- Huck the Spotless Appaloosa almost killed me the other
day.
-
- He came this close to punching a hole in my brain.
-
- I was in the corral with him and His Gal Rosie, bringing
them each a bucket of mash. Rosie's daily mash is especially important.
It contains the antibiotic we're using to clear up the infected wound on
her leg and keep her alive.
-
- As usual, Huck met me at the gate. Not as usual, so did
a big, buzzing, spring wasp. The wasps here on The Mountain seldom sting,
but as this one buzzed around the gatepost I heard the clear, unmistakable
voice of the Wind from the Southwest:
-
- "Watch out for this one," the Wind said. "This
one's trouble."
-
- The last time something or someone said to me, "This
one's trouble," was almost 30 years ago. Then the words were uttered
by a friend about a woman I was seeing, and the friend was right. I ignored
him, as most of us do when someone tells us something we don't want to
hear and, sure enough, my relationship with her just about ruined a large
part of my life.
-
- So this time, when something as awesomely powerful as
that force I think of as The Wind of Mystery said, "Watch out,"
I should've listened. Still, I chose not to. "C'mon, it's just a wasp.
What's the big deal?"
-
- The big deal turned out to be that as I passed behind
Huck after putting his bucket down for him, the wasp stung my (almost-Clydesdale-size)
brother, and he leapt up off the ground, body twisted, and kicked out with
both hind legs.
-
- Missed my head by no more than six inches, and through
no effort of my own.
-
- I was just standing there.
-
- If anyone had been there watching, I probably would've
looked pretty cool. Confident. Unfazed, that kind of thing.
-
- The truth is, I had no idea what was happening until
it was over, with Huck still bucking as he moved farther away. I saw the
whole thing out of the corner of my eye but didn't put it together with
a need to save myself until it was too late.
-
- "So much for listening to that 'still, small voice,'"
I said.
-
- "You'll hear it again," the Wind said. "You're
always wanting to know the secrets of life. How's this one? Life is a baseball
game where you're always at bat. The pitches keep coming at you until it
all ends."
-
- And those are the words that got me thinking.
-
- "Until it all ends." When does it end? What
makes it end? Why didn't Huck's back hooves connect with my skull? Why
wasn't it over for me right then and there? Why was I still on the ground,
exasperated with myself, instead of floating in the air toward a tunnel
of golden light - exasperated with myself?
-
- Standing there, I thought about other near misses.
-
- The time when the car I was driving spun out on the highway,
going directly into the very crowded opposing lane of traffic and then,
miraculously, returning to the right lane, facing the right direction,
and ready to go.
-
- The time I stood at the bow of a ferry boat trying to
land on the Greek island of Hydra in the middle of a raging storm. A huge
wave came up along the starboard side and tossed the boat onto its side
in the water. The wave started to engulf me - and then was gone, and we
were horizontal again, slipping into port while those gathered there gaped
and cheered at our survival.
-
- The time Gwen the Beautiful and I flew into the airport
in Reno, Nev. As our plane landed, it was picked up by the wind, and pushed
- well, our experience was that it was pushed - right back up into the
air, to circle and land again, safely. But the friend who was picking us
up was amazed because the landing field suddenly was littered with debris
- from a plane that "hadn't crashed."
-
- And on, and on.
-
- A myriad of times this "baseball game" could've
ended but went into extra innings instead. With no help from me.
-
- Extra time.
-
- Extra lives.
-
- Do-overs.
-
- I called out to the Wind. "Does everyone get these
chances?"
-
- The Wind laughed, as it often does when we speak.
-
- "Everything gets them. Usually they don't know it."
-
- "Why not?"
-
- The Wind stopped, like a shrug. "Just one of the
rules of the game."
-
-
- Copyright C 2008 by Larry Brody. All rights reserved.
-
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE! FROM PARADISE!
appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written thousands of
hours of network television, and is the author of "Television Writing
from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at <mailto:LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org>LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
Brody, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion
County, Arkansas. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise
reside in his imagination.
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