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The Last Day of the Great Laibon [a story]

by Michael Robbins

This story is dedicated to my father.

 

Kiana had been in the wilderness alone. It was against protocol, and exactly what she needed. That’s what she told herself anyway. Lions came to nuzzle her belly, rumbling softly, perhaps due to that acute animal instinct for knowing when something was wrong. Usually they scattered when the Old man came around.

The first time was on the first day of the month, on the first hour past noon. Of course it was. He popped around a tree on those sand scattered Kalahari plains and waved. Kiana started, then bent over the hand-held UV monitor in both her mitts and muttered, “It’s not real.”

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On the second day, at the appointed hour, he climbed into the sun-screened Jeep with her with a cheery “Hello!” Her grip tightened knuckle white on the steering wheel. “You’re not real,” she repeated, almost as a mantra. Her bright green eyes shunted her off onto a vision, flashing to the live-feed six weeks past, to the same man, now more emaciated than he’d been at their last contact, seemingly plied with ever-more tubes in every vein. She blinked, jerking to the side, but the man was gone, at least for now.

Twice more she saw him, at a distance paralleling her as she did her job, collecting genetic samples from the indigenous wildlife. It wasn’t normally dangerous work, but it was always better to work in teams. Especially on the Kalahari with its hundred-degree-plus temperatures, sparse grasses, pale sand pans and gnarled camel thorn trees clawing infrequently at the sky. On the sixth day, it almost cost her.

Kiana had sampled some weaver birds but hadn’t been paying enough attention to her surroundings. Which was how the cheetah had stumbled into her. They literally tripped over one another. Luckily Kiana rolled one way and the spotted cheetah the other. Her heart hammered at her ribs with startling ferocity. That was nothing compared to the snarl issuing from the big cat.

Its eyes were cloudy. It must have an older cat who stumbled carelessly into the noonday sun and been blinded. With all the other adverse effects of climate change it couldn’t have been helped. This was not helping her at all, though. Her limbs were still trying not to move. She didn’t seem to have much control over her shrill breathing, something the cheetah’s ears tuned in on with terrible accuracy.

That’s when the Old man stepped around her, waving both long arms and yelling, startling the cat enough that she could get off a shot with her tranq pistol. It took a couple of shots to flatten the agitated beast, but it was done.

The pistol thunked to the brittle yellow grass as the Old Man swung back to her with that familiar grin. “That’s why you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he said. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“…please stop,” she whispered, her overflowing eyes burning. “…god, please stop…you can’t be here…”

“I don’t see why not. The cheetah seemed to agree with me.”

“B-but, Poppa, you’re gone. You’re…y-y-you’re…”

It all came spilling out, all the tears dammed for the past six weeks, all the suppressed emotions, stealing her breath, choking her. The Old Man returned from the truck with a paper bag for her to breath into. He held onto her with soothing words as she hunched over herself, hyperventilating for how long, an hour? All she was able to choke out in all that time was, “forgive me.”

“What for, baby?” he asked.

“I-I wasn’t there, Poppa. I-I didn’t come for the end.”

“The cancer was pretty far along this time. There wasn’t a lot anyone could do.”

As he’d done when she was younger and brought home every stray dog in the neighborhood, teary-eyed, he now dabbed her cheeks with a kerchief that was the same safari-brown as his sleeveless shirt and shorts. “It’s okay, Baby. Say what’s really bothering you.”

She could look at him now, into the smiling eyes that had raised her, the face now smoothed of all aches. “Is heaven real?” she asked.

“It’s better than heaven,” he shrugged. “Go on. You can do it.”

“I can’t.”

“What, the little girl who frolicked with lions? That’s not who I remember.”

“That’s just it. I didn’t want to remember you like that, all wasted away. I wanted you to be strong in my memory. I wanted to remember all the fishing trips with you and Momma. I wanted to remember that big hug you gave me when I came home from my mission.”

“You can still have that. Nothing wrong with that.”

“But I-I’m not ready.”

“I wasn’t. Nobody’s ever ready. That’s okay. I have faith in you, baby.”

“Does Momma hate me, for not coming home?”

He blew a raspberry out the side of his mouth. “Never. ‘Worried’ is more like it. You should give her a call.” Together they stood. “I’ve been allowed this one visit. I’ve probably overstayed it already. Why don’t I help you load that cat in the cage before I get back?”

