Jackson Coppley's Blog, page 20

MUSTANG - Episode 7 - Introducing Carol

Her hands were her best quality, no doubt about it. Everyone always said so. Ever since high school, everyone liked Carol’s hands. Long and well tapered, with small knuckles. Carol now forty, turned her hands into the light from the bathroom window, thinking how the years have been so kind to her hands.“You should be a hand model,” said Maureen, her best friend in high school. She still remembered that class picnic when she said it as they sat on a blanket under a large oak near a stream. “There’s no such thing,” said Molly. “Yes, there is,” shot back Maureen. “Whose hands do you think wears those diamond rings in the magazines?”“Uh, huh,” agreed Dorothy. “I heard those models make gobs of money.”“That’s right,” said Maureen. “There are lots of pretty faces to be had, but pretty hands,” she paused for dramatic effect, “that’s something else.”Carol thought Maureen was a great friend. She found something in an otherwise skinny, gangly girl with freckles to make her feel good about herself.Carol had a tough time growing up. After her mother and father died in a car accident when Carol was only twelve, it was just her and her sister Cindy. Cindy was fifteen years older. She had a brother Paul who was just six years older, but when her parents died, Paul was already in the Air Force. After the funeral, she seldom saw Paul --. just Christmas cards and a postcard now and then.  Cindy and Carol moved all the time and it was hard keeping in touch with them. Growing up, it was hard to make and keep friends; Carol was lonely.Watch for new episodes in MUSTANG.Click Here to Start at the beginningSubscribe below to receive a weekly notice of postings.You can influence the direction of this story!Drop me a message inContactwith suggestions.

Girls and Books

Have you noticed that books have keyword trends? Now it appears to be the word 'girl.' There isGone Girland theGirl on the Train. But, my favorite isThe Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. If you haven't read it, do so now. Warning: You'll want to read all three books in this 'girl' triolgy.

Genoa

Renaissance palaces from the peak of power of a small republic, now museums of that age and office buildings for banks, the power elite of the this age.Modern museums for diversion of the middle class.Gritty port city with women occupying the shadows of doorways in dark narrow streets.Castelletto, the modern setting for neo-renaissance high rise apartment buildings overlooking the city and the sea.From our roof-top patio, we breath in the cool sea air, drink in the sites around us, and absorb the history this port has played. The sun sets and cast shadows on the pastels of the apartment buildings around us and le rondini, the black sparrows of this area, dart across the sky. It is a moment of inspiration.

New Mexico

Ellen said it when the plane approached Albuquerque, "It seems like another country." The land is foreign to Easterners like us where the sky is expansive and the horizon exists all around you in all directions, where trees grow squat and grass is brown in clumps, not green and lush. The dry air conspires with the sun to mock the thermometer reading. Forty degrees on a cloudless morning is toasty. Shadows are deeper and they silhouette objects in sharp relief.  Another country? This seems another planet.The remoteness makes it an easy place to hide things (Los Alamos is the home of the atomic bomb). Yet things are made for everyone to see (it is the home of major movie productions). Artists make art and scientists make computer chips, all here in New Mexico.Natural beauty is viewed as far as the eye can see, with big sky all around and it is hidden beneath the earth in caverns.It is no wonder that visual artists unleash their talent here.

