08 12 10; 10:00 a.m. Linnea C. as Thelma
Scott: Hello Thelma
Thelma: Oh, hello Scott!
Scott: You're looking well.
Thelma: As well as I can, what with my certain condition... Thank you all the same
Scott: Oh? Oh, that's right, the sickness you told me about. How are you doing with that?
Thelma: I've always been able to adjust, so I am quite well
Yourself?
Scott: To be honest, it was a bit of the day from hell today.
Problem clients. Kids making demands. And, of course, Emilia.
Thelma: I'm glad I haven't had to experience hell, but I hope that now you are feeling better?
Scott: Only time will tell.
Thelma: Ah, Emilia. How is she?
Scott: Funny you should ask. I'm at a loss to try to figure her out. Her moods swing like the weather in Maine.
Thelma: That's quite typical of most girls. And the weather in Maine can be quite breezy
Scott: You are eternally optimistic, Thelma. But for my part, I feel as if one moment, she's giddy and laughing and joking around; the next? It's like a chained bear in a cage that hasn't eaten in days.
Thelma: Give the bear food.
Scott: What kind? (She only eats chicken nuggets far as I can tell.)
Thelma: Honey usually works best, but kind words work as well.
Scott: Oh! I see. You are speaking figuratively.
Yes, I've heard you can attract more flies with honey. But you can also attract more bears!
I don't know, Thelma. Maybe it's just because I'm a guy, but I simply do not remember acting this way with my parents when I was her age.
How is your mother?
Thelma: My mother is well. I spoke to her moments ago.
Scott: Is she continuing to ask about...us?
Thelma: Yes, but I do hope you will not take that in the wrong way. She asks positively about Emelia.
Scott: Oh? Now that's interesting. Perhaps I should seek her advice as well sometime. What, if I may, does she want to know?
Thelma: She asks how Emilia gets along with you, how you are trying to strengthen your relationship.
Scott: Do you think she understands and appreciates my dilemma?
Thelma: Of course, although it must be different for her, as she is the mother instead of the father
Scott: Ah, yes, no doubt. If I recall, you lost your father some time ago. Do you think about him often?
Thelma: Every moment; not a day goes by without thinking about him.
I often ask my mother questions about him, although she is very quiet about the subject.
Scott: I can't be sure, of course, but I wonder why...
Do you feel she has something to hide?
Thelma: Maybe not something to hide, rather she hasn't accepted his passing.
He died of Diphtheria... a rather common disease in the 1890's.
Scott: Ouch. No fun. No fun at all. I lost my father three years ago.
But I may have told you that last time we met here.
Thelma: No, I do not recall that. Please accept my deepest sympathy. But, may I ask, of what?
Scott: Thank you, Thelma. It was skin cancer. Metastatic melanoma, they called it. A dot the size of a pencil eraser took him away within six months.
Thelma: I am unsure of whether I have heard of such an infirmity
Scott: My recommendation: stay out of the sun whenever possible.
Thelma: And the size of a... what?
Scott: Um, right, of course…the tip of a knitting needle.
May I ask you something, Thelma?
Thelma: Such a small wound to cause so much harm; and of course you may.
Scott: Why do you always want to meet me here...in this park?
Thelma: I feel a strange attachment here... It's so peaceful.
Scott: True, that it is. But it seems a bit lonely to me.
Thelma: Every night, friends visit me. So maybe it is to others, but I hear many tales from them.
Scott: Oh? Tales of what?
Thelma: Life, living. Being alive. Their lives, specifically. So many things that I have never heard of.
Things I never had the chance to see or do.
Scott: What sorts of things?
Thelma: Music
Lots of music
Scott: You like music? You mean you wish you could play an instrument or to attend an orchestra performance, like that?
Thelma: No, more how it inspires me.
Scott: Do you have a favorite song?
Thelma: Have you ever heard of Harry von Tilzer?
Scott: Hmm, can't say that I have. I've heard of Harry Bellefonte. I believe he performed in the 50s and 60s.
(1950s and 60s)
Thelma: Oh, why I had never heard of any music in that time. That is so far ahead... What kind of music did he play?
