Coy - Part Twenty-Eight - "Fly Fishing"

Coy

Part Twenty-Eight

"Fly Fishing"

            There being established for I a... thread... between the Savage estate and ...a cup and saucer, four goblets and a glass dish... in my cold barn... that I NOTICE that (1) “I” ‘not known of’ this thread before. (2) Is there (the thread is) because I... and only I... “know that” ‘now’.  (3) I could not prove a bit of it.  (4) I care.  (5) I don’t care.

            I don’t care if it is I who... breaks the thread?

            When I am....:  Well; FIRST:  Most people do not break threads (an actual string thread).  I, mostly, don’t break real threads either.  Most people, and I, do not encounter threads very often so that further evades the ‘breaking a thread’ taking place.  WHO... has a thread to break... often.

Well I do... and that is:  WHEN I AM... from above... in barns, sheds, on farmyard paths, stepping through doorways, barn door portals, barn attics, house attics, cellar stairs and before old windows; dirty, loose, cracked, silent... but illuminating... I encounter threads... I break.

            Spiders’

            Webs;

            They scurry off to the web’s dark edges as I... in varying method... break a... or many... OR ALL of the

            Web

            Treads.

            And move on about my mission.

            The next day... that broken thread(s) is back.

            And I break it again?

            And again.

            And again until I am eventually DONE with whatever ruckus I’s be at.

            So I’ve broken a lot of threads

            “Pretty often”.

            NOW I have before me a thread that I ...I... know of and cannot ‘show’ ‘anyone’.  Should I break it?  Should I ...do what?  TELL ME WHAT TO DO IF YOUR SO SMART.  I don’t... even have my DICE with me for YOU to draw (Part Twenty-Seven).

            Sorry.

            AND how about ...ignoring THAT thread and going back to look at the WEB where that thread ‘goes back to’?

            So I did nothing about the heart cut sweetmeat dish; I ‘left it’ ‘in the barn’ and ... a few weeks later... arrived ‘after it started’ at the historical society ‘Holiday Fair’.

            It was crowded with ...cackling women, their sordid and silent husbands AND... their DOGS.  That’s right; their doggies on leashes in ... mostly homemade craft-by-I ...holiday outfits (costumes?).  “YIKES” if one is ‘straight at that’ but I ‘skirted’ directly to the bric-brac table.

            And purchased a... and an a... and an “Oh this TOO”.  Then I stopped grabbing and... surveyed each and every object on the six by three foot table top very, very slowly looking to see if ...and then IF... and then... looked up at the committee woman sales’ table manager and.

            Looked back over the whole table top covered with... neat little pen marked white price stickers on neatly arranged JUNK... with no further ‘antique’ that I could ‘see’.  So I picked up this ...acid orange... ‘plastic’ oval orb shaped ‘S’ divided 1950’s anticipating the 1960’s ...snack bowl... and “I’d like to add this too please”.  It was ‘stickered’ a dollar.

            The candlestick was ...five dollars.

            Then the... take the pick from ALL the objects made of glass found in a nineteenth century New England / Maine sea captain’s Victorian era estate’s dining room... for three dollars.

            And... another “Glassware’’ she ...wrote down on a yellow legal pad... for ...one dollar.

            And another “Glassware”.

            And another.  Both for one dollar.  Too.

            The human noise din... and interactive ...nasty... doggie barking (yapping?) kept pace with the crowd who... did not visit I at the bric-brac table so the committee sales woman says to me over the din “THERE IS ANOTHER BOX OF THAT OLDER THINGS BY THE BACK DOOR OF THE KITCHEN IF YOU WANT TO LOOK THERE.  IT’S ALL PRICED.”

            “Thank you” and I was ‘going there’.  IT’S WHERE THE HOLE IN THE SAVAGE ESTATE FLOOR COMES OUT.  And there were, in fact, (THE) TWO boxes of ‘older things’.

            Noting great but I ah...

