A Day At The Beach

Sometime in 2001

Him: Look at you, waving at that helicopter as if they can see you!

Her: They came out of nowhere--I was just letting them know that I can see them.

Him: To them you look like a drop of rain in an Ocean…do you mind if I ask why you are just sitting in your car, why you don’t step out and walk down to the beach. It’s a beautiful day!

Her: Not feeling well.

Him: Why? You don’t look like there is anything wrong with you.

(Protracted silence)

Him: What exactly is wrong with you?

Her: I had a toxic exposure… I have a headache…they say it’s asthma…it feels more like seizures. (With every packet of information she is forced to relay her agitation grows more evident; she had come here to withdraw and not have to deal with people only to find this random passerby with nothing better to do but engage in conversation).

Him: Oh…I see…where was the explosion?

Her: There was no explosion, just a slow chronic buildup of toxins in a tight building where I work…

Him: Yes, but when was the explosion? There is usually an explosion in these cases (he says pensively).

Her: (slowly shaking her head No).

Him: Where do you work?

Her: Government office.

Him: (Nods knowingly) I see--Government! Do you see that building there? I think that it is a government building (he casually points to a lot across the street)

Her: There is no building there…(the irregular knoll didn’t appear to be large enough for a 2-bedroom home let alone a government building and the strictly residential neighborhood was far too opulent).

Him: Sure there is, don’t you see the drive way; the access road around the back?

Her: Excuse me, I am going to open the car door now and step out. He backs up to allow the door clearance.

Her: (Looks at the spot he had pointed to and Wonders what he is talking about, clearly there was no building standing there) No, there is no building there that I can see.

Him: Well, perhaps when you come back in a few years…my name is John, by the way, what’s yours?


Him: AXXX?


Her: (Exasperated by now at having to repeat her name 3 times, and wondering how he can know her older sisters’ names) It’s RXXXX.

Him: Oh! RXXXX! (He says while at the same time shifting the expression on his face and his voice to look and sound just like her late father)

Her: It was nice to meet you, John, I think I’ll go down to the beach and catch a prayer.

Him: (He holds out his hand and they shake hands farewell, then he resumes his initial demeanor) Good-bye…for now. (and he winks impishly, so quickly that she doubts seeing him wink).

As John watches her make her way down to the shore and he realizes exactly how she finally got the help she needed, he laughs his head off!

Zits Comic Strip by Jerry Scott & Jim Borgman as it appeared in the June 4, 2010 issue of The Los Angeles Times.

A large building nears final construction on the site in question as of this blog entry date; but somehow I am disinclined to believe the chopper or its occupants had anything to do with my mother.

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