le monstre

okay, so mrs. crashco is irritated with me since i pointed out to her irrefutably that we are now middle aged. well, babycakes, when you can point to events in your adult life as happening twenty years ago, you are middle aged, at least.

i started going to the international fireworks competition at la ronde in, what? 1988? '89? anyway, it was a while ago, back when it was "l'international benson & hedges". now the prime sponsor is lotto-quebec, which only makes me feel marginally better, staring at the sign across the lake.

i have never in my life purchased a lottery ticket. i have been given a couple of scratch-offs, some of them even have been small winners, but i've not redeemed them. it seems to me that lotteries are nothing more than a tax on stupid people and i'm morally opposed. maybe i should be morally opposed to more important things, but i will never forget the day i was standing in the convenience store near exit 16 in winooski and this woman came in with three kids hanging off of her, begging for something to eat and it was the kind of begging where you realize that these children are no strangers to hunger.

so anyway, she says to the clerk that she'll have the usual. the clerk knows without being told that this is a carton of marlboros and fifty dollars in lottery tickets. one of the tickets was a $500 winner and they were all so happy but i couldn't help thinking that if you buy that many lottery tickets and a freakin' CARTON of marlboros every friday five hundred dollars is a pretty poor return.

so anyway. i think i've just gone on a rant that's pretty far off-topic, even for me.

so i used to go to the fireworks twice a week at one point in my misspent youth; i've watched them from inside la ronde with gen-you-wine tickets, but back in the day we sat on the hill outside, where you can't actually see the low elements, or from the opposite bank of the river (you also can't see the low elements, but you smell the gunpowder plenty strong) and my favorite place was out on the pont j-c, almost directly opposite the paid seating. you're much higher up and you see it backward, but it's a pretty good view and you can see everything. if you plan to get a good view from the bridge, you should plan to be there around 1930h, because the bridge fills pretty fast. and bring your walkman, because the fireworks are set to music and they broadcast the music on one of the radio stations and it's pretty fabulous.

i used to go on wednesdays and on saturdays all through the summer and i'd park on the island and walk up the stairs in that great art-deco tower and find my place out on the bridge before the crowd came.

i knew the competition rules and became pretty good at picking the winners. one year i was out on the bridge for the night the US was presenting. there were ten thousand of us up on that bridge and who knows how many more all around the city and the program was entirely set to the music of aaron copland. to the music of appalachian spring we saw shells that exploded with leaf green and sky blue. there's a part in the music where a two-note figure is carried down through the brass section to one long note in the tuba and for this they sent up rockets one to a note, in pairs, progressively lower down and when that tuba note came red fire spread all across the pond and for just one moment on that bridge i could feel ten thousand people all suck in a breath at the same time.

and they ended up with a gold willow shell bursting on beats one and three for the entire end of the piece and the effect was so stunning that what followed was complete and utter silence for longer than one might think possible.

the australians that year managed a second place finish with what in another year might have won them gold. the australians are especially good at novelty shells; ones that explode into spirals or happy faces or stars and such.

but no matter where you watch from, you're going to be caught in the monumental traffic jam that follows. you can get all het up about it or you can relax and have a good time, but you're not getting off the island until well after midnight.

i used to pack quite the little picnic; caviar and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. other little treats.

but i can't keep up that kind of schedule anymore. for one thing, i have a standing date on wednesdays. so these days i try to make it once a year. since i'm only going once, i spring for tickets in the silver section, which is where the good seats are. you can pay ten dollars more for stupid perks in the gold section, but you can't see anything from over there anyway and you might as well stand on the bridge. maybe the point of being in the gold section is to be seen, but if you're that special they have better seats for you near the judges anyway. just behind the silver section.

i rest my case.

it turns out that rumblestrip has never been.

"well, we must go.", i declare. turns out between this and that and the other, the only night she has available is the final night, when instead of a competitor's presentation, they announce the results and a team hired by la ronde presents a show. it's never as good as if they're an entrant, but the hired team this year is panzera SAS and i've seen them when they're competing and they're very good.

i have a hunch it will be better than whatever rumblestrip has ever seen anyway.

and i have an opportunity to pack a picnic. i LOVE to pack a picnic. mine is a cooler of wonders. and lately there's a lot i owe to rumblestrip, so the theme of the day kind of becomes "let's spoil rumblestrip a little and have a really good time".

i'm trying to get to bed by ten on friday, but i know it just isn't going to happen because it's ten o'clock and i'm frantically trying to process my PQs, including one run on the route to montreal, which is a feature that uses google earth and is new, so i don't quite know how to work it yet. but it's very cool.