This was done in no time at all. As she slammed the metal cage shut in the back of the Jeep, he tipped her chin up, chucking her on it. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

She ducked her head with a smile. A stiff breeze whipped through her bones and he was gone. In the depression in the grass where he’d stood, there remained a small red book of Psalms, the one he’d always carried with him for forty years. The one Momma swore she’d buried with him.

Retrospective, Neil Diamond’s Hot August Night (1972)

The first Neil Diamond song I ever heard was “Sweet Caroline” from 1969, so I can say that I was literally listening to that man before my wife was born.

Hot August Night should be on one of those lists people are fond of on the Internet, in the Top 5 of the Best Live Albums Ever Made for instance. I have good memories of this LP, it was in my Dad’s record collection when we were living by ourselves in the 1970s. there’s four of those records now, but I’m only going to be looking at the first.

My wife and I saw Neil Diamond in Seattle, around 1996. It was paid for by our mother-in-law, which was one of the few good things she ever did for us. There was a good vibe running throughout that concert. “America” is a song that’s best appreciated live; everyone was holding hands, including us, during “Sweet Caroline”.

Neil Diamond is a consummate performer, and on this double LP he’s at the height of his powers. It’s hard to believe that man was shy in high school, although that seems to seep out in the times he shares dialogue with the audience. It’s an astounding performance captured  at one of his favorite venues, the Greek Theater in Los Angeles. It was the first record released on the brand new label MCA, which came about from a merging of the Uni, Kapp and Decca labels.

Apparently it was a quick turnaround from performance to release, as the concert was recorded, naturally enough, on August 24, 1972, one of ten sold-out concerts at the Greek that month. It was in record stores by December 9.

It has its share of deep cuts, lesser known songs like “Porcupine Pie”, “Soggy Pretzels” and “Canta Libre”. We agree, my wife and I, that this slowed down version of “Red Red Wine” may be one his best renditions of that song. And there are the hits–“Solitary Man”, “Sweet Caroline”, “Shilo”, “Play Me” and live cuts from what was then his most recent LP, Tap Root Manuscript. My wife always cries when he does “I Am… I Said”, and I’m pretty sure Neil was deeply affected, too. The show closed with the inevitable “Brother Love’s Travelling Salvation Show”.

The album sleeve is one that has to be seen. One wonders if Neil ever looks back at that cover and asks, ‘Wow, did I ever have THAT much hair?’ Here’s to you, Neil Diamond, and may you have many happy years to come.

The Festival of Navaratri 2020

This is my first venture into the realm of Hindu festivals. What I’m about to provide will be a gross simplification, I know, an outline of its meanings at best. There is much to learn, and I’m only beginning. Well, here goes.

The Festival of Navrati is celebrated in India and all over the world over nine nights in the autumn, post monsoon season. Also known as Durga puja or Sharada Navrati–nav (nine) ratri (nights)–it comes in the Hindu calendar month of Ashum, roughly in September or October. The festival honors Goddess Durga, who defeated the buffalo-demon king Mahishasura in battle, and to honor the feminine power. The goddess rides a tiger or a lion, and each of her many arms carries a weapon–a conch, bow and arrow, a sword, javelin, a noose and a shield.

Over this holy week each day is dedicated to one of her nine avatars. The nine forms of Maa Durga are:

-Goddess Shailputri, considered the most important manifestation of Durga; she contains the aspects of unconditional love, mercy and knowledge;

-Goddess Brahmacharini signifies love, affection and fidelity, and is also a symbol of toughness. By worshipping her with pure love and devotion, she will bestow immense stamina to hold on while you fast. She is represented as one who loved to walk barefoot;

-Goddess Chandraghanta is worshipped as a goddess of peace and forgiveness, with the power to eradicate evil. While she is ready to destroy the wicked, her devotees see her as a compassionate mother;

-Goddess Kushmanda is credited with creating the universe with her divine smile. She is believed to improve health and to bestow spiritual fulfillment

-Goddess Skandamata grants knowledge and wisdom to her devotees;

-Goddess Katyayani, a warrior divinity who fulfills the wishes of those who worship her with a pure heart;

-Goddess Kaalratri destroys ignorance and spreads light. It is also possible she was a precursor of the diety Kali;

-Goddess Mahagauri fulfills the desires of her devotees. This form of Durga represents purity; and

-Goddess Siddhidatri, the final form, fulfills all the divine aspirations of Maa Durga.