Scott: Oh, wow, I'm sure I don't know! That was like 10 years before I was born and more than 50 years ago. I can google it if you like the next time I'm on my computer.
Thelma: What is a google?
Scott: Oh, wow. Hmm. Where do I begin? Um, well, think about it this way.....
What if you wanted to know anything -- I mean, anything, and what if to know that anything all you had to do was press a few buttons while seated at a desk, and suddenly -- voila! -- the answer to what you wanted to know appeared before you in a one-way window?
Thelma: Like magic?
I'm really not allowed to be around sorcery... Mother says not to
Scott: Yes, but without the black hat and rabbit.
Well, it's not really sorcery (though I suspect some might think the Devil is behind it). It's more like having the keys to and visiting a big library but without ever having to leave your room.
Though now that you mention it, the word 'Google' does sound a bit like a spell.
Thelma: Usually when I have a question that I cannot answer myself, I consult Mother.
She always has the answers.
How might I have access to your 'Google'?
Scott: I bet she does! Well, this thing called Google is a little like your Mother, only without a dress.
Um, that didn't sound right. Lemme try again.
Um....
Well, to get access to Google, you would have to first have a computer.
Thelma: Which is...?
Scott: Ever seen a breadbox?
Thelma: Of course.
Scott: It's about that size. Now imagine, if you will, a breadbox that, instead of bread, contained all these wires and switches and wafer-thin plates containing more wires and switches. Now imagine....that breadbox sitting below or directly in front of a one-way window where pictures and words play out across the window.
Ever used a typewriter?
Thelma: No, but I am sure my mother has. We do not own one.
Mother was a stenographer.
Scott: Right, of course. So she knows how to type. Ah, well, to make the breadbox talk, no, not talk, more like whirr and buzz and light up, you have to press a bunch of typewriter keys. Only this breadbox is connected to a lot of other breadboxes -- millions of 'em -- all around the world. And each breadbox has bits of information (like miniature libraries) that you can access using this thing called 'Google.'
Google is like, um, an address, which instead of the address you live at or your neighbors live at, won't take you to just one place...but lots of places.
Thelma: That would be a lot of wires... Beyond my imagination
Scott: That must seem strange to you.
Well, truth is, in many cases, there are no wires. These breadboxes are wireless. They can actually talk to each other.
Thelma: Very strange. If I consult Mother of this, will you be offended?
Scott: Wow. It is a bit mind-boggling when I think about it.
Um, I dunno. I mean, I wouldn't be offended, but given her concern about sorcery, she might not quite, um, how shall I say this? -- get it.
You know, to cavemen, lightning must have seemed like sorcery in a way.
Thelma: Oh, I see. I agree with this, but you mentioned pictures. She likes pictures.
We would go to the beach with a Brownie Box camera and take pictures.
Scott: Yes, not only can you see answers to your questions on this one-way window, you can also see pictures. Pretty much whatever pictures you want. You take pictures?
What do you like to photograph?
Thelma: The waves of the beach, and occasionally the ships that pass by.
Scott: Do you develop the pictures yourself or do you drop them off at the CVS...the drugstore...um, the apothecary?
Thelma: Actually, the apothecary is only for ailments.
We would send the cartridge inside the camera by mail to an address.
They would send back the pictures.
Occasionally, mother would send money to that address, and we would recieve a new cartridge.
Scott: I see. What do you think about when you look at your and your mother's pictures?
Thelma: I don't. We lost the pictures in the waves at the beach.
Scott: Oh, sad. Perhaps they will show up someday on the shores of Europe!
That would be interesting.
Of course, considering that you can be there in less than five hours from JFK in New York, you could always go retrieve them.
Thelma: I agree. I spent quite some time searching for them when they were carried away by the tide.
Scott: Actually, here in Los Angeles, you'd have to use LAX.
(It's an airport.)
Thelma: What would you do with a port in the air?
Scott: Phew. Wow! Right. Um, let's see....
Well, it's not really so much a port in the air. It's on the ground. But that's where they park these airships that, like google, can take you anywhere.
