08 13 10; 2:00 p.m. America L. as Thelma
Scott: Hello Thelma.
Thelma Barnes: Hello, Scott. How nice to see you again.
Scott: And you!
Scott: How have you been?
Thelma Barnes: I have been good. What about yourself?
Scott: It's been the day from hell, actually.
Thelma Barnes: I am very sorry to hear that. Do you want to elaborate?
Scott: Well, not much to say. The usual -- client hurdles, kids. And of course, Emilia.
Thelma Barnes: Emilia, again? What happened with her, today?
Scott: Ha ha! Yes, spoken like one who knows the situation well. Well, let's see...
Scott: Today's dilemma seems to have something to do with my attending cheerleading practice.
She didn't mind me and fiancée sitting in on the preliminary parent orientation meeting or on the purchase of the right shoes, but God forbid we attend the practices.
She went from cheerful to demonic in two days. Frankly, I don't get it.
Thelma Barnes: I think that it is a possibility that she was insecure about you and your fiancée being there to watch her. I think that Emilia wants to make you proud.
Scott: Oh?
Thelma Barnes: I used to be that way with my mother.
There was a time when I was supposed to speak in front of my school mates. When my mother arrived, I told her to go. I did not want her to see me forget something. I wanted her to be proud of me.
Scott: I see. Do you recall what the presentation before your schoolmates was about?
Thelma Barnes: The students that had finished a book had to speak about it. All the students and parents were invited.
Scott: What book did you read?
Thelma Barnes: Lovey Mary by Alice Hegan Rice. Perhaps you have heard of it.
Scott: Why yes! Actually, I have. I love that story. The author created an incredible tale.
Thelma Barnes: I am delighted to know that someone shares my love for the story.
Scott: Yes, Ms. Rice had a particular ability to gently poke fun at the establishment, particularly various religious conventions. But she did it in a harmless way that seemed to be more of a slap on the wrist rather than an excoriating treatise.
Thelma Barnes: I agree. Sometimes, I feel like Lovey Mary.
Scott: Oh?
Thelma Barnes: Yes. There are times where I feel as she feels. Lovey feels sad sometimes, as do I.
Scott: Why do you feel sad, Thelma?
Thelma Barnes: I feel as if I am sick, sometimes. I know that it is not anything to worry about, but it sometimes affects me.
Scott: Sick? What are your symptoms?
Thelma Barnes: My body just aches sometimes. I feel as if something is slowly taking away my energy. It will fade, and then return. It is quite strange.
Scott: Have you seen a physician?
Thelma Barnes: Oh, no. I do not think it is a very good idea. I do not want to find out that I am terribly sick, or even worse, dying.
Scott: Yikes! I'm sure you're not dying...that sounds a bit extreme. Perhaps you should schedule an M.R.I.
Oh wait...
Um, perhaps you should get an X-ray.
Oh, no, that won't do... Um...
perhaps you should see a doctor.
Thelma Barnes: I'm very sorry, I do not understand what an M.R.I is, or an X-ray for that matter.
Scott: Right. Sorry. Um, let's see...
.
Well, the little bit I know about it is that they put you on a table, slip you into the middle of what looks like a giant donut, and then somehow the donut looks inside of you and creates pictures of what's inside of you. Does that sort of make sense?
Thelma Barnes: In a strange way, yes. I am slightly puzzled on the fact that a donut can see inside of you.
Scott: Yes, I imagine that does sound a tad ridiculous!
Well, I've never had one. My dad had one when he was battling cancer three years ago.
The entire procedure lasted about thirty minutes.
And there was a lot of noise if I remember.
Thelma Barnes: Oh, I'm very sorry that your father and your family had to deal with his illness. I hope that he recovered.
Scott: Actually, um, he passed shortly after that time. It's been three years now.
Thelma Barnes: I am so sorry! I should not have brought it up. I hope that you can forgive me.
