perhaps I may have a chance to practice my English.”

His English was very very good.

“My name is Aime Benoit Denis LeRoy. I could not help but see that you are reading about our French history. Might you be an American student?”

She nodded her head warily. He was several years older than her and this wasn’t the first time that an over anxious man had approached her unbidden. Some German guys old enough to be her father had pressed great huge mugs of beer into her hand during last fall’s Oktoberfest. Guys were the same everywhere

“I graduated last year with a degree in history. Perhaps I may offer my knowledge to you?”

Ginni squinted in an odd sort of way, like she was trying to tell the difference between a pet dog and a hungry coyote from across the meadow. Aime didn’t seem quite as dangerous as the last guys to hit on her. And he was cute.

“Hello Monsieur LeRoy. My name is Virginia. Some people call me Ginni.”

He smiled warmly and inclined his head.

“Ginni, may I sit down?”

“Of course”, she replied in a slightly too inviting tone. ‘Slow down girl’, she thought. ‘No reason to trust this guy just because he has the sweetest puppy-dog eyes!!’

The Man Who Built His House Upon a Rock Ch 8 pt 2

On the first Saturday after graduation Simon and Mr. Rappleye drove to the University of Virginia and met with Professor Rolf Grosskopf. The renowned physicist was on loan from the University of Munich where he had been working on particle physics as a path toward the Grand Unifying Theory. He had come to make use of the new laser developed at UVA. It could transmit massive quantities of energy into very tiny spaces. This would excite the particles which then gave off certain magnetic waves. Analyzing these might, in Grosskopf’s theory, explain how matter was structured at the very smallest level. To support his research, the German Genius (as he was snidely referred to) needed a team of the very best student assistants. Simon had earned his way onto the list of candidates.

“Zimon, I vish to know a leetle beet abowt you.” Grosskopf’s accent was so light and polished that there was no difficulty in understanding him. Simon felt as if he were in the presence of royalty.

“Well Sir, I just graduated with honors in all my basic courses. Additionally, I took private study with Mr. Rappleye here in which we covered advanced chemistry; college physics 1 and 2 as well as an introduction to Einstein’s primary theorems.”

“Yez, yez. Zat is all vell und gut.” He replied with an air of irritability. He seemed to feel that this interview was taking up too much of his valuable time.

“Zat information I can aqvire from your rrrecords. Vat I vant to know isss, Whoo…arrrre…you?”

The last three words were spoken so deliberately and with such an intense penetrating look that Simon felt momentarily frightened. If he had learned one thing over the past couple years though, it was that first impressions are very rarely correct. People can be far deeper that we suspect and this Sour Kraut was not what he appeared to be.

Simon straightened in his chair, allowed a grin to bloom on his face and said, “I am a young man with a gift for practical jokes. Helping people not take themselves too seriously is the thing I do best. I think beyond the paradigms and see possibilities no one else does.”

He leaned forward as if preparing to share a secret with a friend.

“I can help you. What I don’t know, I will learn. What you don’t know, we will discover. What can’t be known, is left to God.”

Mr. Rappleye took in a sharp breath. No one, ever, spoke to Grosskopf in this disrespectful manner. He was one of the top three physicists in the entire world. His work on quantum physics alone had brought new innovation in computers, manufacturing and medicine. It was a tribute to his loyalty that he maintained contact with the high school teacher despite their radically different accomplishments. Yet they were close, having met when their fathers worked together on military contracts years before.

“Rolf, I am very sorry, the boy…”

“Iss pair-fectly korrect. He can hilp me.” Grosskopf turned from his friend and looked Simon directly in the eye.

“You arre rroode, air-rogint und brilliant beyond your years. I’ve not zeen zuch a talent zince…vell zince myzelf. You vill come to ze univerzity und schtudy vit me. Your tazk vill be to keep me honezt. No zhort cuts, no bad re-zearch. You may not belief it but I lost zix months of ze last year because no von vass villing to tell me zat ze idea I vass vorking on had a zimple mistake vith ze addition! Qvatschkoepfen!”

“Professor,” began Simon in a far more subdued tone, “I am honored that you want me on your team but I have a small problem. My mother wants me to go to a community college and get my general education there. It would be two years before I came to UVA.”

Rolf looked at the young man thoughtfully.

“Tell me, vaht does your father think?”

“My dad died when I was a kid. It was just me and Mom and Grandma while I grew up.”

The older man, though only in his late fifties, once again seemed to peer right into Simon’s brain. This time he returned the gaze and found to his wonder a smile behind the harsh expression. Simon reciprocated the offer of respect.