            TWO ‘Buckle pattern’ EAPG (early American pressed glass) goblets ‘very dirty’.  A dirty Buckle butter dish lid... ‘only’.  A Buckle sugar bowl with NO LID (‘missing; presumed broken’.  The same for the butter dish bottom).  “THAT’S NICE.”... I said to myself.  I added a sawtooth pattern ...open table salt... a ‘bold presence’ loop pattern ‘celery’... and an “Oxford” pattern brown transferware ‘gravy’, a matching small platter or under tray and a sawtooth pattern footed... we’ll get to it.

            My arms were full.  I retreated to the sales stable with my ‘clutch’.  No one cared.  I gave the two boxes one final scan before I... cut the thread.  Obviously ALL the ‘stuff’ was from Helen’s dining room... a bottom of one cupboard?  “HERE:  WE’LL PUT ALL YOUR PURCHASES in THIS BOX” the committee woman said as she raised a cardboard box from behind the table, put it on her chair seat, put the ‘glassware’, et al, into the box packing newspaper around each item, set the acid orange ‘snack bowl’ on top of the box ...‘up side down’...  and:

            “YOUR BUYING MY MOTHER’S BOWL.” came Janet-of-the-silver-fork’s (Part Sixteen [A-C]) voice to my back as SHE arrived at the table.

            “BOWL?” said the committee woman.

             “THAT WAS MY MOTHERS SHE USED IT ALL THE TIME.” said Janet looking up from the bowl at... me.

            “Your grandmother’s bowl” I said.

            “No.  It was my mother’s.  She always used it.”

            “I think it was your grandmother’s.” I said.

            Janet looked at me hard.

            “It depends on how old you want to be.” I said.

            Pause.

            “HOW OLD IS that bowl?” She said.  “It’s PLASTIC”.

            “1953.  Early plastic”.

            Pause.

            “Your right.  I think she did get it from her mother; my GRANDMOTHER”. YOU... bought that?  WHY?

            “Bad taste”.

            “What?”

            “I have it”.

            “No... WHY?  It is valuable?”

            “No.  Good design though.  Classic”

            “Designed good?  She always used it.”

            “No... Art.”

            “Its art?”

            “Now that I own it.”

            “It’s an OLD plastic dish.  AN ORANGE dish.  I hate it”

            “Thank you.”

            “What else did you buy?”

            “The old glassware” said the committee woman.”

            “That too.” I said pointing to a ‘glassware’ that had ‘missed’ being put in the box.’  It was the EAPG sawtooth patterned...

            “What IS that?” said Janet.

            “It’s a SPOON CADDY,” said the committee woman.

            “Spill.” I said

            “Spill?” said Janet turning her head to look out into the room where she saw me looking and... she presumed I was referring to.

            “Get a paper towel.” I said.

            “Who spilled?” Janet said.

            “One of those dogs” I said

            “Oh no,” said Janet and ...headed off.

            “It IS smaller so your PROBABLY RIGHT it IS A SPILL.” said the committee woman

            “I’m sure it is.  It’s too small to hold many spoons.”

            Spills... are little cigarette sized and shaped rolls of old scrap paper or whittler’s whittled wood match like sticks prepared in the Victorian era and put in pressed glass ‘spills’ to be used to light kerosene lamps, et al.  Lighted on the flame at one lamp they were carried to light the other lamps... or the stove... or fireplace.  In ‘olden times’ spills were stored in ‘spill holders’.  Today a spill is sopped up by a paper towel.  Ask Janet who... evidently... DID find a ‘spill’.

            At this moment... in the room of the Holiday Fair... I had the pleasure of Mr. (Dump) ...joining us; the committee woman and I.  He picked up the orange snack bowl that was... NOW... up side down on top of the box of glassware THAT I WAS HOLDING... with both arms... in front of me...  He turned it over, looked upon its bowl, reversed it and set it back down.  I... nodded to his upward peering face.  He nodded back and said “Happy Holidays” while letting his eyes drop back upon the ...orange snack bowl.

            “Beguiles me watching you at work.” said Mr. (Dump).  “You ARE working... THAT is your WORK.” He continued.

            “I can interest you?  For your collections?  That?” I said nodding downward with my chin toward the snack bowl.  “A wonderful (art) statement.  Catches everyone’s eyes since the moment I ...acquired it.  From a well regarded local estate.  I’ve verified.”

            “What is it?”

            “Spaulding Wear.  Chicago.”

