It was raining when I exited Route 385 in Memphis. Traffic
slowed as I rolled up to the light at Winchester Road. There was someone
sitting in a wheel chair, next to the left lane. Most everyone kept their
windows rolled up, waiting for the traffic signal to turn green. An old Pontiac Grand Am, with mismatched
fenders and rusted out doors, opened their driver’s side door and handed the
person in the wheelchair a few dollars. Old Pontiac Grand Ams seem to be the
official car for people on a very tight budget. It’s funny, I have often
noticed that people of little means can be the most charitable. They know, I
suppose, what it is like to be cold and hungry.
By the time I got to the light, it had changed to yellow,
then red, again. I reached into my pocket to see if I had a few dollar bills to
spare. I tried not to make eye contact with the wheel chair bound citizen
before I knew what I had to give. Finding three singles, my eyes drifted to the
legless man in the wheel chair. He was dirty, despite the rain, and disheveled.
He had a cardboard sign, “Vietnam Veteran. Please help!” That’s when I saw his
eyes, and knew it was my incognito friend, The Sun of Man. Actually, he only
had one good eye, the right one. The left was milky and had that Forest
Whitaker ptosis droop.
I hit the emergency fishers, popped the trunk of my rented
Chevy Malibu, and got out of the car, saying “Geezuz Jesus! What the hell are
you doing out here in the Memphis rain?! Get in the car for Christ sakes, your
sakes, whatever, just get in the car.”
Jesus said, “I ain’t got no legs
today Theo, you are going to have to help.”
“Oh, great. You know my back has been giving me trouble.” I
moaned.
I pushed the wheel chair, and legless, one-eyed Jesus to the
passenger side of the car. That door was locked, “Oh flippin great!” I mumbled,
as I stomped back to the driver’s side to hit the unlock button. I stepped in a
puddle, soaking my black Allen Edmunds shoe, and the sock, just as horns started
to honk and I opened the driver’s side door. I yelled out to no one in
particular, “Go fuck yourselves! Someone could help us, you know.”
No one did.
I made my way back to Jesus in his wheel chair, he was
laughing.
“Oh sure, yuck it up at my expense.” I said to the I AM.
“I always do!” the I AM
exclaimed.
I lifted Jesus out of his wheel chair, and l struggled to
get him into the car. I gasped for air.
“Wow. You stink, Jesus. Did you have to go for the complete
homeless package?” He smelled so bad, I could taste it. Of all the possible
B.O.’s, chewable B.O. was the worst.
“Hey, you have done some acting. You
know how important it is to inhabit your character fully.” was Jesus’
reason for funking up my rental car.
As we rode to my hotel, I asked The Alpha and The Omega how
well he did with donations.
“About one out of twenty cars gave
me some cash. One guy tossed an empty beer can at my head, he will be dead by
sundown, and I had a few, ‘Get a job!’ comments yelled my way. All totaled, I
received about fifty bucks, and coupon for a McDonalds hamburger, fries, and a
drink.”
I sighed and said to HIM, “I know that some people don’t
like to give a homeless person cash, for fear they will spend it on booze or
drugs, but I am pretty sure that if I was totally F-ed up by some stupid war I
was conned to fight in, I would be getting loaded every day.”
Jesus replied, “That was a
thoughtful gift. For someone to carry vouchers for food in their car, they must
have planned it knowing that they would find me, or someone who could use a meal.
Pretty nice, really. Remind me to send a blessing their way.”
Jesus reached in his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. He
looked around the rental car for the cigarette lighter, flipping open all the
little doors that led to all the little places, none of which contained a
factory cigarette lighter. “Oh, come on now…” Jesus said.
“They don’t put lighters in cars anymore, Jesus. It is part
of the great nannying of the human race.”
“No matter, Ted. Hey, can you still
do that trick with your thumb to make it click?”
“You mean this?” I moved the thumb on my right hand
backwards, clicking the joint where it attaches to my hand. A flame popped up
from my thumb, as Jesus grabbed my hand and lit his cigarette.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, as I nearly lost control of the Malibu,
blowing on my thumb to put out the flame.
“Thanks!” Jesus let out one
of his, “I got you Ted” laughs that I have heard many times.
“First you stink up this car, now you are smoking in it?!
They charge for cleaning a stunk up car at Hertz, you know.” Jesus could
sometimes be inconsiderate.
“Don’t worry, I am sure that I can
deodorize your precious rental car before you have to turn it in.” Jesus
was getting annoyed with me.
“Well, don’t forget,” I said sheepishly.