“If zere iz von zing, zat ve Germans underztand better zan mozt people, it iz honor und duty. Go und do az your muhzer vishes. Zere vill be a plaze for you vehn you come beck.”

If it were possible, Simon became even more fixated on doing well than before his meeting with Grosskopf. Every waking moment was spent with his nose in a book or working out complex mathematical problems. There was a slight lapse on the regular classes at Virginia Western, managing a low B average. He was less than concerned now about English Literature since his acceptance at UVA was assured (thanks in no small part to the German’s considerable influence and threat to move all his work to UCLA). There seemed but a moment before he was a newly minted Associate of Science and heading for real discoveries.

August arrived with its hot muggy air that drained every ounce of energy from the body and mind. The only relief was an air conditioned room or dip in the cool lake. Grace decided it was the perfect time to head for the mall and get Simon his new school clothes.

“Ma”, he began in exasperation, “I’m 20 years old. I think I can buy clothes for myself.”

She barely heard him as her mind was chained to a pair of denim shorts which had been marked down 10%.

“MA! Will you go look at dresses or something? I love you but really, I don’t need your help with this.”

“What was that honey?” she muttered and then ploughed ahead with her thoughts; “I think these would look good on you. You’ve always had such cute knees.”

“Okay, that’s it. Ma, I wear 34X34’s. You can buy me 3 pairs of jean, two slacks, and some knee-length shorts. I’ll go get ev…ry…thing…e…l…s…e.”

At that moment his attention was distracted by a very attractive red-head across the store. She was trying out some running shoes and jogging in place to Simon’s great enjoyment. Grace suddenly became quite aware of her son’s focus and followed his gaze.

“She’s very pretty”, Grace said in an off-hand tone. “Have you ever seen her before?”

“She looks a little familiar”, he answered without breaking the hold his eyes had on the beautiful girl.

“Isn’t that Nancy Josephsen? You remember, she came to your 6^th birthday party.”

“No Ma, Nancy’s family moved to Georgia later that year. They said something about wanting to protect her from hooligans. Just ‘cause Billy Joe and I tried to teach her how to ride Buford.”

Simon chuckled to himself. Those days seemed a lifetime ago. He certainly wasn’t the same person anymore. The slightest wave of nostalgia flowed over him as he considered all the trouble he used to get into. Man that was a lot of fun.

The young woman continued her shopping and Simon could not help but stare. He didn’t think he had ever seen such graceful movement before. She glided from place to place and everyone else appeared ungainly compared to her. He was certain that she must be a dancer, a ballerina, because no motion was wasted or off-balance. His look hardened into the hungry leer of a wolf spotting a lamb.

The store loudspeakers blared out an announcement about a one hour 50% sale on cotton socks which grabbed his mother by the ear and led her off to hosiery. Then soft rock muzak billowed its usual dull fog over the customers. It was an older song which Simon kinda recognized. The words however seemed to be written just for this moment.

Hello, I love you

Won't tell me your name

Hello, I love you

Let me jump in your game

            Three years had gone by since Simon last had a date. That one had not ended well. A bunch of football players had tried to jump him in the middle of the gym. After that he was so embarrassed that he couldn’t look the girl in the face. She seemed relieved when he made a lame excuse and went home early. After that his experiences with women had been few and far between. Of course, if any of the girls at school had looked like this one, he would never have graduated.

She’s walking down the street

Blind to every eye she meets

Do you think you'll be the guy

To make the queen of the angels sigh

He cut across the housewares department to get in front of her at jewelry. She was absorbed in a lacy blue and gold dress and didn’t see him there smiling. As she passed he caught the faint whiff of vanilla and cinnamon. It may have only been the frosted rolls she carried in a bag but to Simon it was the most intoxicating perfume ever.

Hello, I love you

Won' t you tell your name

Hello, I love you

Let me jump in your game

Never shy before, Simon was stunned to discover that he had no voice. She was two steps away. Three steps.

“Hurry!” he thought, “before she gets away.” A bullfrog climbed from his throat and croaked something akin to, “Hoe-oh”.

The girl slowed and turned her head to see who had spoken but there was no one around. In a panic Simon ducked into the changing rooms behind him. Peering through the door slats he could see her look, shake out her long ember-red hair and move off to another part of the store.

She holds her head so high

Like a statue in the sky

Her arms are wicked and her legs are long

When she moves my brain screams out this song

“Idiot. You stupid, childish idiot. All you have to do is say ‘hello’.”

Hello

Hello

“She’s just a girl. A beautiful, fine, hot girl who’s so far out of your league…”

Hello

Hello

He took a huge breath and let it out slowly. He’d never been affected like this before. Part of him wanted to rush up and talk to her. The rest of him was quite glad she was out of sight.

