The Unseen Here and
Now . . .
Stuart
Revercomb
Stuart
Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four
children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be
a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.
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"Thursday's Fare"
Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself ?
I know many of you will find this hard to believe given my pension for manly things like rugby and mountain climbing, (on TV), but there was once a day when I was well... wimpy.
Like real wimpy - like pink belly puppy dog wimpy - like so scared of the nighttime shadows in our upstairs hall that if I had forgotten to "make water" before bed it was held until sunrise. And even then, if I was the first one up, I proceeded with caution. You never knew what might have slipped in behind the shower curtain during the night.
Needless to say Halloween scared the daylights out of me - living or otherwise. Trick-or-treating alone was out of the question. So as soon as I was freed of the interminable embarrassment of doing so with mom or dad, I insisted on going with my two older brothers. But why I chose to cast my lot with these two, I'll never know.
Older brothers are perhaps one's greatest friends - willing
to sacrifice their lives and maybe even their reputations, if little brother
is in danger from the neighborhood bully. But given the chance to scare
nothing short of "the hell" out of him, they will avail themselves
of the opportunity without reservation.
On more than one occasion I turned from a doorway to find the long concrete
path behind me empty.
"Jim...?, Randy...? C'mon guys this isn't funny..."
Eventually I would tiptoe down the walk to get a better look up the street to see if they had left me completely behind, only to have every last wit I ever had scared out of me as they roared from behind some nearby bush with arms waving high and wild.
"AAAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH !!!!"
Candy was scattered for half a block in both directions as I involuntarily flung my bag into the night sky. If a cardiologist had been able to get an EKG at that precise moment, they could have written several new theories on heart rhythms I'm sure. This, after pronouncing me dead.
But the best trick ever played came late one Halloween night and was undertaken by someone other than my brothers. In fact, It was Randy and I who suffered the consequences of their "treachery" - in hindsight, a brilliant ploy thought up in the "heat of the moment".
We had all come in from our initial foray and scattered our treasure across the living room floor. A quick survey of our loot indicated that brother Jim had clearly established a superior procurement system. I'm not sure if he had started early, or simply managed to pilfer mine after scaring me to the brink of death, but one thing was certain - he had more candy.
"C'mon Stuart", said Randy, "lets make one more sweep down Brentwood Drive. We can catch up with Jim if we hurry". I was unsure. It was getting late and there weren't many other trick-or-treaters still out. I surveyed the floor once again. Greed and envy got the better of me.
"O.K. - but let's be quick", I added.
Randy and I dashed out the back door and through our eighbor's
backyards to the street behind us. Within minutes we were at the top of
the street making our way back home. Halfway down the block we came to
a house where a party appeared to be going on. There were people dancing
in the front room to some very loud music. Most of them were singing rather
zealously along
with the tune :
"UH, LOOWEE, LOOWEEEE - OHH, BABY, WE GOTTA GO NOW... YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH... UH, LOOWEE, LOOWEEEE - OHH BABY !.....
The rest of the words were incomprehensible.
They still are.
Randy and I pondered whether we should go down the short steep drive. The music beckoned to our young imaginations - it's syncopated rhythm carrying with it the intoxicating promise of unknown joys over the darkened lawns and through the cool air of the October night. The carport was lit up. There were clearly decorations on the door. "Lets go", one of us must have said. We knocked on the side door several times. Finally a young man of college age flung it open.
"Well lookie here!", he said gleefully, "Trick-or treaters! You boys are out kind of late aren't you?"
"We're trying to catch up with our older brother - he has more candy..." (We looked as forlorn as possible.)
"Oh", he replied. "Well I wish we could help you. I'd give you the whole bowl if we had any, but its all gone... I'm sorry but you'll just have to...." He paused a moment. "Hang on", he said. "Stay right here." He closed the door. After a few moments he returned.
"Boys, I just checked with Big John who owns the house, and Big John says that you guys are the one hundredth trick-or-treaters! Congratulations ! You've won the GRAND PRIZE!"
"Wow !", we must have replied.
The door swung open a little further. A large man that certainly looked like he could be "Big John" was silhouetted by a bright kitchen light behind him. In his arms was a very, very large watermelon.
"Holy Cow ! Look at that", Randy beamed in awe, "The Grand Prize!"
"Yes Sir", said Big John, "and its ALL yours..." He leaned over and placed it gently in our outstretched arms. "Congratulations!", he said again with a hearty laugh. The door swung shut. We were overwhelmed by our good fortune.
"Wait 'til Dad sees this!", Randy yelled.
"The Grand Prize!" I added.
We turned to haul our newfound treasure home. But we had one small problem.
We couldn't carry it.
That driveway might as well have been the Matterhorn.
In hindsight, I can now see the young revelers laughing
as they watched my brother and I fall all over ourselves in a desperate
attempt to get that watermelon up that hill. By the time we got to the
top we were covered in juice and the driveway itself was littered with
chunks of bright red fruit as well as some of the candy from our bags.
It was one of the best examples of determination meeting futility that
the world has ever witnessed.
Certainly the best those folks had seen in a while.
By the time we got home, my parents were so worried out
of love for us, that they were, of course, ready to kill us. Somehow they
weren't as excited about the "Grand Prize" as we had thought
they would be. Maybe it was because we only had about one third of the
original melon - most of which was now nothing more than scuffed up rind.
I remember Dad shaking his head as he hauled the dripping carcass out
the back door. We were hustled
off to bed, our bags of loot going unsampled until morning.
I no longer fear the goblins, ghosts and ghouls of this world, made-up or otherwise. It's the unexpected circumstances and my inability to grasp them and react appropriately that scare me the most now - which is "the fear itself" that I suppose Mr. Truman was speaking of...
The opposite of such fear is an unfailing trust - a faith in a God that can work with even the worst moments that our selves and this world has to offer - a faith that brings with it the kind of peace in which true courage is found and debilitating fear is forever lost.
With such faith we can carry any load.
Even those "Grand Prizes" that were really just melons all along.