MUSTANG - Episode 6 - Rob is Off

Rob slowly walked up to the car. The top was down and neatly tucked into the tonneau cover. The interior was black, just like the one he had years earlier. OK. Forget the thing about having anything black in this heat. Rob was in love. The car looked like the Ford factory had just preened one off the assembly line and taken it to the show. The only non-standard feature was the Hurst shifter in between the seats with its high gloss maple shifter knob.“Get in,” encouraged Cecil Junior, seeing that Rob’s sense of awe had him frozen in reverent inaction. He opened the driver’s door and motioned Rob in with his hand. Rob slid into the seat and placed his hand on the wheel.“Nice,” is all Rob could muster.“I think it is time you two got to know each other,” said Cecil Senior, dangling the keys for Rob to take.As Rob took the keys, the large hanger doors began to part, driven by unseen motors. As they opened, Rob could see a paved circular track waiting for a test drive. Rob inserted the key into the ignition. It felt good to place keys in the dashboard where they belonged rather than a keyless fob. He looked up at the Cecils, smiled, and turned the key. The engine took just one turn and fired. With a deep throaty roar, the car had come alive, promising all the power that Rob could want.Rob pressed the clutch and slipped the shifter into first. Letting out the clutch to get its feel, he did not need practice. The car shifted like velvet, slowly into first, and began to glide toward the track. Rob stroked the shifter knob gently as the car approached the track. He wanted to take it easy, get a feel for the car, and understand how it would respond. He shifted into second as he reached the track, pushing gently on the accelerator; he reached about thirty before shifting into third. He read the RPMs on the tac and kept them low. There would be time for more soon. Shifting into top gear, he did a couple of loops around the track going no more than fifty. The motor purred. He came back to where the Cecils were now standing.He stopped in front of the Cecils and looked at them with a broad smile. Rob uttered his monosyllable of the day: “Nice.”Rob then turned the corner of the track, looked down the straightaway, and punched the pedal to the floor. The rear wheels squealed only slightly as the engine roared, pushing Rob deep back into the seat. He was doing sixty in a flash. Downshifting around the flat curves of the track, Rob picked up the pace on the backside and topped one-twenty just as he reached the next curves near where he started. He braked and downshifted. The brakes caught the car firmly and evenly. With small squeals from the tires, Rob stopped in front of the Cecils.“Looks like you are going to do alright,” said Cecil Junior.Cecil Senior produced an envelope as Rob step out of the car. Handing Rob the envelope, he said, “Well, here’s the title, bill of sale, inspection stuff and all the other paperwork you need. The permanent tags are on the car. It’s all yours.”“Thanks,” said Rob, taking the envelope.“Now, you have our card in there with our telephone number,” said Cecil Senior. “We have your cell number. We’ll stay in touch. We like to check in as you get used to the car. It’s a new experience and we want to make sure you two adjust to each other.”“That’s great,” said Rob. The Cecils surely added a human element to the car. Rob guessed he did, too. “Guess I’ll be going. Which way out?”“Just follow this road dead ahead for a couple of miles,” directed Cecil Junior. “Take a right on the main road, and you will soon hit the Interstate. Head north to Sedona.”“Thanks, again. I really like the car,” said Rob.“You be good to her and she’ll be good to you,” said Cecil Senior.Rob dropped the car into gear, the motor purred, and he was off.Watch for new episodes in MUSTANG.Click Here to Start at the beginningSubscribe below to receive a weekly notice of postings.You can influence the direction of this story!Drop me a message inContactwith suggestions.

MUSTANG - Episode 5 - Where are we?

The SUV took off. There was no conversation, but there was music. Cecil Junior punched the CD player and some country balladeer crooned. Rob had never heard this guy who was singing, or the song. Not much of a mystery why since Rob did not listen to country music. However, he did respect what he had heard. He always thought it was adult music. Rock is for kids. It always talks about young love. Country is about cheating, divorce, death and taxes.The singer was singing about one such theme. It was about a man searching for love after having lost it. He was singing about how he had loved his woman and the love “drifted in the wind” until it was gone. Rob thought the guy could have been singing about him. The next song, by the same artist, was about his little girl who was “daddy’s girl” who grew up and no longer needed daddy. So what did daddy mean to her? Hmm, thought Rob. This is quite a coincidence. As another song began about a man’s lonely quest to find himself, the SUV stopped.“We’re here,” said Cecil Senior as the Cecils opened their doors.Rob opened his and the sun momentarily blinded him after being in the darkness of the SUV. He put on his shades and stepped out of the vehicle. He stood and looked around. They were clearly far from Phoenix and in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing but sand and sagebrush as far as he could see except for where a range of tall red hills stood. Rob reasoned that the city must be on the other side of that range. They hadn’t driven that long and were it not for these hills, he probably would have a city view.On the desolate plain there was a large aircraft hanger with no runway.  This must be the garage, Rob thought. The Cecils walked towards the hanger and Rob followed. They entered through a small side door.They entered a small office.  There was no one else in the office, but he could hear pneumatic tools and other body shop noises coming from next door. Typical of a body shop office, there was an old desk piled high with papers and forms. An ancient computer stood beside the desk and an old sofa lined one wall. Cecil Senior went to the desk and pulled out a set of keys from the draw.“Over this way,” said Cecil Senior as he led Rob to a door as Cecil Junior followed behind. Cecil Senior fiddled with the keys, found the right one and inserted it into the lock. He led the way into the next room.The room was pristine in contrast to the office and to what Rob expected. The floor was a sparking grey with a slick finish. No oil had touched it. Cecil Senior turned on the lights. The high intensity lights flashed on with a heavy thud as the relays kicked in. The room was brightly illuminated like a convention center car show. Except that, in this room, there was only one object. It was the Mustang.There stood the car, bright red and glistening under the lights. It was immaculate. The finish was buffed to a high gloss. Rob knew he could see the cracks in his teeth should he smile into the finish. It has the premium wire wheels offered when the car was new. The tires were jet black and slick. Rob stood in admiration. The Cecils smiled at the look of awe Rob expressed.Watch for new episodes in MUSTANG.Click Here to Start at the beginningSubscribe below to receive a weekly notice of postings.You can influence the direction of this story!Drop me a message inContactwith suggestions.