Hello

Hello

Hello

Hello

The Man Who Built His House Upon a Rock Ch 8 pt 1

Ch. 8

Stepping Stones

Back

One morning Simon awoke from a very restless night’s sleep. He had dreamt about long tunnels with countless side doors and passages. No matter which way he turned there were more and more ways to go and none of them seemed particularly pleasant. Every choice he made only led to more danger, despite the crude map, drawn in crayon, which claimed to lead him to his heart’s desire. Getting there however, meant leaving behind the faintly lit corridors and plunging headlong into complete darkness.

It didn’t take a shrink or psychic to understand what his brain was trying to say. Simon knew that he hadn’t been the best kid in the world. All that goofing around wasn’t leading him anywhere. People didn’t laugh with him anymore and his mother was apologizing a lot too. The old desire to play jokes on people had, if not completely disappeared, settled into glowing embers which kept his funny bone warm. Nowadays the thought of some amazing prank was usually enough to satisfy him.

Young Mister Peters was growing-up just in time. School counselors and teachers were repeatedly warning the junior class that, “Now is the moment to make decisions about your future.” He would graduate high school in a year and a half and if he wanted to be accepted into a decent university there would have to be some serious changes.

He walked rather gloomily into the kitchen and poured a large bowl of his preferred breakfast: Mountain Dew over Capt’n Crunch cereal. His mother ambled in and looked with disgust at the yellow mush he was happily slurping into his mouth.

“Simon, how many times do I have to tell you ‘Eat a good breakfast’? That stuff is going to ruin your teeth and probably give you diabetes.”

He humphed loudly, spraying a sticky coating on the kitchen table. “I doon fink yuuuu cnn git diabee’ees yike yaht.”

Her hand was swift and accurate. He choked as she smacked him on the back of the head. “And don’t speak with your mouth full! If your grandmother were here she would thump you good.”

Gertrude had died of a stroke the year before. It was shocking to everyone who knew her as a very spry and young 76 year old. They had just attended an anniversary showing of Blazing Saddles down at the Roanoke Cineplex. Vinton boy Dave Huddleston played Mayor Olson Johnson and so the movie was put on the big screen once every five years. They always went because Granny attended a dance once with the ruggedly handsome actor while they were teens. She never let anyone forget that she had dated a movie star.

As they drove home that night Granny complained of a bad headache. Moments later she slumped against the passenger window. Grace skidded the car sideways onto the shoulder and frantically checked her mother’s pulse but it was too late. The right side of her face was sagging heavily and from her slack mouth came a few words about the sudden mist which had arisen. In his panic, Simon had tried furiously to convince her that the night was clear and beautiful. Somehow it was important to him, as if everything would be fine if she could just understand that fact.

They raced to the hospital but Granny was gone.

The funeral was a small and quiet affair. Most of her friends had already passed on. Grandpa Callaway died just a month after she had come to help out with Grace and Simon and they had all agreed it would be better if she were to remain with them. Grace chose a small cemetery in Washington D.C. for her mother’s final resting place. Trudy had never wanted to be parted from her husband in life or death and it was as close as they could get to Arlington where Grandpa was buried with honors for his service in Korea.

With Trudy gone, the small house seemed huge. Simon got his room back and didn’t know what to do with the privacy. Impossible as it seemed, the two of them often lost each other, calling-out in semi-panic whenever their paths had not crossed for too long a time.

Simon and his mother both aged a lot that year. Grace looked ten years older than her fifty-three years should have allowed. Simon decided that his raucous behavior had driven Granny to a grave of shame. When he talked to his mother about it she could only tell him, “That’s a heavy burden for a boy to carry.” But she didn’t say he was wrong.

Grace moved uncertainly around the kitchen as her son cleaned the gooey mess from around his bowl.

“Simon, I want to talk about what college you plan on applying to.”

“Right now Ma? I have to catch the bus in ten minutes and this cereal isn’t going to eat itself.”

She turned to look squarely in his face. Obviously she had been dying to have this conversation and wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

“I think you should go to Virginia Western. I know it is just a community college but you’ll save a lot of money from your college fund. You can live here and ride the bus every morning like now.” She didn’t add that keeping an eye on him was also high on her priority list.

 “Ma, VW is a fine school and all but…”

“But what, Simon? Isn’t it good enough for you? All your friends are going there.”

“I know that Ma but,” he looked out the window at a brilliant orange sunset, “I can do better. Besides, they don’t have the classes I want to study.”

