My eyes popped open this morning when the cell phone vibrated off the bedside table and crashed to the wood floor. It just moved around there on the floor as if there was an earthquake happening. There wasn't. It was a good friend informing me that she was having a party tonight. I told her I needed something to get me out of this now terminally fowl mood, and that I would get back to her.
NPR was going on with their usual prattle. I used to love to listen to the "Morning Edition" and rarely would I ever miss "All things Considered", but they have not withstood the pressure of the times well. They have never been the same since they were privatized by the R s. National Private Radio just didn't sound right either. I still listen of course, hoping for the return of real news, but in all fairness, it just isn't in vogue, or I guess more accurately, almost everyone has forgotten what real news is supposed to sound like.
I sat on the little green saddle bench with the little bells on it. It supposedly came from Persia, and perhaps it did, but I saw one the other day in a junk shop in SOCO. They didn't want very much for it.
As I put my foot in my boot, I felt a little bump, actually a big one. I slipped my foot out and turned the boot upside down. Now, these shoes are Blundstones and if you know what that means, you know what that means. These are magic shoes.
As I turned my shoe upside down, a small round ball came rolling out of the sole. It bounced for a minute on my mail order rug and settled just below my feet. I looked at it as it came to rest on the black wool that supposedly came from the winter coat of some shaved creature on the other side of the earth.
The small ball was white, very white. And it had a shine to it. And it was not just a normal shine, it had a rich luster that made it feel like it might really have been somewhere.
I picked it up and brought it close to my left eye, the one I can see up close with. I thought, this looks real to me.
Now, I had taken my boots off right there the night before, and I can sadly but confidently assure you there had been no visitor in this night that might have somehow left part of their wardrobe in my boot as a keepsake of our delirium.
I stuck it in my left pocket and went to work. As I walked out the door, I noticed how this day was clear and clean and crisp and it somehow had a good smell to it. I said hello to the morning dove sitting in the poor pecan tree that is so leaning sideways, I fear it will just fall over some day. The dove seemed to give me a coo and little wink.
At work, I finished the report that had been driving me a little crazy. Mostly, I looked forward to my lunch with my good friend Gabriel who had just come back from Turkey.
We hugged as we met at the old lunch counter with the the swivel chairs.
"You look thin."
"Istanbul is a crazy place these days to be an American."
We sat down and began to chat it up.
He had been on assignment at the Embassy at Istanbul.
"So anything new", I said.
He seemed like he wasn't sure.
"Well, this morning, I found this in my shoe.
It's a pearl I think."
I just looked.
"Yeah it was in my right shoe."
"Where did it come from?"
"I haven't the slightest idea."
"Is it real?"
I let it go.
I went back to work. I held my Pearl in my hand, feeling it, rubbing it.
After a few minutes, I got restless, so I walked to the mens room.
James, my best friend, managed to Vulcan mind merge meet me there.
"Everything going OK."
"Sure, sure. "
"Going to the party tonight?"
"Probably, but Jeezus, I just wish we could celebrate for a change."
I noticed that as he walked out, he had his hand in his pocket.
"What's in your pocket?"
"Well, it's weird but I found this Pearl in my shoe this morning."
"Don't know quite what to make of it."
This was way too much for me now, like synchronicity on steroids, so I showed him my Pearl and then I told him that Gabriel had found a pearl in his shoe too.
James followed me to the bat cave. We called Gabriel and brought him in on the deal.
We turned on NPR.
We could not believe our ears.
Fitzgerald, the Special Prosecutor on the Plame Affair was talking.
He was talking about indictments,
Serious indictments against Bush, Cheney, Rove, the whole lot.
He had a list of lies and misdeeds as long as the summers in Georgia.
Democrats and Republicans were calling for the resignations of them all.
The most corrupt, most mendacious, most dangerous force to peace
in the history of the American Experience was collapsing
before our eyes.
And not a moment too soon.
We each held our Pearls in our hands.
Silently, we wondered.
But that night,
We had a Party.
Later in the evening.
Pearl drops fell like angels.
What it is About