Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

It the Weekend. So we’re putting together a post to link up with Kristi and them. (Kristi is the host of the TToT bloghop and works hard to make this place all kinds of inviting and available and such)

1) Phyllis who took the photo above from her Mini on a un-seasonable day a few weeks ago.

2) Una who always rides shotgun

3) automobiles… cause they constitute a subset of reality that really is closer to the secret of the universe than many of us appreciate.*

4) Excerpt from ‘Almira’ Backstory: Almira’s husband, Sterling has returned from the war (WWI) to the family home in Providence RI. Even though the bandages have been removed, not all wounds completely heal. Sterling’s family was wealthy enough to warrant a domestic staff. Heading this staff was Edward Fenton. He served the Gulch family as butler since before Sterling can remember. (In the book Sterling is always First Person POV)

Almira came into our bedroom and asked if I wouldn’t like to come downstairs and join her in the garden. Cursing myself, I replied, “Maybe in a bit.”

I remained silent as she stood at the bedroom door. Hurt, insufficiently hidden in her face, echoed the self-loathing that bloomed in my mind. The silence grew and became, as silence between two people sometimes does, something monstrous and destructive, feeding on unspoken fears.

“All right, Sterling. I’ll be down in the library if you want to join me.”

She walked out, closing the bedroom door which made the hateful voice inside me almost rabid with angry glee… She closed the door? Now, even if you considered leaving here, you have to get up and open the door yourself. And when you do that, you admit that you’re the jerk. What the hell does she think she’s doing?

There was a knock on the door. Before I could get up, I heard Edward speaking through the door. “Begging Mr. Gulch’s pardon, may I speak freely?”

I decided to play along. To be honest, I didn’t want to think. To think was to give that part of my mind a chance to pull me farther into the depths, so I said, “Of course, Edward.”

“You need to get out of the goddamn bed. Sir. Go and suffer in the bathroom, if you must, then get yourself downstairs to your wife. You may believe your scars and memories diminish you as a man; she does not. She does not give in to her own demons. Demons, I might add, that we all must contend with.”

He opened the door and stood staring at me. I looked back at him.

Edward appeared to be as old as my father. However, there was something in the way he carried himself that made me think of ancient Sparta. Not that his appearance was anything more than that of a tall, thin, older gentleman’s gentleman. It showed more in the deliberateness of his movements than in any overt demonstration of strength. He was one of those men that strangers might describe as cold and aloof. He was anything but, however, I’ve known him since I was a young boy. Whenever my father had a problem that no one could help him solve, in the end, Edward would be there.

“I trust you won’t think I’m being impertinent, sir. You should to go to your wife, she needs you more than she will ever say. The work she’s done in the two years you’ve been away has taken it’s toll on her. Quite a remarkable woman. You, if I may say so, have the potential of becoming a remarkable man. She deserves nothing less.”

I got up, the voracious despair faded out, perhaps just for the moment, but it was enough for me to move out of the room I had imprisoned myself in for the last six months, “Anything in particular I should know about the time I’ve been away, Edward?”

“Nothing you don’t already know, sir.”

I saw what I believed was a look of approval and felt as I had when I won my first medal in high school track. As I walked past, he said, “There was a policeman here last year, from Lawrence, Massachusetts. He struck me as the kind of man who, although not dangerous on his own, when directed by people he is indebted to, can be rather troublesome. Captain Herlihy was his name. I do not trust him.”

I stopped and looked at him. There was a subtle change in his facial expression. Beyond any doubt, Edward, for all of his proper manners, had a lethal side that would stop at nothing to protect those given to his care.

“Thank you, Edward.”

“Certainly, sir.”

5) Six Sentence Story… like homework that you don’t mind doing.

6) * well, if you insist. Having a car is to be in motion, external elements of the world in a state of constant (and continual) change, although never losing their basic character. The familiar and the constant are experienced through the prism (or lens, if you prefer) of factors such as the velocity of the car, the weather outside, the time of day. The result is a unique experience. Sure, you drive the same route everyday. We get that the geography remains pretty much the same each trip. Each ride, though, is a different section of the life you lead. (Thanx and a ‘tip o the hat’** to Heraclitus and the gang)

7) ** way, way old cultural reference. Pat Brockett might remember the comic strip, but hardly anyone else.

8) THIS SPACE AVAILABLE (for anyone interested in participating in this ‘hop but can’t quite bring themselves to hit ‘Publish’. Send it in as a comment and see how it looks on a list.)

9) Two words: Daylight Savings Time.  (booyah!)

10) Secret Rule 1.3. (Inquire within. Really a good thing. Nothing bad or scary. Really!)

music vid (stuck in my head from this morning)