“And what would that be?” she asked a bit condescendingly. Although she loved her son, Grace had never thought him to be the academic sort. As a high school teacher she had seen all kinds of boys and hers was not so very exceptional. She expected him to muddle through some college, quit and become a mechanic or work in the mill like his father.

“I want to be a physicist.”

“A what?” Her confusion and shock were evident in the way the question burst out of her mouth.

“I want to study physics ma, ya know, how the elements work together to become…stuff. We learned all about it last year in science class and Mr. Rappleye said I was a natural.”

“I know what a physicist is Simon. But isn’t that a little advanced? You need top grades at math and science. I am not sure that your stellar B- average is going to cut it.”

He glared at her. Mom had always supported him before. To knock him down now, just when he finally discovered what it was he wanted to do with his life.

“Ma, I already talked to Mr. Rappleye about that. He said if I worked extra hard, brought my grades up and took extra study with him, that he knew someone at the University of Virginia in their science department. He would put in a good word for me. They’re always looking for kids who have a gift for physics.”

Grace pondered on this unexpected change in her boy.  She could not deny that he was really good at science, despite what his grades said. Just last month he had won the county science fair with a fully functional body scanner. Granted, it exposed the subject to ten times the acceptable amount of radiation AND left nothing to the imagination, in color. But if Brad Rappleye thought he was good enough to make a personal recommendation, well, that was good enough for her.

Not to be deterred though, she offered a compromise, “How about you get the basic courses done at VW and then transfer to UVA? The advanced classes wouldn’t start until your junior year anyway.”

He couldn’t think of any counter arguments at the moment, so he agreed to consider what she said. College was still many months away.

They say time flies when you are having fun. For Simon, the last year of High School proved that axiom wrong. It was not very enjoyable and yet there never seemed enough hours in the day to get everything done. His new focus on school work meant very little time was available to think-up devilment. The classes were harder and required far more visits to the library. His old poster of the Washington Redskins cheerleaders (cleverly mounted underneath an ad for The Matrix) came down, replaced by the Periodic Table, Einstein and the standard formulae of physics.

His mother was speechless at how much effort he put into studies. It took six months but she finally accepted that he really wanted to become a scientist. After that she gave him perhaps the best present possible: “You don’t make any messes,” she said, “and I’ll take care of all the cleaning.” Simon beamed for a second and then ran into her arms for the kind of intense hug usually reserved for long absent loved-ones or five-year-olds. She knew he was preparing to become his own man but for the briefest instant she had her little boy back.

Very few things interrupted his routine now. Most of his friends lived in Roanoke anyway so loafing with them wasn’t possible. The girls in Vinton had all grown weary of his gags and showed no interest in Simon, despite his well-built frame and ever-present grin. With no distractions around he was able to make prodigious leaps forward. His grades climbed quickly to the astonishment of all the teachers. Indeed, the first couple months brought numerous accusations of cheating because no one believed him capable of such good work. The only person to fully support him was the man who had gone out on a limb for the boy.

Mr. Rappleye, the physics teacher, was good as his word. He arranged for Simon to take an extra elective class with him. They worked intensively on ever more advanced science and by the middle of his senior year they were discussing theoretical physics as equals rather than teacher and student. Simon’s knack for science was turning out to be a real gift at mental improvement in general. The more he learned the better he became at learning. Soon he was top of his class in most subjects and, to the great chagrin of the dean, became the first student voted “Most Likely to Succeed” and “Most Likely to Serve Time in Prison”.

You Don't Know Me

You Don't Know Me

"You don't know me", I heard the scream,

As her mother drown in tears,

In the eyes so died the dream,

O'er shadowed by confirmed fears.

A Wild Child did I see,

Spewing filth and hate,

Displayed herself on daytime TV,

Running headlong to her fate.

MY soul was wrenched with utter pain,

She's a woman but a girl,

Innocence gone and nothing gained,

Can't wait for life to unfurl.

She wants respect but gives out none,

Sad and lonely at the core,

Gives away her body just for fun,

Acting like a whore.

Can't she see the kind of man,

That would give meaning to her life,

Honor and respect the wedding band,

He'd never take HER to wife?

So a mother sits in despair pure,

"You don't know me".  But that's not true,

Through a sigh can hear the whisper,

"In my youth, I WAS you."

Brian K. Eddy

Apr 24, 2001

            It was one of those rear occasions when I watched an episode of Maury Povitch.  Daytime TV depresses me so. 

            A mother swallowed her pride and went before the entire world to beg someone's help with her daughter.  That girl was so disrespectful and filled with rage I was astounded.