Chapter 1: The Lone Paddle Boarder
The lone paddle boarder moves into the early morning waves cutting a path along the smooth top and the gently rolling swells of the New Brighton Beach Cove. She ducks her head down, right ear next to the board, listening to the gentle splash. She will cover her run, a two-mile circuit, during the early morning hour. A quiet communion: The paddle boarder, the board, the bay and the momentary sensual interaction with nature; a sea lion bark, a brush of a long kelp frond, two albatrosses skimming across the bald sea.
She had taken the time to acquaint herself with all of the companions that grace her path; this sojourn, this opportunity, a most wonderful way to leave problems in the bay. The gentle surf has a way of pulling out even the most daunting of problems.
Returning to her flatbed truck, refreshed, skin a bit more ruddied, mind clear, body at the ready for that decision; that all-encompassing decision. Stewart must go. No, not just go. His abilities to infect other fifty plus year old women must be eliminated through a complete social emasculation. A slight shiver grips as the terry cloth towel provides some comfort against the early morning breeze.
Chapter 2: Soquel
Mary Beth woke up early. She looked over at the clock and saw the hands beginning to yawn at the morning still a ways off. Three A.M. was fine with her and had been fine with the Captain as this was a favorite time for them to roll over and cuddle under the comforter. But the Captain was gone. He had been gone for a long time. Still the comforter was there and rolling up in it was a good excuse to remember.
The window offered a view of Orion’s Belt and a splash of other stars punctuating the darkness; hers and the night sky. So too the wonderful purifying sounds of the surf, rolling in with an occasional crash on Bird Rock. There… the unmistakable sounds of the California Harbor Seals, barking out their presence as territories were staked out. Does it get any better, she thought. Well maybe the coffee would continue this buzz. But not now. Now was the time to be quiet and pay attention to those sounds of the night and be at peace.
A tear was likely to form; A solitary tear; Enough to christen the moment. No, it doesn’t get any better. Coffee would be ready now at 4:10. It was calling to her. The surf and the barking seals were calling. Time to break for the day.
The regimen for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was the same. A light breakfast of juice, toast and of course the healing coffee; then pack up the beach items on the flatbed truck; drive the ten minutes to the cove; walk the paddle board down the four long flights of stairs to the beach; stretching exercises; and then into the surf for the paddle board circuit ride. Mary Beth always managed to get to the parking lot of the cove just as the Ranger, Tom Crugger, was opening the gate at 5:00 a.m. He knew Mary Beth would be there, the only one. He also knew that she would have a thermos of some exotic blend of coffee to share. Later, Tom would enjoy sitting back in his chair in the ranger’s office and watch Mary Beth descend the stairs with her ten-foot paddle-board sipping his gifted blend of exotic swirling eddies.
Their small talk had grown quite a bit over the past two years. They played this game where Tom would guess the variety of coffee before Mary Beth was finished with her run. He would have three guesses. The only prize was the contentment in developing a more discriminating pallet. Mary Beth thought this was just fine for after all, the Captain had given her the same gift and this was an opportunity to continue to share.
After her run, Tom barked out:
“Sumatra, dark dark roasted Nicaraguan, or Columbia Especial.”
“Very good, it was Sumatra.”
Mary Beth dried her wavy hair and thought how much he had improved his taste discrimination. At the beginning Peabody, French roast, or Kona had all been the same to Tom. There was something different but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. It did not help much that when she first met Tom, he was doctoring up his coffee with three sugars and enough powdered something to almost make the stir stick stand up. Tom now drinks his coffee black. He enjoys the full experience of nose, taste, the warmth, and of course the presence of Mary Beth. She shared:
“On my way over here this morning I saw the personification of pride. A dog picked up the road kill celebrating a good catch with his proud pace through the neighborhood. Tom did you know that the dog’s nose is at least forty times as powerful as ours. See you later.”