            “Oh.  Of course.”

            “You garner?”

            “Oh no... but I know the name.”

            “Your mother used it?”

            Pause.

With a silent flash of Mr. (Dump’s) eyes that would have... cut my throat...  If it were not for the outbreak of hostilities between several costumed doggies... over by the Christmas tree... that with their snarling, snarling leashes, dragged and yanked leash holders, outbursts of womanly shouting commanding the doggies and... a flicker of panic to the whole room... I would have died from a slashed throat. 

Coy - Part Twenty-Seven - "Paddle and Portage"

Coy

Part Twenty-Seven

"Paddle and Portage"

            I did not have the slightest concern that the suggestion by the historical society collections curator (?) that they (including Mr. Dump I presumed) be granted access to ...what did he call it?  Oh yes... it was “TRY to GO IN” for “ORGANIZING... historical... archives”... by Helen’s Lawyer ‘would happen’.  They, including Mr. (Dump) would certainly contact Helen’s lawyer and HE would a “SAY SO TOO” (that this organizing historical archives)... particularly to establish dollar value figures... that could by viewed on as a color pie shaped graph on... well... personal finance on the home computer was still... ramping up back then (fourteen years ago).  Remember?  So the lawyer would have to contact Helen... I suppose.  Because he does not have a key himself... to ‘GO IN’... I presumed.

            I looked at my single dice; a small cube game dice, just one dice... that I have (I still HAVE it) in the bottom of my right pocket... of my Carhartt work suit (Part Eighteen [A])... that I was wearing right then... in MY...freezing old New England farm winter... barn... after the telephone call.  I had put it on so I could go out into MY cold barn ‘to find’ ‘that stuff’... ‘I bought’ from the historical society’s autumn fair’s bric-brac table.

            I looked at my dice... to ...confirm... that I ..did not have the slightest concern... nor NEED have the slightest concern ‘about this’ (the historical society’s GO IN).  The dice... in my right pocket and retrieved by my right hand... noting again that I am left handed (Part One and Two)... is consulted (‘run queries by’) by I “all the time” “during the winter”.  The rest of the seasons I don’t wear the suit so... don’t have the dice ‘at hand’ in my pocket like I do when I wear the work suit ‘all winter’.  Do I ‘miss’ my dice in the summer?  No; “it’s seasonal”.

            The dice shows, when retrieved, a number... between one and six.  One is low, six is high, three is in the middle while four and five are mediocre while two is dead mediocre...:  Is three best?  Or is one or six best?  One best?  Six worse?  Or six best and one worse.  Or...:  By that time the dice has been, by my right hand, put back in the right pocket and I have ‘moved along’.  That’s how I handle the number ‘I get’ on a ‘run queries by’.  I don’t really know WHAT ‘I get’ for my query but... I DO have a number FOR that query.  It’s sort of the same as what the lawyer wants:  He wants a (cash value) number for the room but doesn’t really care-to-need-to-know... WHAT the library room is and WHAT is in that room.  It’s amusing to me, continually, how my dice and dice query actually DO respond to ACTUAL real life circumstance OF a query even though I know that “your crazy” is the general retort to those who ‘see you (I) do that’ (check the dice)***.  This is where the right hand – left hand comes into play.  For a left hand... a right hand and its actions are... over there; on the right side.  Sort of like Old New England ‘pitched’ ‘up side down’... viewed from there; the left hand’s side:  The right hand... its ‘over there’... right side UP... ‘with the rest of all that; what ever all that is’.  It’s my left side that decides after letting the RIGHT SIDE ‘make the draw’.  Decides what?  It’s a ‘them versus me’ left handed view of the right hand?  WITH ‘a number’ everyone can actually see.  Works great for me... but... when it comes to antiques hunting in old New England estates... I’m crazy.

I am:

            “A crazy man”:

            “I need some help.”

            “I need a crazy man.”

            I wrote that at the end of Part Eight.

            Then I write four chapters (Parts Nine [A-D]) about ‘finding’ ‘my’ ‘crazy man’.

            And I find some sort of crazy man that, well done and well intentioned as that hunt was... NOW... ‘just like it always does’... ‘fails to show up’ when... ‘someone’ cuts a hole in the floor of an old New England estate and... things... start to fall into that hole.  Suddenly I’M in that hole TOO.

