Bedeviled

I was standing at the corner of 1st avenue and 3rd avenue, patiently waiting for my deviled eggs to arrive when, out of nowhere, a thought hit me: “What if my eggs were never to arrive?” Before I gave way to panic, I decided to cross 1st avenue to make sure I was on the right corner. After a little while, I proceeded to cross 3rd avenue, then 1st, then 3rd again until, after half an hour or so, I was back where I started with the same thought waiting there for me. I was really concerned: the idea of my deviled eggs lost and hopeless in this jungle of brick and mortar had me close to a panic: “What if they fell into the wrong hands?” Attempting to control my breathing which was by now close to a pant, I decided to sit down on the curb and take off my shirt. This would put me in a much better position to assess my situation; my nipples feeling the cool evening breeze providing needed relaxation. My eggs were an hour late and I had to prepare myself for the worst. Although I knew I could live through this catastrophe, it would be a great loss.

Deviled eggs mean a lot to me. For as far back as I can remember they have always been at the very center of my being. After all, they are often the only date to accompany me to pot luck parties I attend. But they are more than that. Elaborated from purity and a hint of carnal sin, they bring comfort yet are demonized. Their color represents both the pure whiteness of snowy peaks and the yellow hue of the snow one does not eat. The truncated ovoid shape of the egg white is like Noah’s Ark withstanding stormy seas to preserve its precious cargo while the protuberance of fluffy egg yolk is the heavy fog that drives so many ships to disaster. Their duality seems boundless: firm yet soft, mild yet spicy, bland yet tasty, both the beginning and the end: they are a universe in a bite. Deviled eggs mean a lot to me.

Another hour and still they were not here, I was getting weak; the thought of being stood up was eating me up inside. Fond recollections of happier times occupied my mind: the pool party where my eggs were so enticing with their sprinkle of paprika or the after-ski gathering where the hint of hot sauce made the other guests blush; O the memories. Every time I heard a car coming, I would jump up but as it drove by without stopping, I would sink into a depressed state again. Why now? What did I do wrong? What was the meaning of it all?

Then, when I no longer expected it, the familiar white Oldsmobile pulled up next to me. As I glanced at the passenger seat, I saw them, protected as they were in the old faithful Tupperware deviled egg container. In the driver seat my mother, spewing out excuses I was too excited to hear. My eggs were there in all their splendour, life was good.

Almost Making History 4

It seems that making history; becoming famous; changing the world is as much about having dumb luck as having great talent, superior intelligence or innate predisposition. There are so many stories of people that just happened to have the right idea, at the right place and at the right time that I decided to write about those that happened to have the wrong idea, at the wrong place or at the wrong time. Note that the names, dates and events have been changed to protect the innocent and ensure their continued anonymity.

He knew it would be a long trip, with a lot of walking, but Giacomo Vespucci was up for it. After all, he was the son of one of Venice’s most respected merchant and had covered Italy from knee to toe while assisting his father in his commerce. Giacomo was an explorer at heart: as a young child he would go farther and farther into the woods surround the family’s summer villa to find places where, as he loved to say: “... no feet have seen the grounds I am threading.”. So, when his good buddy, Emilione asked that he join him and others for a really long commercial trip in the direction of the rising sun, Giacomo knew it was meant to be.

After months of preparation, the group was ready to set off. Although Emilione was truly good friends with Giacomo, he also invited him to obtain, through him, the support of the very rich and very influential Vespucci family. And it paid off. The Vespucci footed a large part of the bill and provided Giacomo with all he asked. They were happy to see one of their own looking at extending the family business outside of Italy. So, on a cool fall morning, the group left Venice for Acre and, from there, the East.

As expected, the trip was strenuous and some of the areas they visited quite unnerving, to say the least. As time went by, key members of the group, both friars sent by the Pope at the Khan’s request, became more and more concerned about the dangers they would be encountering as they continued towards Mongolia. Giacomo, who was spending a lot of time with the two, was getting scared too. Travelling in Italy and exploring the forest around the summer villa was quite different from what he was seeing now: people that could not speak a word of Italian; faces of every color and shape; strange animals and very strange customs. When they were sitting around the camp fire at night, the friars would relate stories they had read on the regions yet to be visited: people without heads, people with only one eye, people with only one leg and a large foot… Giacomo was growing nervous of pushing further east.

One morning, after a night filled with nightmares of war and prison, Giacomo walked out of his tent and noticed the two friars stealthily gathering their belongings and preparing the camels for a quick departure. Giacomo saw no need to ask, he knew at once that the friars were leaving the expedition to go back to civilization. Giacomo knew it was his chance to get out of it too so he quickly gathered his personal effects and ran to catch up with the friars.