We arrived at the hotel I had booked for my short stay in
Memphis, and I rolled One-eyed legless, fragrant, Jesus into the lobby and up
to the registration desk.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wodoslawsky. Checking in?” the hotel
desk clerk, Daisy, asked.
“Yep! I will need a double room, handicapped, if you have
one.”
“We have something on the first floor. Would that be
alright?”
“Perfect, Daisy. Thank you.”
Jesus piped up and said, “Daisy is a
wonderful name! One cannot say it without being happy.”
Daisy said, “Thank you sir! And what is your name?’
“Alphie Omega,” is what Jesus
told Daisy. I rolled my eyes. Daisy
smiled and handed me two hotel keys.
I wheeled Jesus, with my luggage on his lap, towards room
107. “Alphie Omega? Really?” I said, shaking my head.
Jesus chuckled and said, “Good one,
huh?”
“It’s something,” was my reply.
“That was weird though. Daisy never batted an eye about your
appearance or cologne.” I said as I swiped the hotel key, opening the door to
our room.
“A few people naturally see beyond
the superficial. Daisy is one of them. This will be one of her last trips
here.” the King of Kings explained.
I pushed the wheelchair, with Jesus and my luggage into the
room.
“Jesus, how about you take a shower. You can wear my spare
set of clothing. I always bring and extra day’s change of clothes, in case I
get stranded somewhere.”
“Thanks Theo!” Jesus wheeled
himself into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on.
I was on my mobile phone, checking in at home, when I heard
singing in the shower.
“…Multitudes are marching to the big
kettle drum.
Voices callin', voices cryin'.
Some are born an' some are dyin'.
It's Alphie Omega’s Kingdom come!”
Jesus laughed. He was very amused at his own wit. Admittedly, I was too.
I was on the phone, checking my voice mails, when Jesus, or
Alphie Omega, emerged from the bathroom. Looking clean and refreshed, with two
good legs underneath him, he pushed his wheel chair into a corner, and folded
it up.
He had two good eyes too.
“Hey Jesus, good to see you looking like your old self, or
at least the self I am used to seeing.” I was happy to see the common Western
European version of The Son of Man.
“Yeah, it was time to knock of work
for the day. By the way, where the hell have you been? I have not seen you in
at least two years, or you haven’t seen me, to be more accurate.”
“I think I have been mourning the death of my mother, Alice
Joann Stupi Wodoslawsky. Her death was a
combination of beauty and stark horror. She has finally stopped showing up in
my dreams. My subconscious finally let her go.” I explained to the I AM.
“We all mourn in our own way.” Jesus
said with a sigh. “I’m sorry that life has to end in
death, but that’s why we are here. To live and die.”
“I try to understand that, Jesus. It will be my turn to go
sooner than I like to think. Maybe I will see my mom on the other side of all
of this. I hope so.’
“You gotta have faith, Ted! Without
it…” Jesus trailed off.
“What’s on the agenda for this
afternoon?” askith He.
“I was planning on going to the office, but since you are
here, we could go do some sightseeing. There are Civil War battlefields within
driving distance, Sun Records, Beale Street, and of course, Graceland.” I offered
Jesus some options.
“Graceland sounds good. I haven't
been there since I called Elvis home. I really don't want to revisit any Civil
War battlefields.” Jesus
sighed and shook his head. The he said, “Homo Lupi
Homo”
I knew that
phrase from my limited exposure to Latin, it means, “Man is a wolf to man.” The
historical record proves that out.
Jesus and I
drove to Graceland, paid our tickets, and prepared to tour Elvis’ old stomping
ground. We were waiting in line, when someone said, “You look just like The
King!” I looked around to see who they were talking about, when The King of
Kings said, “Thank you. Thank you very much!” There he was, Jesus-Elvis right out
of the 1968 Comeback Special - probably Elvis at his most handsome.
I looked at
Jesvis and said, “I should have seen this coming.”
The King replied,
“What’s a matter Teddy boy, are you all shook
up? Uh huh..”
I just shook
my head.
We had
reached the part of the line where people took pictures in front of an image of
the Graceland fence. People wanted to get their pictures taken with Jesvis, and
he was obliging. Little did anyone know that they were getting their picture
taken with The King of Kings posing as The King. After about a half hour of
this, Jesus/Elvis and I made our way to the Graceland Mansion.
Graceland is
by no means a mansion by today’s standards. It is more like the McMansions that
today populate upper middle class neighborhoods. I once heard a comedian joke
about Graceland, “There is nothing scarier than a hillbilly with money.” He
must have been standing in the Graceland Jungle Room when he came up with that
thought.