            And I’ve been there in those holes (that kind of hole) many times before.  And I like it.

            “Just getting interesting... this estate is... for me?”  So the dice said ...number three.... as I crossed our barn yard to my barn.  “Is that in the middle?”  Back in that February barn I had the dice and used it... too.  On Crap Pile... (Part Eighteen [A-E]).  He (Crap Pile)... consistently draws a four.  “What does that mean?  I don’t know but... I got a number...for him.  Right?

            With a three on the way to the barn I... pushed that onto my initial query of ‘did not have the slightest concern’ that the historical society would “GO IN”.  Number three on that sounds good to me.  Because.  I knew.  That there is NO WAY Helen’s gonna ‘do that’ and that... based on MY expertise of being with her AND the number three (in the middle?) ...that SHE

            WOULD

            DO

            NOTHING.

            At all...:  AT ALL.

            That’s what happened.

            Too.

            So I drew the dice again just inside the sliding barn door and drew “two” (“dead mediocre”).  SINCE I found the stuff I’d bought right away that draw couldn’t have covered that ‘easy find’.  THAT pushed the ‘two’ onto... the stuff?
            There was (is... I still have the stuff.  I think) a Victorian cup and saucer.  Four miss-matched “Honeycomb” pattern EAPG (Early American Pressed Glass) goblets (1860-1890) and... a glass (sweetmeat) ‘dish’.  I contemplated the dish.  I had, at purchase time, accurately and quickly identified the ‘sweetmeat dish’ as ‘probably English but possibly American ‘late’(1850’s) Anglo-Irish type cut glass... of heavy... lead glass “GREAT BASE WEAR” (from actual usage so there showing its age) and “having” attractive step cut corners to it’s Ashburton variant pattern that caused these corners to become cut hearts (heart shape) (nice touch).  Down the hatch for ‘two bucks’ without a ‘think’ it went.  Until now.

            I buy ....real antiques like this... off bric-brac tables for a buck or two apiece all the time right in front of and FROM ‘should know better’ so... it... is... a... NOTHING to do this.  That’s WHY I’m at the bric-brac table.  NOT AT THE PUNCH BOWL table.  Not at the ‘aprons’ table either.

            SO NOW... with number two in mind ...my mind is... “Would never know (EVEN THINK THAT) this... stuff... came from the Savage mansion.  “Huh”.  Couldn’t ever PROVE that.  THEY (the historical society three women committee ‘of the bric-brac table ...who know Janet-of-the-silver-fork... REAL well...) wouldn’t ‘have known that’ about ANY of the ‘two boxes of donations’ “WE GOT”... from, like, WHERE... in the estate?

            I asked.

            The committee woman ‘manning’ the ‘sales’... ‘table’

            Once.

            And she said...:  “FROM SOME CUPBOARDS IN THE DINING ROOM”.

            “Oh... of course... HOW STUPD OF ME... to forget that when... four (includes Helen) middle age women are in an old New England estate seeking ‘donations’ for an ‘autumn fair’ bric-brac table... the logical source of appropriate bric-brac IS in the “OLD” “STUFF” “STORED” in the BOTTOMS of the CUPBOARDS of the DINING ROOM that “I” “NEVER USE”.

            “Got it.”

            AND... I bet it took ALL FOUR WOMEN five times longer to fill TWO boxes than it would have taken me to fill TWO HUNDRED BOXES “look at all this junk in here’.

            Don’t WORRY, Helen... they’ll be back for more next summer. THEY SAW how much JUNK you have too.  Or is it ‘clutter’?

            Better ask Eileen.

            I was concise on my bric-brac seek, find and query:  I will be going to the historical society’s Holiday Fair and ...visiting the bric-brac table.  No worry there... those ladies are always very nice and glad to see me because I

            ACTUALLY BUY SOMETHING.

            “Hopefully” they will be selling more of the Savage Estate ...clutter (junk) “She donated it is SO NICE of HER”.