It had been a spur of the moment decision but it had lasting effects on Giacomo’s life. His family was not happy to see him return with nothing to show for the large sums they had invested in the venture. Giacomo was booted from the family business (and the family). He left Venice and went on to open a small barber shop in a suburb of Rome where he vanished into anonymity.

In the mean time Emilione (who’s preferred being called Marco) continued on to live one incredible adventure after another in China. After many years, he returned to Venice with his father and uncle, all wealthy from their long journey to China. He went on to write a book that became a bestseller then and is still studied now: The Travels of Marco Polo…

Circles

All his life, Vilis loved circles. He just felt they represented the perfect shape. No edges or corners, not a single point along the line with a more glamorous role; everything equal. He believed circles were at the center of everyone’s lives. Where would we be without the wheel? How would civil servants describe there work other than by saying they go round in circles? Children are always excited by the Merry-go-round. Married just love the roundness of the ring that signifies their life long union, the state of their bank and the elation of the sex life.

So, when a call to the population was made to create a flag for his home town, Apkārtraksts in Latvia, Vilis thought it was obvious: a big white circle in the middle of a red rectangle. Vilis believed that not only would his flag give prominence to the perfect shape, but it would also be a great way to link the city’s standard to that of Latvia, which depicts a straight white line across a red rectangle.

Reception was mixed; some Apkārtrakstians loved the idea, while others thought it was ludicrous. Vilis was really disappointed because he could not understand what some of his fellow Apkārtrakstians found absurd about the flag. Being a stubborn man, Vilis set out on a mission to get his Baltais aplis (white circle) accepted. He knocked on every politically connected door; met every journalist, columnist, editorialist, publicist, capitalist, communist, socialist, therapist, herbalist and dentist he could find, trying to build support for his idea. It seemed that each time he got someone to jump on the bandwagon, someone else jumped off. Years went by with little change; season followed season yet the Baltais aplis was still no closer to becoming Apkārtraksts’ flag. Over time, the population lost interest in the flag project and so the whole thing was forgotten.

Vilis never forgot. He grew more and more bitter and finally decided to move out of Apkārtraksts to live in the countryside where he could pursue his lifelong interest in crop circles. Vilis went on to marry and lead a quiet, fairly uneventful life. His study of crop circles resulted in the Latvian best seller: Aplis šis! (Circle this!).

Vilis’ son, Siliv, was feeling sad as his father was being laid to rest. Although he had had limited contact with him since he and his mother had separated, Siliv still loved his father. After the divorce, Siliv moved to Apkārtraksts with his mother. Vilis, for reasons unknown, always refused to go and visit him in the city; so Siliv saw little of him. Siliv still always felt a deep connection with his father. After all, all his life, Siliv too loved circles.

The Fishermen

This story took place in a small village on the East coast of Spain called San Pequeno Salvador De Oro Del Muy Frio Mar De Un Hermoso Azul; San P for short. In San P lived 2 fishermen: Pedro Blanco de San P… and Juan Negro de San P… (no relation). They were both fairly successful in their trade and earning an honest living. As is often the case in these circumstances, they had both found their niche: Pedro specialized in catching fish using live bait while Juan was a recognized expert in the use of artificial lures. In the village of San P, it seemed as though half the population preferred Pedro's fish while the other half preferred Juan's. And, though some heated discussions arose once in a while over who's fish was best to make the local speciality, guiso de pescado con mantequilla de maní y jalea, life was quiet and peaceful in San P. But any equilibrium is fragile.

Things changed in San P when Pedro's first child was born. The extra mouth to feed put a lot of pressure on Pedro who saw no other way but to increase his income. He first thought of using more lines or going further out to sea but he didn't think that was the way to go. He then had what he believed to be a stroke of genius: if he added artificial lures to his live bait, he would more than likely catch more fish and also possibly attract some of Juan's clientele. He thought the potential negative impact on some of his long time clients who preferred fish caught with bait would be minimised by the fact that he was still using bait, only adding to it. So Pedro went ahead with his new approach and, in only a short time, his catch and sales increased significantly. Suffice to say that Juan was really frustrated. Loosing clients to his competitor wasn't what he needed. He was building a brand new casa high up on the hill overlooking San P and he needed all of his revenues to cover the costs. So, Juan decided to go ahead and add live bait to his artificial lures. The effect were almost immediate: some of his old clients came back and he gained new ones who where dissatisfied with what they perceived as unorthodoxy on the part of Pedro. Equilibrium was reached once more, but to no one's satisfaction.

