Chapter 1

Photograph by Kevin Walsh.

... to live a full life...

How to measure a full life? Is it the number of days that the body has walked upon the planet? If one day is the same as the next, should they not be counted as one day of life, rather than two? If one year is the same as the previous year, should they not be counted as one year?

When a man lies dying, his whole life flashes before his eyes. It’s not the day to day life that is replayed, but only the moments that are different. The tears that run down the face of a dying man is not from the loss of life. It’s the sadness that comes from the realization that after eighty years of walking around on this planet that he had only lived a hundred days. There is the regret that twenty nine thousand days were not lived. Twenty nine thousand days wasted pursuing the mundane rather than the passion!

The elderly look back to their days as children with fondness. Those were the days when each day was an adventure. There was growth, there was change, and life was vibrant. Later in life, adults live through the lives of their children, tasting of it second hand. In old age, life becomes filled with the aches and pains of a body slowly losing vitality. The days that are lived become trips to hospitals, funerals of old friends, and the entry into a nursing home.

The childlike behavior of the elderly can be viewed as an attempt to reach back into the well of wonder and newness that defined living for a child when all things were possible. The adult behavior exhibited by those from their mid-twenties to late fifties can be viewed as a quelling of life’s experiences. Adults don’t run or play with little toy cars or leave work to have an adventure. Adults perform their adult responsibilities, responsibilities that are entirely artificial. Adults may dream, but to pursue those dreams is irresponsible. The growth of assets is achieved at the expense of living.

The furniture that was new when they were twenty becomes out of style when they are forty. The furniture bought at forty becomes out of style at sixty. The old dusty houses of the elderly are not a comment on not caring about their environment, but recognition that changing the furniture is not living a life.

Many of the elderly give up, realizing that they have lost their chance to live. Fragile bones preclude skiing down a steep slope. Erections are difficult to achieve, and the potential for orgies is greatly diminished. Sitting on their front porch, they watch as the world passes by, becoming embittered that they are not part of it. The episodes of anger - when disturbed by children that run and scream, making the noises of joy - is not anger at the children, but anger at the fact that they themselves can’t run and scream. The days of joy have passed for them.

Twenty nine thousand days, wasted when they could have been lived.

Awake, Ed sat at the table eating his breakfast watching Marguerite. He asked, “What’s going on?”

“I know nothing,” she replied smugly.

Her words rang true, she knew nothing about what was going on. He asked, “So where is everyone?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a wry smile knowing this was driving him crazy.

The entire household had disappeared right after breakfast, leaving him sitting alone at the table. They had taken advantage of the fact that he was slow to awaken first thing in the morning, to leave before he realized that something was going on with them. Looking at Marguerite, he said, “Let me guess. They are planning something, but left you out of the plans so that you wouldn’t be able to leak the secret.”

“That’s right, Buddy,” replied Marguerite enjoying the moment tremendously. Her role in the plan was to be the secret keeper. With Ed, that meant she had to know nothing about what was happening.

“Where’s Beth?” asked Ed feeling that he could at least spend the morning with the baby.

“Kelly took Beth with her when she went out,” replied Marguerite. The reason wasn’t that they were afraid that Ed would find anything from the six month old little girl, but that Kelly wanted her close so that she could feed her.

“Cathy?”

“Out.”

“Who do I ask about my schedule today?”

“As far as Cathy would let me know, you have nothing scheduled today,” replied Marguerite with a smile.

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes, she told me that you had nothing scheduled today.”

“So I guess that means I could go out into the desert for the day.”

Marguerite’s smile faltered as she replied, “Ah, I don’t think that is in the plan.”

Ed smiled at her discomfort and said, “Maybe I should call someone and find out if I can do that.”

Frowning, Marguerite said, “That would spoil things.”

“Oh, so there is something to spoil.”

Frustrated, Marguerite said, “You are horrible. How is anyone supposed to surprise you, if you can question them to the point of discovering everything?”

Thoughtfully, Ed said, “I don’t even know why they would want to surprise me about anything.”

“You don’t?” asked a very surprised Marguerite.

“No clue,” replied Ed. He hadn’t had a major accomplishment in the past few months that would warrant a celebration. He asked, “So you want to tell me what it’s all about?”

“No!”

“Okay, I’m going for a swim. At noon, I’m going to go to Shirley’s for a Coke,” said Ed. It was funny, but he actually felt lonely. Mornings were usually spent with Ling, rubbing body lotion onto her swelling belly. Then he would go to work at the University for several hours. After that he would swing by the IRS, the Fusion Foundation, or his investment company for an hour or two. Coming home, he would spend the late afternoon with Beth reading to her while she held his finger. His typical schedule for the end of the day included dinner with the family, sunset with the men, and the evening with one of the wives.

Marguerite smiled and replied, “That sounds like a good thing to do.”

With a sad long face, Ed asked, “Would you like to join me in the pool?”

“No. You may have a day off, but I have work to do.”

Ed walked back to the pool room, pausing for a moment to examine the new glass door that now blocked entrance to the pool room. The door, with nice frosted designs etched into the glass, had been installed as part of baby proofing their house. That had not been the only change, a number of plants had been removed from the atrium when it was discovered that they could be poisonous when eaten by young children.

Once inside the pool room, he undressed, placing his clothes in a neat pile on one of the chairs. Sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling in the water, he considered what kind of celebration his family could possibly be organizing. Deciding that he would never be able to figure it out, he slid into the pool and stretched out on his back. With slow kicks of his legs he traveled the length of the pool, stopping just before his head hit the edge. Turning around, he swam twenty-five vigorous laps using the breaststroke and ten laps using the Australian Crawl. Breathless, he stood in the pool to catch his breath for a minute before swimming at a slower pace to allow the muscles to relax properly.

