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March 13, 2011
The Rocking Pig
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So, we're walking down the Pearl Street mall, hoping for flowers. For some sign of spring that might save us. Only the Pansies, purple and yellow, grace the flower boxes. Between them, broad shoots stabbing up from the winter's earth. Shoots from the Tulip bulbs, gasping for the light.
"Who knows what flowers are these?" I ask.
"Pansies," Jennifer replies immediately.
"But what are the shoots coming up between the Pansies?" I challenge.
"Tulips," Jennifer shoots back immediately.
I dunno how she knows this. Probably I've told her before. Probably I've told her already today. I cannot know. This is not for me to know. Only I can teach her what I believe to be true, and hope for the best. This is all. This is all.
We wander a bit further down the pedestrian mall. We're going to some candy store Jennifer and I found out in San Diego a couple of years ago. A place that specializes in obsolete candies. This is the goal, in theory.
At some point, we discover a "Rocking Pig". Similar to a Rocking Horse, only it's a pig of course. Who thinks of these things? I dunno. I dunno.
The girls and I continue down the pedestrian mall...the girls and I...we we come across this performer...a "busker" they call them here in Colorado...and he's setting up to do his act and I glance at him and I'm like..."I know that guy" And the girls aren't so sure.
"How do you know him?" Jennifer challenges. And I think about this for a second. At first, I'm not 100% certain how I know him...only that I do. But of course, the challenge resonates with me. The insolence of youth. They're not sure that I'm right. Or that I'm sane. They question me. They're testing for chinks in the armor. Is the old man still sane, or is he off his rocking pig?
I've been walking this planet for a long time now. 44 years for those of you playing the home game. And these girls, they're looking up at me, all eyes and teeth and skinny jeans. They want something.
The look at me, uncertain. I am unkempt, at best. Unshaven. Gray stubble across the face. A shock of hair like a drug addled hippie on the run. In truth, I look like a homeless person with a nice camera. To say that I look 'disheveled', would be a generous complement. Gracious.
"I used to do a show in Jackson Square in New Orleans. He was a performer there. I met him along time ago...20 or 30 years ago. I helped him while he was learning to ride a unicycle in Audubon Park."
"What's his name?" They twitter. These girls, twittering like finches in the bush...nipping at my heels like a dog herding sheep. They can't be dissuaded. Can't be put asunder.
"I dunno. I don't remember his name. This was a long time ago. I met him in the Spring on 1985. That would have been about 26 years ago. We weren't great friends, but I remember him. He knew somehow that I was a Gemini. He was dead right on that. He called it right away. Something I said and he knew I was a Gemini. I've never had anyone else get that right."
So this guy begins his show and we watch him for a bit. He produces an enormous yellow plastic chain and slowly shapes it into a map of the United States. All the while, he's asking people..."Who here is from out of town? What's your zip code?" And from the zip code, he tells them what town they live in. What restaurant they like to eat at. Now, the girls are not impressed by this. But they don't realize there are 48,000 zip codes in the country. They don't grasp the impossibility of what he's doing.
What was my zip code growing up? What was it? 39654. I raise my hand and tell him my zip code...He can't quite get it...He's close...He mentions Brookhaven and Osyka, both very close to my home town. He couldn't ever get the name of my town, but I was impressed. He got quite close.
"Does everyone see this hat? Does anyone know what it's for? My name's David Rosdeitcher. If you liked the show, please show your support."
He ends his show and I give the girls some money for the hat and they put it in. They delight in this. This learning. This ritual. This new understanding.
Of course, the girls still on the fence. On the fence between childhood and adolesence. Abou whether or not I really could know him, or whether I'm a doddering old fool.
So after a minute or so, I approach him and I ask him, "Did you use to live in New Orleans?"
He pulls up short. Taken aback. That would have been a long time ago. The years are pulled back from him slowly. Layer upon layer. That's going way back. He'd not expected this question.
"Did you use to do a show in Jackson Square?"
We were just kids then. 18 and stupid and spilled in the beautiful New Orleans spring so long ago. So very far back then. So hard to recall the warm spring mornings in the park, beneath the crepe myrtles. With sunlight playing in the fountains. Surrounded by wrought iron gates and warm welcoming benches, long before they welded steel arms across their length, rendering them useless for sleeping.
"I did. Yes. A long time ago, I did. Yes."
"In the Spring of '85?"
"Yeah. That's right. How'd you know?"
He looks at me now the way I looked at him then, when he somehow knew I was a Gemini. Something people don't know. Something I don't tell people, mainly because I think it's all hogwash.
"My name's Rob. I used to help you with your show in Jackson Square. We used to juggle together in Audubon Park...when you were learning to ride the 6' unicycle."
He squinted at me and tried to image what I would have looked like back then. But it was too much. A bridge too far. He didn't remember me.
But I'm not offended by this. We weren't great friends. Acquaintances, mainly. I'm not sure how I remembered him to be honest. His face hasn't changed a bit since I saw him 26 years ago. That's the only reason I recognized him.
And the wisdom of the aged prevailed over the insolence of youth, but they're always there. Questioning the precepts. Nipping at our heels. As well they should be.
Posted by Rob Kiser on March 13, 2011 at 2:10 PM
Comments
Those were the days, my friend, those were the days.........a lovely visit.
Posted by: sl on March 13, 2011 at 9:32 PM