Time Spent in Standby Line
Living on an island in New England has some advantages. Having to get out of bed at four- fifteen on a December morning is not one of them. Yet today, my resistance to the dark morning wasn’t there. The beautiful oriental tones of my cell phone-alarm woke me from a dream of rich, textured images of clear water. A wholesome family scene around this water hole inspired me to dress quickly and hurray out the door. I also recalled another of the night's dreams where I never seem to get where I’m going and I change directions constantly and there is a woman looking a little like my first wife.....
On top of this great awakening, I managed to procure first-place in the stand-by-line at the Steamship Authority terminal. Sacrificing sleep for the satisfaction of knowing I would get on the boat without a reservation made it all worth it. As I sat in the darkness awaiting my prize of driving on the first boat of the day, memories of my childhood neighborhood came vividly to my frontal lobe.
There was Mrs. Taylor from across the street, to the right of our house with her below-the-knee cotton dress, a little crumpled. Her lipstick was red as the fifties fashion dictated and of course she was smiling and holding her cup of coffee.
Then there was Mrs Campbell, one half of the elderly couple from directly across the street, swept her doorstep and looked nervously around as if expecting something and Bill her husband in his wife beater undershirt, tummy protruding, inspecting his car inside his immaculate garage.
Bunky, a small, cranky poodle barked next door to our left as per usual. Being tied up all day couldn’t have been satisfying. Didn’t anybody ever walk that dog? And I started a lifelong obsession two doors to the left by fantasizing about Joan Fee, the girl I couldn't have. Don’t get me wrong, I am not still obsessed with Joan; however I still obsess about the women who are not available or perhaps the woman whose beauty I'm afraid of..
Beside Mrs. Campbell's house, and across from us, were the Godines, a dentist, his wife and two children; Julie and Anthony. After about the age of 13, due to my hockey schedule, I frequently stayed a night or two at the family home while the rest of my family was north skiing for the weekend. Mrs. Godine, I imagined to be my mother's spy and I was convinced she peered out from behind her curtains and she could see right through even our drawn curtains with those x-ray eyes of hers. Needless to say I was a good boy till about the age of 17 after which I had a few small get togethers where a few of us played poker and drank beers..
Biking around the neighborhood seeing long tire skid-marks left by my friend David Goldman, that I had to better by skidding my back tire longer. Cruising, waiting for something to happen, no homework, no deadlines.
As a private school boy, my holidays were slightly different and longer than the public school just down the street. I loved to ride my bike by the school yard, where I used to go to Kindergarten, as school started or recess ended, I'd watch as the kids line up and file back into school as I had the freedom to ride away un tethered. The private school opened me to other neighborhoods upon visiting the friends in my class. The city started to grow in my mind and my awareness took off
The private school; Selwyn House, evolved from the British system best known today from Hogwarts in Harry Potter; our school was divided through the house system; Wanstall, Speirs, McCauley and Lucas. These houses competed by amassing points through; competition,sports academics and behavior. There were bi-weekly academic rankings through rigorous testing, and detention after school with written impositions counted against each house.
We had a dress code at Selwyn, gray flannel trousers and shorts with knee socks, black blazers bordered in yellow for the junior school and un bordered for the rest of the school, white shirts with a yellow and black striped tie, black tie shoes, and all sorts of warm clothes for the winter. Little corporate angels ready to follow in daddy’s footsteps right to the top of the heap! And many of my friends did just that...same dress code, haircut, friends and residence right around the corner from their old home or school.
That was our street, minus a few less interesting players. Traveling the old neighborhood in my mind this morning gave way to appreciation of safe, fearless, simpler times.
A gloved hand waves me forward. I drive triumphantly on the boat, through the warm memories and dark morning.
Erik Iversen was Certified in Reflexology 1981, Hellerwork Structural Integration 1986, and 5Rhythm movement 1988. He has been maintaining a weekly one on one Bodywork practice in Montreal, Martha's Vineyard and New York City, since 1986. He also teaches 5Rhythm workshops to adults and to teenagers. Erik can be reached at erikiversen@moceanmedia.com.
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