Exiting the pool, he went over to the Jacuzzi and sat down to let the jets of hot water massage his body. With his head tilted back, he wondered what he could do for the rest of the morning. The bar was closed until lunchtime and Maria’s Restaurant wouldn’t open until evening. Climbing out of the hot tub, he dried off and dressed.

Swinging by the kitchen, he told Marguerite, “I’m going for a walk.”

She asked, “Where are you going?”

“I thought I’d head into town.”

Marguerite laughed and asked, “Would you like to try my lemonade?”

Ed hadn’t drunk any lemonade since returning from Bill’s house on the way back from Antarctica. He said, “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

After hearing all kinds of noises coming from the kitchen, Marguerite returned with a glass of lemonade complete with half a lemon slice floating in it. There was actual pulp and seeds in the glass. Taking a sip, he was surprised by how sweet it was. Looking up at Marguerite, he said, “This is the best lemonade that I’ve ever had. How did you make it?”

“The juice of two lemons in a shaker with lots of sugar and crushed ice. Shake it until your hands can’t hold the shaker anymore and pour it into a glass. Add half a lemon and serve immediately.”

“Wow, this is outstanding,” said Ed as he took another sip. It was cold and refreshing in a way that iced tea wasn’t.

“You guys drink too much iced tea. I’m trying to expand your repertoire of drinks.”

“Why?”

“You need a little vitamin C occasionally. You drink coffee and tea. At least the women drink smoothies.” For years she had put glasses of various juices out for breakfast only to have them totally ignored by the men. John had a tendency to eat and run, drinking only a single cup of coffee. Ed drank cup after cup of coffee struggling to wake up. Leroy drank a cup of coffee to wake and then drank a second one while talking to everyone else.

“I drink Cokes,” said Ed as though that meant something.

“Coke might as well be the same as tea. It has sugar and caffeine.” Marguerite was about to add that he wasn’t getting any younger and needed to take care of himself, but she bit the comment back. Deciding on a different tack, t, she said, “You want to set a good example for the kids, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” replied Ed shocked that she might even consider that he wouldn’t.

Marguerite said, “Well, that means drinking fruit juices with breakfast and milk with lunch and dinner.”

“Oh,” replied Ed. He hadn’t had a glass of milk in years and could hardly remember how it tasted. As he tried to remember the last time he had drank any, he realized that it was when he was in the army.

He took another sip of the lemonade realizing that the days where he sat around drinking iced tea was about to come to an end. Perhaps the time the men together spent watching sunsets would be the only time of the day when they could revert to drinking iced tea. As he thought about it, he realized that he could have chocolate milk and milk shakes. He asked, “Do you have any good milk drinks?”

The question surprised Marguerite as she thought about it. She remembered a Peachy Apricot Milk drink that another chef had served in cooking class when she had just entered the Culinary Institute. Smiling, she said, “I think I have some experiments to perform.”

Watching her dance her way into the kitchen, Ed knew that she would busy for the next couple of hours coming up with milk drinks. He finished the lemonade and wandered out of the house. Noticing Maria outside her house, he walked in her direction. When she saw him and ran into the house to avoid him, he was absolutely floored. It reminded him of his days as a bully. Looking around the street, he noticed that other neighbors ran into their houses when they saw him coming.

When he reached downtown, all of the stores had signs on them proclaiming that they were closed. It was a plot to keep him from finding out what was going on and he couldn’t believe how well it was working. The family must have thought this through very thoroughly to be able to keep it from him. It dawned on him that there was one place that would always be open. Smiling, he walked across the street to the Sheriff’s office.

Entering the Sheriff’s office, he saw the Sheriff sitting at his desk. Sauntering over, he said, “Hello, Sheriff.”

“Hello, Ed. How are you doing today?”

“I’m fine. Can you tell me what is going on?”

The Sheriff came out from around the desk and smiled at Ed. He said, “Let me show you something Ed.”

The Sheriff led Ed over to one the cells and pointed inside. He said, “John said that if you were to come by that I was supposed to show you that envelope.”

The Sheriff’s words were the truth. Still Ed was suspicious and said, “Would you get it for me?”

Shaking his head, the Sheriff answered, “Nope. John said that if you wanted to know what was going on, that you would get it.”

The Deputy came in and looked at Ed. Shaking his head, he said, “I’ve been real curious as to what that note says.”

Everyone was telling him the truth. He asked the Sheriff, “Are you going to lock me inside?”

“Nope,” replied the Sheriff. He turned and left the room.

Ed went into the cell to get the letter with the Deputy. As Ed bent down to get the envelope, the deputy stepped back and closed the cell door. When Ed turned around, the deputy closed the door separating the cells from the Sheriff’s office. Angry with himself for having fallen for the trick, he opened the envelope and removed the letter inside. He read it aloud, “Gotcha!”

After testing the door and confirming that it was locked, he sat on the bed and thought about the extreme measures they had taken to hide whatever they were doing. They had succeeded beyond what he thought was possible. He sat back and waited to be released, somewhat amused at the situation.

A couple of hours later, the door opened and John walked into the room. Leaning against the door frame, he said, “I hear that someone was disturbing the peace.”

Ed looked over at John and said, “Yes, you disturbed my peace. Now get me out of here and tell me what is going on.”