• Maybe I am Dead Wrong

    Maybe I am Dead Wrong

    What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

    Long Read

    But I am terrified, or intensely curious of death. Sometimes I write about it, occasionally I make fun of it.


    Dead – A Memoir

    I knew it was coming as I had been sick for an eternity. It was not like being sick was all that bad. Well, there were times it was dark and gloomy and the march to destiny was a death march. It was like some of the runs I used to do. I would spend all the time finding my way back to the main trail. The beauty of being lost is the rush of discovering where you are when you we are not sure where you were going. It is not like yesterday’s matter anymore.

    While I can reflect on this, it is a mystery to me and a mystery no one will ever solve. Wars were fought over this, many lives lost, over nothing. One day they will figure out who murdered me. Why I can reflect that is my little secret.

    While heading toward the mailbox, I waved to our neighbor as she awkwardly pulled out of her driveway. My former world suddenly went black, as the mailbox remained ajar flapping in the breeze. And for the life of me, I cannot figure out why somebody would kill me. But they did. And I am going to figure out why they killed me if it is the last thing I do. Sorry, for the bad choice in words at my expense.

    I am a little bit grumpy right now, as I did not expect things to turn out this way. I was never much of a religious person. I thought the concept of heaven and hell absurd. I thought that with absolute holy conviction. And here I sit in eternity proven wrong. There is a heaven and that pisses me off at this moment. There were no pearly gates, or judgment days. The entrance to heaven felt more like the finishing chute at a major marathon. Volunteers gave me water, a space blanket and a hearty high five for finishing. One volunteer looked vaguely like a gal I used to know. She gave me a crooked smile as I walked away. For a splendid second, I felt like I was walking on clouds expecting the endorphins to kick in. They never did. My legs felt dead, especially my hamstrings. They have always been my achilles heel. A beagle nudged my calves as her leash hung from her mouth, I gently led her, of course with her nose to the clouds, in the direction everybody was heading.

    I really needed the endorphin rush as the garden of Eden was not exactly heaven on earth. It is quite possible I may have entered through the wrong door. I had no way of knowing because I was wandering around eternity in a space blanket. And to put it bluntly, I was thankful for the space blanket because that is what happens after you have run a long way. That is, you get a spine-chilling chill. Usually, endorphins take care of this type of thing. The laws of thermodynamics have no real foothold in Eternity. One day, I hope to change that. I really needed a beer.

    I followed a lush path through an ancient growth forest full of 800-year-old redwoods that surrounded a trailer park of sorts. The trees intrigued me as they seemed to silently try to touch the sky. Then again, I realized there was no real sky. The sky was light blue and hypothetical in and around the horizon. It felt earth-like. When I looked straight up at the sky it was a deep azure blue as the constellations appeared one star at a time. You could not beat the unobstructed view of the heavens, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the paradoxes.

    Much to my mortal surprise, after enjoying the heavenly view I received a gentle tap on the shoulder. Obviously startled, I was new here and assumed this being was simply seeking conversation. In a former life, I always loved talking to strangers. In retrospect, what really perplexed me was my connection back to a bygone era where I was truly alive. Well, that was all of four hours ago. But who really knows as our brains have so much electrical energy after death that this could be 500 years into the future. And I still was using it. I am just a lost soul living in a…I have no idea why that song popped in my head.

    “Hello, my name is John”

    “John 14:1-3 even says that Jesus is in heaven preparing a place for us to live. In heaven, those saved by God will have new bodies without the curse of sin!”

    “Dear John, I thought I broke up with you a long time ago.”

    He did not get the inference.

    At this point I realized I was naked or I felt naked. My space blanket was gone. I honestly did not care all that much as I felt drugged. I felt like I was dying.

    Despite my nakedness, I still somehow snuck an ounce past whoever was staffing the pearly gates. I distinctly remember that crooked smile. Yes, I had brought with me an ounce of dignity. And then I found a joint behind my ear. I have no idea how it got there or if it is of use where I am now. I am honestly having a tough time figuring out where exactly I am. This feels like a mid-life crisis of sorts. I realize it is a tough time to have one. I really need to know how I got here.