            Back to the dice.  Now that it has been... revealed as a tool... of a crazy man... don’t forget it.  I... once... while working... in the clean out in the winter of an old Maine barn... lost it (the dice).  I... I... I... lost it.  That’s it.  It was gone a week as I worked.  At least.  I got tired one afternoon so sat down in an old rocking chair for just a minute.  I was sitting there and... I see the dice... way... over and away from me on the floor... in the barn dirt.  I mean; THERE IT WAS.  I got up and fetched it; put it back in its pocket.  Still can’t believe the whole thing happened.  Showed some of the clean out crew.  “What’s its number?” one of them asked.

            One has to be there?

            One... cleans out old barns in the middle of the winter... one might query the dice too?

            But... one will never ‘be there’?

            “Haven’t seen you.”

            I’m a crazy man.

            I

            Never see anyone.

            In barns

            And ... in holes cut in the floors of old New England estates.

---

*** Oddly, those around me... in the estates... in the winter... working... after the initial “AH... YOU’S NUTS”... take to the query dice too and, too, want ‘to know the number’ I ‘just drew’ when they see me ‘do that’ (check the dice).  Its... “addicting” one of them told me.

Coy - Part Twenty-Six - "Canoe and Camera"

Coy

Part Twenty-Six

"Canoe and Camera"

            (Telephone):

            “As I said... I’ve been MEANING to CALL you.  But:  WELL... I’ve been WITH MY BOYS all FALL... HUNTING.  And now... WE’LL get THROUGH the HOLIDAY SOON ENOUGH and if the ICE IS THICK we’ll be OUT ON THE ICE. You ever DO that?”

            “Ice fish?  No.”

            “WELL MY BOYS:  They’ll ONLY be YOUNG THIS ONCE.  I bought us EACH snow machines.  And we take BOTH TRUCKS.”

            “That sounds like fun:  Nice.”

            “IT IS nice.  Special.  But I don’t get my JOB done.  If you know what I mean.”

            Pause.

            “THIS AH... well... the HELEN SAVAGE FAMILY; their PAPERS:  I spoke to you.  Remember?” continued the historical society collections curator (?, it might be ‘elected collections officer’).

            “Twice now...you have... I remember; about a box of letters then... right again this FALL at your Autumn Fair.” I said.

            “THAT... was a NICE fair; PERFECT weather.”

            “Pretty crowded it LOOKED”.

            “GOOD LOOK all around THAT DAY”.

            Pause.

            “SO... as I said THAT DAY... she’s FOUND a lot MORE of the FAMILY’S PAPERS.  AND she said she’s SHOWN them TO YOU.”

            “Well... the ROOM; her LIBRARY room:  She took me IN THERE.”

            “YES THAT ROOM... is quite a ROOM... I understand.”

            “You’ve been IN there?”

            “THERE?  Room; no.  BUT:  See:  I WILL BE... right ALONG I suppose.  LIKE I SAID... I’ve been WITH MY BOYS.”

            “Right”

            “So... that room is as FULL as she says it is?”

            “Full enough.”

            “Yes.... that’s what...WELL I GUESS SHE WOULD KNOW.”

            “Did you see the MIRROR SHROUD?”

            “SEE? No.  But she TOLD ME about THAT:  SEE HIS FACE.  Old One John Savage.”

            Pause and then the curator continued:

            “WE really NEED to TAKE PICTURES OF THAT DON’T WE.”

            “Pictures? Me? Ah... no.”

            “WELL not YOU.  BUT the SO-CIE-I-TY should you see.  RIGHT?”

            “Oh yeah, yeah.”

            “We got the... WELL... THAT MR. (Dump) SAYS he’s got one of them NEW (remind; this is fourteen years ago) CAMERAS that’s a COMPUTER CAMERA.  You seen those?  Pictures go RIGHT ON the COMPUTER.”

            “Yeah... I’ve seen ‘em.  Don’t use one.”

            “Well that’s fine I don’t EITHER but HE SAYS WITH ONE ...WE get the photographs PUT ON THE COMPUTER right straight THROUGH.  Slick as smelt he says.  And not ROUGH CUT either:  Finished.  So we’re gonna BUY one of those cameras and start DOING THAT.  You know; not JUST for there but for the SO-CIE-I-TY.”