Jesus put his
hand on the wall, as if to feel the energy from the house, and a look of
sadness came over him. I put my hand on Jesus’ shoulder, to offer some comfort and
said, “People come here to see where someone famous, maybe he was their idol,
lived and died. It reminds me of a tomb of a great Egyptian pharaoh that is
open for tours.”
Jesus said, “That is exactly what it is Theo. The only difference is
Elvis didn’t build Graceland as his tomb, it just wound up that way. Pharaohs
built tombs and packed it with the stuff of their day, to accompany them on the
journey to the afterlife. All the things they that thought they would need in
the journey to the hereafter. The truth is, you take nothing with you into the
next world.”
“Some people start giving their stuff away when their time
is almost up. My grandparents did, and my mom did. The things I gave them as
gifts, were given back to me. I didn’t even remember half the stuff. When they
died, I got back even more stuff,” I sighed.
We got to the building that housed all of Elvis’ Gold
records and other awards. That is probably the saddest room in Graceland, at
least to me. I looked at Jesus and he had switched from his Elvis look, into a
regular guy wearing a trucker hat. It had a pair of dice and the words “Holly
Roller” silk screened on the front. He had on a pair of Wrangler blue jeans,
with the knee torn out, and a white T-shirt with a pack of Lucky Strikes rolled
up under one sleeve. A tooled leather belt with a rhinestone “THE KING” belt
buckle, and black cowboy boots completed the look.
“Look at all the success he had,” I said out loud. “Yet, it wasn’t enough. I imagine he was
happier during the time he was working his way up in the music industry. Once
he got there, he was doomed.”
“That should be the lesson that
people take away from here. All the stuff you think will make you happy winds
up becoming your prison. Elvis died surrounded by monuments to himself. He died
sick and sad. Like a lot of people,” Jesus said. “The things you own, will wind
up owning you,” as someone once said.
Jesus made a broad swipe with his left hand.
“Alphie, are you about ready to get out of here?” I asked.
“Yeah, this place is a downer. I
just want to stop by the graves on our way out.”
We stood there, in front of the Presley family plots at
Graceland. Jesus said, “I like the idea of burying your dead on your own property.
It’s a nice way to keep those who were close to us, close to us after they have
gone from this world. Now days, we are insulated from death. Grandma or grand
pap dies in a hospital, often times alone. Then they are wheeled out to the
undertaker and embalmed. The blood is drained. A plug is put in their butt, and
a heavy coat of makeup is applied so that we can remember people the way they
were. Which is a joke, really. No matter what we do, they are no longer
animated with the spirit of life. Then we hall them off and stick ‘em in the
ground miles away from us in some vain attempt at keep death away from us.
Death finds us all. We can’t hide from it.”
“Hey, speaking of death, where is your friend, Bob - The Angel of Death? I have not seen him for awhile. Not that I REALLY want to.” I
askith Alphie, The Lord.
“Ha! Your ‘war on terror,’ has kept him quite busy. I don’t
know the body count off hand, but it is getting close to two million souls. Everybody
yaks about someone being ‘The Next Hitler,” all while feeding the slaughter
machine.” Jesus was getting pissed.
“Don’t blame me, Jesus! I have been trying to tell people
that we have been conned into thinking we are the noble, ‘Good guys,’ for at
least the past ten years. Sadly, the same propaganda works over and over again.
I think it was Goebbels who said, “Of course the people don’t want war. But after all, it’s
the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it’s always a simple
matter to drag the people along whether it’s a democracy, a fascist
dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice,
the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy.
All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the
pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger.”
“After watching this for two millennia,
I do not think it will ever change. Christians killed Jews, Jews killed
Muslims, Hindus killed Buddhists, and everybody killed pagans. It has never
stopped. I find it funny that people think I am going to return from the sky
and fix it all. You know how I would fix it? Burn the planet to a crisp. End this
once and forever. No do overs. My message was quite clear. Love your neighbor.
Love your enemies. Help others. It’s really quite simple.” Jesus’ voice
trailed off, and he sighed. “I was nailed to a cross
once for these fools. I have zero interest in doing anything more.”
I put my hand on my friend’s shoulder, and said, “Let’s head
over to Beale Street for some jazz, barbeque and beer.”
“Let’s go, Teddy.” Jesus
replied, and we headed to the Chevy Malibu, Alphie Omega began to sing, “Walking in Memphis,” as the sun set on Southwestern Tennessee.
copyright 2017 - Ted Sky