    There I stood next to a clear stream that was rushing off a snowmelt from above. I sat and stared into the water, suddenly irritated. I instantly yearned to go back to where we all belong. I could taste the ocean on my skin as I exhaled.

    And where exactly was John as I was suddenly brought back to earth. I stood corrected and I returned to reality. I was having a challenging time figuring out what I was really thinking. I was just trying to survive the serendipity here the inadequacies of spoken language, even within one’s head, took on a unique perspective. It was a living hell of sorts.

    “Isn’t this place just heaven?” came a voice from right over the right shoulder.

    “Hey there John,” I replied without looking over my shoulder.

    Suddenly there was a whisper in my ear, and it certainly was not John.

    “Hola, mi nombre es Heidi” came from a voice easily understood in all languages.

    I thought to myself, A German girl speaking to me in Spanish is far more than what I expected from heaven. Or I had taken the wrong door. What bothered me is that I at once understood the nuance. I turned around slowly and gave a side eyed glance toward where the whisper came. And there she stood in all her complexity wearing a soccer kit from the Canadian Women’s team heading to the World Cup.

    “Hello, I am Heidi. said the gal in a Canadian Soccer Kit.

    I wanted to ask her if she knew Christine Sinclair, still I kept my cool. I soon learned she worked the shift right after John.

    The gal in a Canadian Soccer kit asked me if I thought this place felt like heaven. She was not wearing an entire soccer kit, rather a jersey and a scarf. He remembered how excited he was about the Women’s World Cup. He rooted for everything Canadian with a little more fervor than most.

    She spoke slowly as another girl softly played dulcimer in rhythm with her voice. A few chickens walked in rhythm with her.

    “You met John already. He walks around in eternity bitter that Heaven is not exactly like he planned. He wanted angels, harps, and clouds. He wanted extra credit because he made a fortune directing chicken commercials. He reasoned that they closed on Sundays. He is another lost soul”

    “I am here to ask you a few questions to figure out your eternity. You come before us with extraordinary credentials. You understand the metaphor in scripture and live your life accordingly. The golden rule is pretty darn simple.”

    “You mean this is the pearly gated exam I thought to be true fiction my entire life?” I asked the gal in the soccer uniform.

    I honestly have no idea how this process works. I just ask the questions here. It is not a bad gig, and you get to meet beings from many different universes.

    Universes. Do you mean Universities?

    No, she replied with a heavenly smirk.

    Interesting. Can I ask you a question?

    You just did.

    Can I. …Never mind. What I really wanted to know is. Am I dead.

    I do not even know if I am dead. It certainly does not feel that way, but something tells me I am.

    “Okay what questions do you have for me? I asked her not really wanting to get on with the ceremony. She ignored me and started talking about the coordination that go into running this thing called eternity. She talked to me about concepts such as capacity and sustainability. She chatted briefly about the earth’s population and its quizzical model for destruction. She told me that was not her planet of origin. I noted her cute use of a tense of language that I never thought would ever exist.

    In the voice of a yoga teacher, she told me about the thousands of religions that inhabited the universe. She found religion to be a curious spot of bother. In this place of eternity, people of a religion made up one percent of the residents in eternity.

    I pondered my countries reluctance to adopt the metric system, and did not give her math much credence, but I knew where she was coming from, well only philosophically.

    The soccer kit seemed so out of place. I just remembered Christine Sinclair played for the University of Portland. I suspected I had to keep really focused. This was the advanced Theology final I never got around to completely study. I never prepared for pearly gates questions. It never mattered all that much to me. That is until it did.

    A gentle wind suddenly picked up from somewhere. It occurred to me that the wind came from below. It was a wind direction I found offsetting. Suddenly Heidi was all business as she slid a pair of sunglasses down her face.

    “What the hell do you need those for?

    “I don’t understand your question, and I need to ask you a few questions.”

    I gave a passive aggressive gasp and asked her to go ahead.

    “So, what brought you here?”

    “God only knows.”

    “Who?” she replied startled.

    “Jesus Christ” I answered as if ingrained.

    “I am new here, stop talking to me in metaphor.”

    We both sat silently and not a word passed between us for hours. She walked away silently in a realm where footsteps could not be heard. She then suddenly turned and sauntered back toward me and gave me a knowing wink. She extended her right hand and put two envelopes in my hand.