            “Right.  You all haven’t SEEN the ROOM?”

            “Oh no not YET.  SHE SAID she’d SHOW US but... well THIS FALL JUST WENT.  Now she’s GONE.  For the winter.”

            “So no one’s been UP THERE?”

            “From US?”

            “Yeah; she told you.  About the room she SHOWED me.  But no one from the society’s BEEN UP THERE?”

            “OH WELL three COMMITTEE women WENT UP.”

            “Committee woman?”

            “For the Autumn FAIR.”

            “Oh.”

            “She give ’em TWO BOXES of DONATIONS.”

            “Two boxes of donations?”

            “For the SO-CIE-I-TY table.”

            “Fair table?”

            “The bric-brac table.”

            “To sell?”

            “Well SOME OF IT DID but the rest they SAVED for the HOLIDAY FAIR”.

            “Oh.”... was my only outside verbal utterance but this concealed a full internal SCREAM, meltdown, action review, memory film of that action review-review and a gasp as I... FLASHBACK YEAH THEY DID ALWAYS DO HAVE a ...bric-brac 6 by 3 foot folding table... off in the beside the doorway corner... with CRUD on it... for sale that I ...always look at (“NOT ONLY ALWAYS” but ...IS... THE.... REASON... ‘I go there’). (?).  And I did ‘buy some stuff’ ‘off of it’ yeah STUPID Victorian glass and china bric-brac “WHAT?”.... from the SAVAGE ESTATE IT IS THE RIGHT AGE FOR THAT RIGHT STUFF I DID BUY a cup and saucer and some honeycomb (pattern) goblets and a ...DISH.

            “THAT IS A SWEET MEAT DISH!”

            “I still got that stuff”.

            “It’s in the barn”.

            “THAT DISH

            IS FROM THE SAVAGE ESTATE!”

            Gasp.

            Meltdown.

            I missed what he was saying.

            I mean:  I THINK I missed something I THINK he was saying

            Because he was rambling along about

            “Mr. (Dump) has been very helpful with that and I...

            “HELPFUL with WHAT did you say”

            “Well he does SPECIALIZE in those KINDS OF old papers so HE WILL be helping US to look at them”.

            “Look at them?  Mr. (Dump)?”

            “He IS right around here you know.”

            “Yes I am getting to know that.”

            “We’re going to TRY to GO IN this WINTER once we ARRANGE that with Mrs. (Helen Savage) Roth’s attorney.  Mr. (Dump) is speaking to HIM just along NOW about the DETAILS of what we’d like to DO in there. I SPOKE with him (the lawyer) but I am not familiar with the NEWER processes of ORGANIZING... historical... archives.  The photography and all.  YOU know about our SCANNING COMMITTEE.  THAT is going along VERY WELL.  Easy as MY MOTHER’S PIE once they’re ON that computer.  I didn’t know... in fact I don’t think ANYONE had ANY IDEA how MUCH the so-CIE-I-ty actually HAS for HISTORIC DOCUMENTS.  THAT’S JUST documents.  NO LETTERS or the DAIRIES yet.  A DAIRY takes a LOT to SCAN.  We have volunteer STUDENTS coming in from the HIGH SCHOOL to HELP Mr. (Dump) and some of them are QUITE GOOD at it:  REAL COMPUTER WIZ-KIDS.”

            The curator (?) continued but a net summary had already been issued from my innards:  Someone(s) has/have cut a BIG HOLE in the floor of the Savage mansion and ‘stuff’ was already FALLING IN THAT HOLE.  Soon someone(s) will come out of the hole and SHOVEL STUFF IN TO IT?  The conversation continued with direct probe of my ‘interest’ ‘in her family papers’:

            “...being of INTEREST TOO YOU?”

            “I really have not LOOKED at very MUCH.  I will say that I am coming to BELIEVE that the local history content... aside from the actual FAMILY history... may prove to be the STONG FEATURE of the archive.”

            “Does that interest you?”

            “I believe... I would probably DEFER my interest to YOUR INTEREST if that proves to be the case.  I HAVE NOT inspected the archive yet.  It is undisturbed right now.  As I saw it.  If someone goes in that room... they should be kept on a leash.  I didn’t touch anything.  Or move anything.”