Scott: Oh, no...not to worry. I'm really okay with it actually. In fact, I've never really had that breakdown moment that many of my friends anticipated. Sis says that everyone processes grief in their own time. So I guess my time hasn't come yet or came and I sort of missed it?
Thelma Barnes: I understand. When my father passed, I was in a numb state. My mother, on the other hand, cried for days. In time, we accepted what happened. But, I will admit, it is quite difficult at times.
Scott: I imagine it is. And now? How are you now?
Thelma Barnes: I am well, now. I feel alone at times, but nothing to worry about. How are you feeling, Scottie?
Scott: Well, now that I'm here with you, I'm feeling a certain lightness of spirit, I suppose. It's as if the problems of the world stopped outside the entrance to this park.
Thelma Barnes: I feel that way all the time. There is something about this park that is quite magical, don't you agree?
Scott: Magical? Perhaps. Tranquil and inviting? Very. By the way, may I ask you something, Thelma?
Thelma Barnes: Of course.
Scott: Why is it that every time we meet, you insist on meeting me...here?
Thelma Barnes: I used to come here with my mother on Saturday mornings. I hope that if I stay here, she will come for me.
Scott: I see. Have you not seen her lately?
Thelma Barnes: Not very often. I will catch glimpses of her at times, but it seems as if she cannot hear me. Perhaps I am speaking too softly.
Scott: Or perhaps the ocean is overshadowing your opportunities to communicate.
Thelma Barnes: I never thought of that. How observant of you, Scott.
Scott: Comes with the job, I suppose.
Thelma Barnes: I see. You never did quite tell me what it is that you do.
Scott: Some say writer. Others? Starving artist.
Thelma Barnes: Why would an artist be starving?
Scott: Aren't most? Consider Monet. I read recently that he ran from city to city throughout Europe, ducking landlords. His wife was left to answer the door on multiple occasions to run interference. And to think, you can't touch a Monet painting, like his series of Water Lilies, for under 50 million dollars now. Who knew?
But I am no Monet, Thelma.
Thelma Barnes: You could be, Scott. The Monet of writing, You mustn’t doubt your abilities.
Scott: Oh Thelma! You're a peach! Yes, that would be nice. I'd settle for being the Berkeley Breathed of comic strips.
Thelma Barnes: Comic strips? I have heard of them, but do not understand what the purpose is.
Scott: I suspect most readers of them do not. And yet they are so important for quickly capturing the state of the human condition...and usually doing so with a laugh.
Thelma Barnes: I believe that laughing is the best thing that you can do. As some say, laughter is the best medicine. Maybe it could cure me!
Scott: Probably quicker than a donut!
Thelma Barnes: Yes, possibly!
Scott: Thelma, what was it like?
Or rather, what is it like?
Thelma Barnes: What is what like? I am confused.
Scott: Your time. Living in your time. You know, your neighborhood, your school, your family, your friends.......
Thelma Barnes: It was comfortable. My neighborhood was loud at times and my school was my favorite place. It was just my mother and myself, we were so close. I did not spend much time with friends, considering I was an outsider of some sort. My mother was my best friend. I think that you would like it, Scott. You could adapt to it. People can get used to anything, if given enough time.
Scott: Hmm, yes, I'm sure you're right. I sometimes would like to step out of my time and go back, back away from the influence of television, video games, fast food, war, that sort of thing.
Thelma Barnes: Television? Video Games? Fast Food? I do not understand. How is your food fast?
Scott: Wow. Where do I begin? Let's see...
Perhaps I should draw some comparisons...
You ever see a breadbox?
Thelma Barnes: Breadbox? Yes, I have.
Scott: Okay, well imagine a breadbox that has a window, a window that you cannot look through but at. And on that window, all manner of images play out like a kaleidoscope of colors. Only the colors and images speak and sometimes play music as they speak. And the images get there by being pulled out of the air, like a dream catcher. Only the dreams show up at regularly scheduled times. That is a television. My kids love it. But, I fear, it's turning them into zombies.