and the phone rings. it is Flyingfisher, who is probably one of only three people in the world i would have been willing to talk to at that moment, but much as i miss her, i'm kind of distracted by the running and processing of the PQs and the fact that morning will come roaring up early.

the idea is to be on the road at seven, because we thought it would be good to spend the day in the city (we both lovemontreal; what's there not to love?), maybe geocaching, maybe doing something else. it doesn't matter. it's all going to be good.

i've been having some problems getting up in the morning, so the plan is that Rumblestrip will come to my house and tear me out of bed and put me in the car, which will already be packed.

but the night is kind of warm, so i don't want to pre-pack the cooler. i actually get up at 0630h to do that, and i also have some breakfast. or at least leftovers from dinner, because if there's one thing i know, it's that anything that's good enough to have for dinner is good enough to have for breakfast.

we think that probably after getting home prettty late, we will not be up to waking for a nine o'clock service (summer schedule) at richmond, where we are both members. it's been my habit when i am on the road to go to church wherever i happen to be. you have maybe heard me say this before, but i am certain that God is not at all fussy about place or denomination; what is important is that you come to be in attendance among the Living Body of Christ. so on weekends when i have sunday bike races, i find a saturday Mass near where i am and that's just fine. i stand out pretty clearly as not catholic, but they take you pretty much how you are and for the most part people are very kind and welcoming.

so our plan is to find a saturday Mass near the city, preferably one in an english-speaking parish. we both have some command of french, but i'm still kind of out of my element at Mass, and i need those audible cues to keep up with the service.

and in an entire morning of geocaching, we realize that we have not seen a church since we passed through the towns on route 133, pretty early in the trip. we start looking for churches, but then rumblestrip (who i think is smarter than i am) gets the brilliant idea to find a phone book and she starts to call around to parishes that have english sounding names and we find one in brossard with a five o'clock Mass. so we cache a little more and then we find our way (hooray for mapping software and GPS) to the church. we're a little early, which gives us time to change. hey, we race mountain bikes, so one thing we have learned (or i have learned and rumblestrip, who is still new to it, is learning) is that the world is our locker room, and that with the aid of a changing skirt, one can wash up and change for almost any occasion if only one has a parking space.

but then it's very close to five and no one else is arriving. blast. on the SUMMER SCHEDULE (which is not posted) there is no five o'clock Mass.

i am at a loss. i can't face trying to get to an early service in richmond.

but rumblestrip is smart. she starts calling other churches, looking for one with a five-thirty Mass and she finds one where a LIVE PERSON confirms this fact by phone, but it's in longueuil, so we'll have to book. we make not one but two wrong turns (one to each of our fault) and THEN i make an error in setting the route in the navigational software and we end up in the wrong place but in sight of the steeple but just too late to make Mass.

but, see, rumblestrip is not only smart, but she has a cool head and can think in a pinch. and she thinks that maybe what we should be doing is calling churches NEAR HOME to find a service that starts later in the morning.

and that's where i get the brilliant idea: let's drive around a little and see if we can't pirate an open network. we find an open network. it's only one bar, but for some reason it connects right up and stays connected. i take a moment to answer my email, in which is a note from cornflakes, who are trying to solve my newly reactivated cache, the shrew, untamed. somebody last summer called me a shrew and this was my preferred vengeance.

let it be a lesson to you. do not cross me; i will only turn it into a puzzle to torment innocent people and then make oblique references to you while i giggle.

so anyway, i got on the web and we searched just about every church in the burlingtoareaan and we found one with a service that starts at 11:15! i am so happy that i grab rumblestrip's head in both my hands and kiss the top of it, pulling her for a moment out of her usual vertical position. lucky for me her head is fastened on pretty firmly.

so we go on out to la ronde. we're debating getting on a rollercoaster; we're both a little nervous about it. i have not been on a rollercoaster since the days just before my gallbladder and i parted company, so i have some memory of a nearly constant nausea being uh, somewhat "tickled" by the added spatial chaos of a coaster, but yet i also remember the first time i rode le monstre.

my friend john had taken us up to la ronde to see the fireworks and the rides are included in your ticket. he loves le monstre and he got me to go on it with him. as soon s the car we were in engaged on the track to climb up to the top, i lit into him:

how DARE YOU, i demanded, allow me to get on this thing?!? what were you THINKING?!?

but then we were at the top and all of a sudden i was screaming. and i realized an amazing thing: when you are engaged in a good, well-supported scream, your innards are not free to bounce around in your body cavity in response to your sudden positional changes. in short, i have found the secret to really enjoying the ride.