            “How are we going to look at it without doing that.” he said

            “Under very STRICT supervision”.

            “Why?”

            “Because... if no one knows what’s in that room then no one can know if something is missing from that room.” 

            That observation from I to THE UNIVERSE was... not noted.

            (This same observation applies to the scanning of the historical society’s ...archive... by... Mr. [Dump] who is... left alone with the... high school students; a fox with the chickens... to do that).

The conversation then ‘wound out’ as a perfunctory declaration from the curator:

“I won’t be the ONE FOR THAT (doing the inventory of the archive in the Savage library room). ......  I’m buying EACH of them (his sons) CANOES for Christmas.  One for myself TOO”.

“That’s a nice gift:  Paddle and portage when spring comes.”

            “Yes Sir.  Looking forward to THOSE days”.

            “Santa’s MasterCard doing that?”

            “Oh no.  I’ve been selling some of my own collection (of ‘old paper’- rare books, Maine history, etc.).

            “Really?

            “Yes.  That Mr. (Dump) has shown a lot of interest in it.  I never thought anyone cared but he’s been selling it on that INTERNET for me.  They have AUCTIONS on that (the internet) now.”

Coy - Part Twenty-Four - "Serving and Waiting"

Coy

Part Twenty-Four

"Serving and Waiting"

            “Pitched”... out... came next:

            “I will be going to lunch.

            Shortly.”

            Said Helen.

            I was outside the Savage mansion ‘leaving’... ‘before I knew it’.

            Actually... I knew it.  I’d ...made... a verbal construction... in the library room that endeavored to quickly make a verbal summary of “WHAT, WHERE do WE,  NEXT” and “I need three hours” working in here to “see” “well enough” to... “WHAT” “IS” “THIS” (room full of that makes it... worth a fortune.).  THAT; the three hours ‘I need’ was a radical cut from my ‘gut’ “I NEED THREE DAYS OF THREE HOURS EACH”... ‘in here’.  I figured, correctly, ‘that wouldn’t float’.  The ‘just’ ‘three hours’ didn’t float either.

            “NOT TODAY” said Helen.

            “Ah.” I said.

            “I will be going to lunch.

            Shortly.”

            Said Helen.

            I knew... from outside the Savage mansion... I was... ‘coming back’... but that I would not be... coming back

            For a while.

            Helen didn’t care.

            She was the enemy.

            The library room... interfered with her lunch.  It interfered with her life.  I wasn’t the problem.  From her vantage I had just ...given her all she wanted to know.  Included in my verbal construction was a faint effort to suggest the actual scale of examination that room NEEDED to have it... confirm my ‘gut’ that ‘it’ (that room) was the fully intact Savage family archive ‘untouched’ and... having further ‘old paper’ additions scattered throughout the estate... that COULD EASILY be ‘brought together’ ‘too’... ‘in it’ (the library room).  But:  I was outside the mansion walking to the truck having already declared by bow and arrow inside the library that ...I was now... ‘going to Hell’, ‘falling back and fading way’, ‘beyond’, ‘on my own’ and ... A JANITOR.

            A servant.

            A waiter.

            What I was doing right then (walking to my truck) was ...what I am hired to do.  I was serving and... waiting.

            Fifteen years ago I went to meet with Helen in her family’s mansion twice.  A year after that... making that fourteen years ago... I went there again and this time was shown the library.  Then I left.  I did not hear from Helen for another year.

            I did hear... in varying ...and various... ways... from ‘everyone else’.  This ‘hearing from’ brings me back to chapters seven and eight.  I have now established a timeline of occurrence with the Savage estate... that was that day fourteen years ago... still ‘dawning on me’.  The timeline is ‘one year’ ‘between’ ANYTHING... and that includes the ‘everyone else’ who... always seem ‘ok’ ‘with that’; that this is ‘normal’.

            The first four ‘everyone else’ are Helen’s lawyer, Helen’s bank, the local historical society that Helen contacted and... Helen.  Chapter Seven and Eight present them.  At the end of Chapter eight I suspect that Helen IS the enemy.  Too.  I just don’t... fifteen now fourteen years ago... ‘totally believe it’ ‘then’.  I leave, for the optimistic benefit of myself, Helen dormant and neutral as much as possible.