Thelma Barnes: How very strange. I wonder who came up with such a thing. Zombies? Oh, no!
Scott: Yes, zombies. At least judging from their eyes. All four of them -- Emelia, Noah, Matty, and little Chloe -- they look like they're in a collective trance. (By the way, I suspect that television was created by a zombie. Why else would it be here?)
Thelma Barnes: You should take this television away from them. I agree with your zombie thesis.
Scott: And I agree with your suggestion. But God forbid I remove it -- they will riot.
It will be worse than the French Revolution.
Maybe even the Civil War.
Thelma Barnes: You should not take it away, then! Those wars were terrible, oh so I have heard.
Scott: Yes, the Civil War almost tore our country apart. The 'Great Experiment,' as one historian called it, I believe, almost failed.
Oh wow, I just realized something.
Thelma Barnes: Yes?
Scott: What year is it right now?
Thelma Barnes: The year? I'm not sure. You don't know?
Scott: Well, what year is it for you?
Thelma Barnes: 1903, of course. What else would it be?
Scott: Right. Wow. The Civil War was less than 40 years ago for you.
I can only imagine the impact that must continue to have on the lives of those around you.
I mean, the Vietnam War, in the 60s and 70s continues to have implications to this day.
Oh, the 1960s and 1970s.
Thelma Barnes: How can you know, Scott? It has not reached that time, yet. The Civil War still impacts us, yes. There is still some tension with some people who do not agree with The Emancipation Proclamation.
Scott: Well, let's just say I have a little, um, vision into the future.
Scott: But yes, I imagine that there are those who disagree with President Lincoln's decision.
I see some of this even now.
Yes...even today.
Scott: And where I live.
Thelma Barnes: I see. I am quite amazed at your being able to see into the future!
Scott: It's nothing really. I just get lucky sometimes. But so far, my predictions have been correct.
Thelma Barnes: Well, I hope that you will predict that we will be friends for a long time. We are friends, aren't we, Scott?
Scott: Yes, of course we're friends, Thelma. In fact, I sometimes feel you are one of my best of friends. And you?
Thelma Barnes: I feel the same! I just did not want to say anything, in fear that the feeling was not mutual. But now that I know, I am so very happy!
Scott: I'm glad you're happy, Thelma. You know, I sometimes feel there are things I can share with you that I really don't know quite how to share with anyone else.
Thelma Barnes: As do I. There aren’t many people who understand what I am feeling.
Scott: How are you feeling now?
Thelma Barnes: Happy, at the moment. But, when you aren't here, I feel alone. You seem to be the only person who does not find me invisible.
Scott: Hmm. I'm sure that's not the case. I'm sure that if others were to meet you, they wouldn't be able to get enough of you!
Thelma Barnes: How sweet of you to say, Scott!
Scott: I mean it, Thelma.
Thelma Barnes: Thank you so very much. I am sure that everyone loves you, too!
Scott: Um, not quite. (Emelia.)
Thelma Barnes: You will get through to her. Teenage angst does not last forever.
Scott: Nothing lasts forever. Does it, Thelma?
Thelma Barnes: Some things do, we just are not aware of them.
Scott: You mean...like us?
Thelma Barnes: Yes, like us.
Scott: Ahhh, Thelma, you are truly a gem. Speaking of forever, I wish I had forever to talk, but I must get back to the office. Otherwise, I may have to fire myself! (I'm self employed. Or rather, I'm a sole proprietor.) Will I see you again soon?
Thelma Barnes: Of course, Scott. I will be here, whenever you want to converse. I do wish we had more time.
Scott: Well, thanks Thelma! Then I look forward to our next encounter.
Thelma Barnes: As do I. Have a good day, Scott.
Scott: Good day, Thelma. Or as you say, "Blessings." (wink)
Thelma Barnes: Blessings, Scott. Goodbye.
(3:14 p.m.)