Juan's house was costing much more than initially planned: his wife's vision of having pink marble inside the kitchen cabinets now seemed like overkill but it was too late, Juan needed more revenue. So, in an effort to catch more fish, he decided to put down some lines in Pedro's fishing hole, over and above those he used in his own. This required him to work longer days and get up much earlier in the morning but, at least, the house could be paid for and his wife would be happy. The news made its way around the village like a wildfire, since Juan was coming into port much earlier than Pedro, he took away a number of Pedro's clients who were happy to get the same fish they usually got from Pedro, but earlier. Pedro was extremely unhappy, the fragile balance was no longer. Pedro decided that the best thing he could do was to fish longer hours, even if it meant coming in really late at night (he hated getting up early but was a night owl), and put some lines in Juan's fishing hole. The results were quick to materialize. A number of Juan's clients were really happy to get their fish late at night because it allowed them to prepare their meals ahead of time. Again, an equilibrium was reached but both fishermen were miserable; the long hours were taken their toll and they were not bringing in any more money than before.

In order to try and get the upper hand, Juan decided to start doing all of his fishing in Pedro's spot. Since he was there early in the morning, he could complete his fishing before Pedro ever showed up. Some village folks were not that happy with the change but at least they were getting their fish early so continued to buy Juan's fish. Seeing this, Pedro decided to now fish exclusively in Juan's spot. Because he was out late at night, Pedro could fish there without ever running into Juan. Yet another unsatisfying equilibrium was reached.

But Pedro, wanting to differentiate his catch, decided to now fish in Juan's fishing hole using exclusively artificial lures and, as a response, Juan decide to now fish in Pedro's fishing hole using exclusively live bait. The end result of this last change was that the fifty percent of the population that once preferred Pedro's fish now preferred Juan's and vice versa. White was black and black was white.

This story may seem to have come full circle but it highlights, I believe, an important point: although imitation is said to be the sincerest form of flattery, it will get the imitator no further once he can no longer be distinguished from the imitated.

In the end, one should always stay true to one's self or run the risk of becoming someone else.

Sunset on the Pacific

A picture I took while on vacation in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (before the H1N1 hype). What a great place and my first sunset over the ocean! I have a number of cloudless sunsets but prefer this one as the clouds seem to play with the light, giving a greater spectrum of colours to the sky. When I look at this picture, I can still feel the ocean breeze.

On Green Pond

I live next to Gatineau Park, a small federal park covering a beautiful region of the Gatineau Hills. I took this picture while on the trail up to Pink lake. This small pond was covered with some sort of pollen (or algae?) that made it look like a solid green surface. It was an amazing sight and, with the lengthening shadows providing contrast, made for an interesting photograph.

Wisdom comes at a price

It started like any other night, but I should have known something was different. It must have been 3:00AM or so, I was tossing and turning, sweaty and feverish. Then, I felt it, like a dagger being planted in my left cheek. No doubt, I was coming of age, about to achieve wisdom; or so I thought. Little did I know that wisdom did not come easy, it had to be earned through ever increasing levels of pain and suffering. I did not sleep much for the rest of that night. The next morning, I called my dentist.

- Hello, may I speak to Dr Waldowski please.
- One moment please.
- Doctor?
- Yes?
- I feel an intolerable pain on the left side of my mouth, it comes and goes, but each time it seems more painful and the period shorter and shorter.
- Well, I see two possibilities. Either you are about to have a baby through your cheek, or your wisdom teeth are trying to make an appearance.
- You can eliminate the baby possibility, unless you believe in immaculate masculine conception. So I think it may be the second option.
- Honestly, I believe it to be the most likely scenario. I just wanted you to be cognisant of all the possibilities. Now that you know, I hope you feel better.
- Yes and no, knowledge is certainly power but not much of a painkiller. Would it be possible to have an appointment with you today?
- Certainly, I have some time right after lunch, but I must warn you, today is Kielbasa day at the club.
- Between smell and pain, I will pick smell any day. I'll be there at 1:00.

I spent the morning aimlessly walking around the house, moaning, while holding an icepack to my cheek. Finally the time came to go to my appointment. I drove myself to Dr Waldowski's office. I was not really sure how I got there, I only really remembered leaving point A and arriving at point B. I hoped I hadn't done anything stupid between the two. When I walked into the dental office, Mrs Waldowski greeted me with her usual smile.