After I’m pitched, I review and confirm that the lawyer and the bank are ‘status unchanged’ meaning that they are exactly as I recorded them the year before in chapters seven and eight.  As their future role and actions are upon this foundation, I recommend reviewing their ‘status unchanged’. 

Then... I... acknowledged... the historical society is ‘out there somewhere’ so I am ...NOT SURPRISED... when I ‘out of a blue’ hear from them again ‘right along’.

I add Mr. Dump and Crap Pile to the ‘everyone else’.  They are always ‘parked within easy walking distance’ and are, in fact, the most eagle eyed of all ‘everyone else’.  I also included Janet-of-the-silver-fork.  It is always worthy... to notice the... to-have-a... babbling busybody entourage... when one is involved in having an old New England estate ...rummaged, ransacked, looted, carried off and ‘restored’.  They bring ...as a blanket (quilt) of... sense ... a... New England right side up... CLARITY to “the actions we’ve taken”... such as running yard sales, baking cookies and ‘hosting’ ‘gatherings’, ‘events’ and... are active as a ‘catch all’ of my FELLOW... ‘serving and waiting’.

            I sent my bill for my third visit to the bank and was paid.  That was it.  As portrayed in the earlier chapters... unless it is on their (“the right”) desk and a sliver on a computer generated color pie shaped graph... it is ‘forgotten’ or ‘not known about’

            I had no contact with the lawyer.  He was very clear about his position and interests in our first chats; “trophy buck” ‘keep me informed’.

            “Go to Hell”.  He never has to... because ...he was already there.

            It is the historical society that jumps (like checker game jumping) the action of ... pitching... the Savage estate.  Helen tells them about the library room and my visit there... before... she leaves for Florida.

            The historical society does nothing about that until AFTER Helen leaves.  Then, with her gone for the winter... the collections director calls me.  I need to remind that these fine folks and their society were not on my ‘I know’ list until AFTER Helen showed them a box of letters... AFTER my ‘first visit’ and... SINCE THEN I have had ‘more’... to do... with them... thanks to the new ‘every ones’ of Mr. Dump, Crap Pile and Janet.  It is imperative to notice that it is NOT just me that has... more to do (with the new every ones)... but that the SAVAGE ESTATE... has ...an exact same ratio... of ‘more to do with them’.  TOO.  And... it is imperative to notice that IF the bank and lawyer are ‘status unchanged’ AND... there is ‘action taken’ about and within the Savage estate... that it is THESE PEOPLE (the new every ones)... who are... with I going back to the white SUV icon... “she’s driving”.  Yeah that’s right; I said this isn’t going to be pretty.  One group is looking at cash accounts on a computer screen... the OTHER group wants to ‘scan every piece of old paper’ in the estate... so it can be seen on a computer screen... they say... with a mouth full of cookie.  And... I ‘was there for that’ (Part [20]).  And... they have not gotten there yet but will very soon... to... ‘the objects’ “in the Savage estate”:

            “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT ALL THE CLUTTER?”

            “HELEN?”

            This time it is not an appraiser dressed like Eileen Fisher who says that.

            It is the historical society, et al.

            I remind that Helen said “It really would be a VERY NICE ROOM once I CLEAN IT OUT.” (Part Twenty-Three [B]).

            Is everyone getting on the same hay wagon... for a real old time New England Hay ride?

            It can’t be a sleigh ride... because Helen’s in Florida all winter.  Hay rides are in the fall... just before Helen leaves ‘every year’.

            Hay ride:  Scratchy, congested, disorganized, babbling, squealing, burrowing hay ride with ...an old, crocked, silent, bent, skeletal form of a grim riper of a man ‘forever onward’ ‘driving’ the hay wagon of the... Savage estate?

            Can I get on?  Too?

            Do I want to?

            Do I dare?

            ....

            Do... I... CARE? (Part Sixteen [B] at the end)

            Doing nothing IS an active dynamic of a choice.

            Doing nothing is what Helen does all the time.  It is a ‘her answer’.

            Could that be MY answer too?

            It did not take long to test my....

            WHAT?