Rome

Travel inspires the writer. I'm sharing passages from my notebook written while on the road. The first is from my most recent trip to Rome.Ancient Romans left a mark so deep, they defied the ages to erase it. Thick city walls of brick remain impenetrable. The Latin Romans still make their presence known to today's Italian Romans. Once the most populous city in the western world, it returned to its life as a small rural town while power and culture shifted to great cities of the peninsula like Florence and Milan.But The Church was the power not to abandon Rome. The Vatican stood watch over the banks of the Tiber since Christianity was young. The Renaissance made it the masterpiece it is today.When Italy became a country of its own and not a series of principalities changing ownership from one European ruler to the next, Rome was made the capital and the restoration of greatness began with new styles that, at first glance, one now recognizes as Italian.Our apartment is in Trastevere near the river, the old cobblestone streets filled with restaurants and bars, a hot spot for Romans. The windows are open as I write and I enjoy the cool spring air and the lively noise of the pedestrians and scooters below.

Santa Fe Book Reading

I'm holding a book reading in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Sunday, November 6, starting at 2 PM at Op Cit Book Store at at DeVargas Mall, 157 Paseo de Peralta. I will be reading from Leaving Lisa and signing copies. I invite all in the area to stop by.Click here to visit the Op Cit Web Site

Fates and Furies

Fates and Furiesis, first of all, a good read. Lauren Groff is a brilliant wordsmith, lending poetic phases to her stories. They could be about the simplest things and entertain you. So it is with this novel, except there is a twist, it is two stories. The first story (Fates) is about Lott, a lovable guy, smart, but always out of place among peers. Acting is where he feels comfortable, but acting is not comfortable with him. He’s just too thin and too tall. But creating the words for actors is where he finds his footing and becomes a successful playwright. His life with his wife Mathilde and the few friends of theirs is the basis of the book. There are not many characters to track.It is the second story (Furies) fills in the blanks about Mathilde. It is her story and there are many blanks to fill in although the reader of Fates would never suspect it.There are a few sections that seem unneeded. One about Lotto and a young man at a writer’s colony could be dropped with no impact on the story. The author bio notes that Groff attended a writer’s colony and one wonders if that compelled her to write about one, needless as it might have been to the story.I recommend if you want fine words to entertain you for a while.

Young Girl in Jumpsuit

I filed this entry under Writing, but I could easily have filed in under Travel. We visited Vietnam a few years ago. It provided background for a part ofLeaving Lisathat took place there, but there was far more in the country not used for that story. One was our visit to a Catholic church. We were killing time, on the way back from Ha Long Bay, and our guide suggested we see the Church. The building was fascinating with the Asia treatment of at Catholic theme.But far more interesting was what the nuns operated there. It was a home for unmarried mothers. There were just a few girls. Girls were what they were, so young to be mothers. They had their babies with them. We were smitten and wanted to take one girl and her baby home with us. It was a pipe dream, but Ellen and I still think about it.I wrote the following poem about one of the young mothers:Young Asian girl in your Baby Girl jumpsuit,So bright eyed and eager,So young and innocent,Touched by hurt yesterday,So unprepared for the hurt ahead.Was it your brown eyes, with one slightly glancing awayThat drew him to you?What is that flaw that made you love him for loving you?He went away.He did not know. Work ended. Where he is, you do not know.He left you with a part of him,That now wriggles and coos in the hammock beside you.You found your way here,Where the nun took you in.Girls like you, nurse their little ones beside them,Their new little ones, the only family they have,Serene and safe in the basement rooms beneath the church.The future waits for another day.Today you are warm and safe.You are happy and smile the smile of young innocence.Take care young Asian girl in your Baby Girl jumpsuit.Take care.Comments? Please click here and share them.