    “What is this?” I meekly asked.

    “It is your mail from your mailbox, do you remember you went out to get the mail?”

     

     

     

     

  • This

    This

    What do you complain about the most?

    To complain about a government that is not working, that is cruel, corrupt and and evil is an act of patriotism.

    K. Mark Schofer

  • Library

    Library

    I walk the halls of the library
    not needing a Dewey Decimal system
    as
    there are books of painting
    and some in languages other than mine

    the quiet is deafening
    it’s a perfect design

    lots of stories, fiction
    all the planets align

    when I go to the library
    in an imperfect world
    every thing is fine

    next time I’ll get a
    book of poems but I decline
    about poetry and how
    to write the next line.
  • Trail Blazing

    Trail Blazing

    What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

    I can barely work my television, so I don’t watch much sports anymore. I do attend soccer games often in both the United States and in Europe when possible.

    Frankfurt

    This was my last trip to Portland Trailblazers game.

    And Nothing Happens

    We headed into town on a blustery rainy December evening. My wife and I were semi excited to watch a Trail Blazers basketball game. One of our first dates was a Blazers game with courtside tickets. We were in the nosebleeds tonight. We decided to go “Fire on The Mountain” for chicken wings and a beer. We do love this place because they have delicious vegan chicken wings. For the uninitiated, you heard that right, vegan chickenn wings. another reason for going with her was the location. The restaurant was on a train line only a few stops from the basketball game. It is nice to avoid parking and save the money.  We do like taking mass transit. It is a convenient gateway to the city.

    When we got there, I looked in the windows, and the restaurant sat filled with energy and plenty of Blazer’s attire. It seemed like we were not the only ones with this idea. Jenna parked the car, and I went in and ordered. I ordered 12 vegan wings, some fries, and a side salad my wife had suggested. I also added a cider. Then I turned around. And miraculously a table opened. It was the table for four, but I grabbed it.

    It is not my forte, but I was trying to get my wife’s order correct and grab a table at the same time and I am not particularly great at multitasking. The group behind us at once chimed in asking if we could share a table with them.

    My wife walked in and soon after chimed in “That would be great.”

    This may sound like a mundane set of interactions yet there were underlying nuances. It was an extremely cold rainy day at the end of a month of hyperbolic atmospheric rivers. Usually, this restaurant had outdoor seating, reducing the seating capacity considerably. We awkwardly decided our seating with this little conflict. I wanted to sit across from my wife. It was date night.

    We sat down at our table comfortably, and we were aware we wanted to catch the 6:23 train into town.

    I believe the party of three at the table introduced themselves before we did. I apologize as I don’t remember their names. There was an accident lawyer from Woodland, and I believe a young man who was his son. The third was another man from Ellesbugh in the the western part of the state. We exchanged pleasantries and we told them about the basketball game. The service tonight was taking longer than usual which was an underlying spot of bother. Eventually my cider arrived and their drinks as well.

    Then they described how they happened to be eating at a chicken wing place on Interstate Avenue on a rainy cold Monday evening. They told us they were in town to go duck hunting, and it took them a long time to bag their limit. Here I sat, the staunch vegan who even refused to fire a gun as a kid. I sat and listened patiently to them, talking about the thrill of pulling a trigger, and having a bird fall from the sky. And one of them talked about the violence in Portland that they saw on television. There was no violence in Portland but in their minds, it was everywhere. But still here they sat in Portland eating their chicken wings. Next to me sat my wife who did not want me to start into it. She is mostly vegan but at time strays. You know the old saying, how do you know someone is vegan? Do not worry they will tell you.

    On the other side of the table, the hunters once again expressed their fear of the violence in Portland. Portland is not a war zone even though Fox News informs people differently. I did not hear the comment and may have said something if I did. They talked about their commute and the one guy talked about being a travel lawyer in Longview. The youngest spoke of football players I never heard of. They ate their chicken wings, and we had our vegan wings. We then shook hands and headed toward the train station. I gave him directions for the quickest way to get back on the interstate. They seeed satiated and happy. We were happy to share a table, a few stories and nothing happened.