Thelma: Another sorcery trick? I think you should stay away from those, Scott.
Scott: And like wireless breadboxes, you actually fly through the air.
Yes, I actually agree with you. There's simply too much technology around us to take us away from ourselves and smelling the flowers...like the ones here in this park.
If I could get the kids off the couch and away from sitting in front of the TV, they'd realize there's an entire world to be discovered. But off the couch and away from the desk.
Thelma: One of my friends mentioned a TV... It's a very complex device that children should probably stay away from as well, right?
Scott: DEFINITELY. You can say that again. Yep. It's become a sort of bigger than a breadbox-sized baby sitter, a nanny if you will. Only a nanny that does all the talking.
: ....these 'friends' of yours, exactly where did they say they come from?
Thelma: A facebook.
Scott: Facebook?! You've heard about that?
Thelma: Yes, apparently it’s a bit like a typewriter, only different...
Scott: That's for sure.
I think of it like a collection of diary pages which belong to a lot of other people and yourself only the diary pages are constantly changing and being added to.
Speaking of diaries, Thelma, do you keep one?
Thelma: Most certainly.
All the girls my age keep one.
Scott: What do you like to write about? -- Of course, if this is all private, I really shouldn't ask, I suppose.
Thelma: No, its quite alright. I write about my days at the beach, and the people I've met, I write about my Mother. Sometimes I write questions of what my Father was like, or how I imagine him to be like.
Scott: How do you imagine him to be?
Thelma: Mother says she sees him in me... I have his eyes.
Scott: You have very pretty eyes, they are...penetrating, like you are looking right into me.
Thelma: Only as far as you let me
Scott: Ah, as Shakespeare said, 'Therein lies the rub.' You are suggesting, like perhaps some of my ex girlfriends from long ago, that it's not easy to figure me out? I don't let people in?
My fiancée, so far, has not said this.
Thelma: Maybe. Perhaps that is what you need to show Emelia.
Scott: Come again?
Show her what?
Thelma: What you feel. I feel that you must let her see what you think of her, and that will gain her trust.
Scott: Ah, yes. Not an easy request to fulfill.
Perhaps, at some level, I'm afraid.
Thelma: Opening your heart is always a bit vulnerable. But I am sure, you will find it is most certainly rewarding.
If this is the path you so choose...
Scott: I'm sure you're right, Thelma. But like all fears, they seem far more daunting and insurmountable until you actually face them. And I know that when I do face them and deal with them, they all but vaporize. So you would think I would trust that outcome by now. But each fear remains a fear because, well, that's what fear is: very deceiving.
I heard a syllogism once, went something like this:
If fear is an absence of love, and God is love, then fear is an absence of God. Do you agree?
Thelma: I do agree. But we make our own decisions on who we are. I may choose to not let fear rule me.
Scott: So nothing scares you?
Thelma: Not anymore.
Scott: Since...when?
Thelma: Since I accepted my own fate. When the physician said I was not able to be cured. That was when I stiopped being afraid.
Scott: I see. That's impressive -- I mean, your acceptance -- but I'm sad for you all the same. That hurts me when I consider your 'fate' as you call it. Maybe it's not your fate,
Thelma. Maybe things will turn around. You never know what the future holds. Consider us! Look how we've met.
Thelma: That is true. Maybe things will turn around, like one day I will fully understand your 'Google.'
Scott: And I will fully understand Emilia!
If so, that would be proof that there is a God!
Thelma: Yes, and even the thought makes me ecstatic. These would be delightful.
Scott: Oh wow! Look at the time! Thelma...I must go now. Will I see you again?
Thelma: Of course you will.
I look forward to seeing you again.
Scott: Ah, delightful! I so do enjoy these chats.
Okay, then until next time, I bid you well.
Remember me?
Thelma: As do I, Blessings.
Scott: Yes...blessings!
Thelma: I wouldn't dream of forgetting you
Scott: (wink)
Thelma: Goodbye
Scott: Goodbye, Thelma.
(11:22 a.m.)