I've been going to Dr Wakdowski for as long as I can remember. When I was young, every time I walked into that office, it was a bittersweet moment. I knew that if I accepted the pain without complaint, my mother would take me to Kresge to buy me a little something. This time, it was also bittersweet. After the pain would come wisdom.

- Mr O'Reilly, how are you today?
- Well Mrs Waldowski, I could be better. My wisdom teeth are acting up and I can't say I am enjoying the performance.
- Oh, I know what you mean Mr O'Reilly. We had a patient years ago who was in so much pain because of his wisdom teeth... I can't recall his name, he died shortly after that visit. Anyhow, his teeth were so difficult to pull out that I had to hold him down in the chair while Dr Waldowski pulled with the biggest pliers he had.

Mrs Waldowski was well known for her "feel good" stories. Some said that she does this to make the patients nervous, as a challenge to her husband. It worked.

- He died?
- Yes.
- From having his wisdom teeth pulled out?
- No, from a brain hemorrhage.
- His wisdom teeth caused a brain hemorrhage?
- No, the car accident did.

Mrs Waldowski was well known for her inability to read more into a question than what was stated. Some said it's because she was colour blind.

- Please take a seat, the doctor will be hear shortly.

I sat down, trying to forget the pain. It was diffiicult since it seemed that everything in that waiting room was planned to remind me of it. The vague smell of clove, the magazines that looked like they barely escaped a full on attack by a desperate toddler, the uncomfortable chairs, CNN for the hearing impaired on the television. Finally, the doctor arrived and called me in.

- Good afternoon Walter.
- Good afternoon Dr Waldowski. How was the Kielbasa?
- Nice and garlicky! Please sit down and we will have a look at your teeth.

After looking around for a few seconds, Dr Waldowki sat back, seemingly perplexed.

- Hum, it is a bit worse than I expected. It seems that the wisdom teeth are pushing on 28 and 38.

Dr Waldowski was well known for his lack of diplomacy. Some said it's because he once was in the army.

- How can that be, I'm only 24?

He either didn't hear me or decided to ignore my comment. He continued explaining the situation in a way that made me realize he was talking to himself and not to me. So I tuned out, distractedly watching CNN on the ceiling mounted television. they were forecasting rain in Atlanta that day. But then, a word brought me back to reality.

-.... cut the gum to get at the teeth.
- You will need to cut the gum?
- Yes, the way your teeth are growing, they may never come out but will keep pushing on the teeth in front, causing discomfort.
- Is it painful?
- Just a bit.

The excruciating pain I had been feeling was only considered, from his point of view, a discomfort. I couldn't imagine what 'a bit painful' might be like.

- Any other options?
- Just one. But it involves a hammer and a bottle of scotch...
- OK, where's the scotch?
- All I have is the hammer, sorry. So I guess we will go ahead with my first approach.

There is no point in going over the details of the procedure. Suffice to say that it was very uncomfortable and that the only thing that kept me from crying was thinking that, afterwards, I would attain "wisdom of the left side".

- There you go Walter, all done. I will prescribe you some painkillers. The effect of the anesthesia will last for a few hours but I suggest you take two painkillers in about an hour so that they overlap the anesthesia.
- FfffffThang gyou doctow Walfffoffski.

I went to the pharmacy and drove home. As I walked into my house, my knees buckled; the pain was unreal. The anesthesia had lasted for half an hour at most. Dr Waldowski is well known for his inability to estimate time. Some say it's because he was a philatelist.
I took the painkillers and waited, and waited, and waited. After 45 minutes or so, the pain started to subside. I could finally find the courage to go back and close the front door.
Now came the longest wait. I sat in the middle of the living room in the dandelion position (I was never able to achieve the lotus position so I invented my own - Chair in the reclined position, remote control in the left hand, arms on the armrests, left foot over right, on the footrest) waiting for wisdom to arrive. Then, out of thin air came a ringing sound, "finally", I thought to myself. "here it comes". I was wrong, it was my mother calling to find out how I was doing. After a short conversation, I went back to my meditation.

It must have been the painkillers; I passed out for a good 2 hours. When I woke up, I felt the same, no wiser. I was disappointed; I thought wisdom would be some sort of "come to Jesus" moment or like when Buddha achieved enlightenment. But it was not the case, at least not for me. I didn't feel or look wiser, and I still couldn't figure out why the chicken crossed the road. Nothing more happened in the following days, weeks, months and years and I forgot about the whole story.

Many years later I realised that wisdom doe not come with the extraction of wisdom teeth. Wisdom comes with experience and experience comes with time. So maybe that dental hell did make me a bit wiser after all?