can we go again?

so rumblestip and i find ourselves walking out toward le monstre, as if it has some gravitational pull. we have not decided that we will ride it. but then we're there, so we get in line. and while we're in line, rumblestrip is a good sport and listens to the story of my sudden parting with my gallbladder, but more importantly, as i go on and on (it is a long, slow line) about my job, which i love as much as i love anything and to which i have not been since i became ill in december. i have not even returned to the building. and i'm afraid to go back. i want it more than anything else, but yet i'm still afraid.

but as i'm talking, i'm remembering all the things i love about the job, and all the things that made me good at it. and i miss it more and more.

and then it's our turn. it's scary, but we are on le monstre. it is sunset and as we climb we can see the lights of the city all around us, and all the boats on the river. it is beautiful and perfect and suddenly our train goes over the top and we are screaming, hurtling through the summer evening and we scream and scream and laugh and we are alive and indestructible and i think of this one, critically important thing:

every year for labor day i go caching in montreal. i go with the crashcos and our habits begin to border on ritual. i am very much looking forward to going again this year.

but you may remember that i've been fighting my own monster: i'm struggling to stay alive. or more precisely, i'm agonizing over whether i can go back to the job i love, or whether i should suicide now, while i still have the chance beforehand.

but i have plans to go on that trip. i would not miss it for anything. and i realize: labor day is AFTER work starts up again. so now in this moment i realize that i am going back to work. it's so small, and maybe i should not depend on little things the way i do, but... i'm not sure how i want to finish that, so i'm just not going to.

on the way home we make it out of the city and through the border without incident. we're tired, but we're doing ok. well, actually, we're pretty wrecked. but i know the way home is faster by about a half hour if we get off the interstate and go through fairfax. rumblestrip, bless her heart, for some reason suggests we go by the building where i work. you know, so she can see it.

i'm not fooled, and neither, probably, are you. of course we go.

rumblestrip and i are increasingly of the belief that we are being called to something, but we do not yet know exactly what. rumblestrip is of the conviction that her first task is to do whatever she can to help me return successfully to my job, to help me be well again, which is an astounding task because i was already quite ill when i met her.

it's really late by the time we get back to my house; rumblestrip is too wrecked to continue on, so i install her on the couch and i retire upstairs. she's asleep before i am; even though it is late i still have to have a shower and evening prayer. even ten thirty will come early, so i'm a little worried about sleep.

i don't remember the dream, but i know in the morning i was screaming, and not in the benign way i screamed on the rollercoaster. it is a very bad feeling to wake crying in the morning; already you are overflowed with sorrow and the day has not started, even. but rumblestrip is there; she wakes me from the dream and comforts me.

i'm prepared to have leftover sandwiches for breakfast, but rumblestrip is of the "breakfast food" mentality; she knows i have waffles in the freezer. "how many do i want?", she asks.

six.

"how many do you think you ought to have?"

two.

so. breakfast and out to church. it's the essex alliance church, which is pretty far off of what we're used to, but we are grateful to be at a late service and we both find something sufficiently moving that we are certain that it is no accident that we are there.

rumblestrip goes home and then off to other projects and for most of the day she does not have the opportunity to sit still for more than ten minutes, but i get home and call the craschcos to see if they want to go out and play on this beautiful blue day, but i don't want to go berry picking and we can't quite decide exactly where we want to go bike riding.

i kind of want to go for a LONG ride, but mrs. crashco does not, and crashco is suggesting a compromise ride. he REALLY wants to ride today because he has a really spiffy new bike.

"go have a nap.", he tells me. "we'll call you when we're done berry picking."

so i do. i have very dense dreams which, in a surprise move, i'm not going to tell you about. and i've been lying awake faboutout a half hour, trying to puzzle them out, trying to recount them, so i can retell the story later, when the phone rings.

sleep has put things in better perspective for me, and we decide on an easy rolling loop from jonesville to richmond on route 2 and back on cochran road. then we go for a lovely walk in south burlington and find a couple of geocaches. by now it is the end of the day, so we go have something to eat.

pretty soon after arriving home i sit down with a bottle of very good ginger beer and begin to write you this account and now it is nearly three in the morning and i am hopeful of a sound and gentle sleep.

i hope that you are sleeping already; and i hope that your dreams are sweet and gentle. i hope you wake easily and well-refreshed.

tomorrow is monday; technically it's been monday already for a couple of hours. i won't go to work, but someday soon i will stand in my rightful place and i will claim my life back forcefully, and with authority.

there will probably be difficult days. what has changed is that tonight i expect to come out on the other side still standing, still drawing breath.