This was just like Mary Beth to pose an interesting tidbit and then leave. Well at least there was the makings of a dialog. Tom was forty-five and Mary Beth was fifty-eight but their age difference seemed to just heighten the intrigue and interest from both sides. Tom had been a career Marine having put in his twenty and had now retired to this State Ranger gig. Tom had never been married since he had seen far too many disastrous relationships. The quick fling; the quick pregnancy; the all to quick wedding; and the final realization that neither of the young lovers even knew the other. And of course, there was always the risk of serious injury or death. Both of Tom's parents had died while he was in college. He had left the grind of his engineering degree after four years and joined the Marines. So there was no one back home to run to. Tom had many friendships and was always asked to come home with one of his buddies to enjoy a bit of home cooking and some sightseeing. It took Tom only a few of these visits to realize that his buddies were using him as a crutch to avoid any serious get-to-know their spouse. While the Navy Chaplain was busy trying to patch up failing marriages, it was somewhat unique for the Chaplain to meet with Tom and try to encourage him into some loving relationship. Why Chaplain Willy Barnes had even tried twice to hook Tom up with a nice girl from the neighboring town that was wholesome and worthy. This sounded a bit too much like what mom used to say and do. Tom avoided these blind dates and was more than content to exercise his interests in all kinds of music and the finishing up of his engineering degree. During a semester of independent study, Tom scabbed together some of the thrown away electronic gear and made a Moog synthesizer. This endeared Tom even more to his buddies as he self-taught himself to play music and was more than willing to share his new found joy with anyone.
Mary Beth waved from her flatbed truck as Tom considered his next move to give their relationship a much-needed kick. But not today as Tom returned to the Ranger Shack and savored the last of his coffee.
This was Wednesday and so in the afternoon Mary Beth would go to the Farmer’s Market. This was the central place for the entire town where you could just about see everyone and you would soon know why some regulars are not present. Mary Beth would usually have some recipe in mind for the evening and would carefully gather the key ingredients for perhaps a vegetable quiche or a rich minestrone. There were the regular businesses such as Maries Florist here to sell out most of Suzanne’s inventory before going to the flower market at 3:00 a.m. the next morning to restock. Roy, the owner of Roy’s Barbershop, would close down his business for the afternoon and his Barbershop Quartet would be there to entertain. There were many small businesses that would only come out during this time. These included the many antique micro dealers who would scavenge the back country for treasures sure to grace the city folk’s homes and businesses. The Scouts from Troop 1704 would be here selling their Dutch oven Chili in a Basket. Picture a half Kaiser roll cored out filled with a ladle of hot chili with all of the toppings, sold for $2. Mary Beth’s friend Rick Lupert, the Spray Can Artist, was usually here and always brought out a large crowd.
Rick and Mary Beth’s friendship developed over a long time before he gained his popularity. Mary Beth would sit cross legged and take pictures of the spray can art as it was being crafted. Her constant barrage of questions was welcoming to Rick and he was more than happy to sell her not only his Farmer’s Market “commercial” works but several of his more passionate traditional art works. Mary Beth was happy to support this wonderful artist and continued to make sure he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be recognized properly by the larger community. Mary Beth even suggested a subject for Rick to create: ‘Two Red Dolphins in the Reddest of Sunsets’. Rick painted the piece on the spot and gave it to Mary Beth as a gift.
Rick was smiling now as he had a long line of people waiting to snatch up a Rick Lupert “original” which he would craft in only eight minutes. Rick had caught the eye of the Northern California Weekly, and his spread of three colorful pages of his spray can art and a few from his secret collection of traditional art, sprung him to the full attention of all the locals and the many art conscious folks from all around. All of Rick’s works had a central point of reference where your eyes would naturally drift. This was the point of departure in his two art forms. The Spray Can art focused on the local scenes from Soquel including the ocean and the critters which were common to the area including man. Rick’s more traditional art had an entirely different overall feeling. There was a sense of Pollack, Stieglitz, and the cubists. There was a disconnection with the subject as if it was just there drifting in the space of the mind. As a result of the publication Rick was offered a show at the local Evan’s Gallery for Fine Art, and sold about eighty percent of his traditional works and all of his spray can works. He had set prices on his traditional works at $5,000 thinking well maybe he would sell a couple. Well he sold thirty-two of his works and netted a very comfortable $90,000. His acrylic traditional works were painted on a variety of surfaces including wallboard, plywood, cardboard, and pieces of drift wood. The long line was a testimony to his continued importance in the Northern California art scene. Each of them hoping to snatch up an $80 original Rick Lupert spay can work. Mary Beth had a contented smile over Rick’s success.
Wednesday evenings after the Farmer’s Market closed down would find many of the patrons and vendors making their way over the two blocks, past the closed down Soquel Movie Theatre, to the Golden Throat Pub to listen to some soothing Jazz. This was indeed a most wonderful way to close down the day.