Tom McCaffrey’s Day Off

Yesterday was an interesting day. Not particularly exciting, just interesting in an off-beat, cool way.

I knew I was in for a treat when I saw that beautiful sunrise over a white fence during my rounds. The weather stayed perfect.

To begin with, Lisa worked a per diem shift, which left control of my day solely within my hands. (As a total non-sequitur, I have read somewhere that bachelors live longer. Lenny is far more fit than the rest of the OFC – except for the Vampire BC – and he is the only one who has escaped marital bliss).

Now I had offered to volunteer my physical labor to our dear friends and neighbors – Dick, Sally and Sue Smeeding – across the road, but it turned out that they had a full contingent of beefy volunteers from their local church, led by the fighter jet instructor son who they are moving to be near – who looks like a central casting version of an NFL pro quarterback – and decided they didn’t need me. That freed me up immeasurably.

So, after I took care of my prepping and shit shoveling chores, I decided to head into Berthoud to check in with the Library staff to see if they had any last minute instructions for the event next weekend.

I spoke with the sweet and lovely Sara, who was the one involved with bringing me in for the TWA book club event a few years back, and she explained that my Literary Festival appearance would again be in the same large room where they held the book club event. And then she directed me to a display table bearing some of my work.

Given that most Libraries seem reticent to display vulgar words, I was pleasantly surprised to see my literary middle child, KMAG (both Lisa and I are middle children) on the display of local writers works along with FJM and AAA.

I tried to capture a selfie, but then realized that my short arms were causing the photo to change the message to “REAM.”

I was afraid that this, along with the prominent view of the word “Ass”

would look like I was sending subliminal messaging. Could book banning be far off? It does wonders for book sales.

Sara, seeing my consternation with the results, offered to take the photo for me.

Much better, and more on message.

Thank you Sara.

Given that I was physically and psychologically committed to being off my tether, playing hooky, I then attempted to stop by the Lone Star Brewery to see if they could share what their vision for next week’s signing would hold.

Unfortunately, they were not yet open for the day, so I ambled into the adjacent store –

one of the wonderful curiosity shops a browser can find on the main and side streets of Berthoud (when everyone comes for that Literary Festival next weekend) – and stopped in and chatted with one of its employees – a charming, lovely, slim, silver haired lady of my vintage named Connie (originally from NJ) – the fifties knew how to make their women (including my wife) – not so good with the men (speaking only for myself), but that’s okay, never was interested –

https://www.bing.com/videos/riverview/relatedvideo?q=Jerry+signfeld+%22not+that+there%27s+anything+wrong+with+tht%22&mid=3CBAD54610374FEB5BFD3CBAD54610374FEB5BFD&FORM=VIRE

– not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Well after a wonderful chat where Connie explained that the owner of her shop also owns the brewery I asked her to put in a good word for me with the proprietress and left her an inscribed copy of TWA to offer a distraction during those more quiet hours in the shop.

And then, as I was heading back towards Casa Claire, I spotted an antique car show in the parking lot of Main Street Auto.

Where I take my Toyota Rav 4, yes the one from the books, and saw some muscular vintage cars of my vintage (from a time when I too was muscular).

I drove a far more beaten up version of that mustang on my campus rounds when I was a security guard on the midnight shifts at Mt. St. Vincent. One of the many perks of that job. There is a halfway decent photo of me in my security guard threads reading a book – thank you Mike Daly (brother of the Poet Laureate of Riverdale, Theresa Daly) – that can be found in the acknowledgements of FJM.

My friend Stein – yes also from the books –

was very successful in life and now collects these kinds of cars, which he drove throughout our misspent youth and are referenced throughout FJM in The Claire Saga.

And I met the Main Street Auto proprietor, my friend Larry, walking the event with a friend who is originally from Buffalo and a die hard Bills fan – I mentioned how Lisa is also a fan and offered my condolences – we had a lot of laughs so hopefully he’ll read my books.

And then I saw this, to remind me that time travel – literary and actual – is indeed possible.

And that I was enjoying a form of it.

I believe in synchronicity so that all of these east coast contacts and timely cars from my NYC youth were signs that next week my readings were bringing my new and old worlds together in this one fabulous place and time.

Anyway, when I got back into my Toyota, the sun landed just right on my left arm to remind me that my mystical belief system was indeed in play.

I Am a writer. I Am blessed. I Am happy to be me.

Neville Goddard is a visionary.

So, the Universe gave me the day off and allowed me to enjoy some free time travel and geospatial conjoinment without leaving Berthoud. Quantum entanglement at its most glorious.

And finally, when I returned to Casa Claire, I was met by my grans, who had spent their day out and about and morphing into kittens.

I told them to stay out of Springfield Ohio and sent them on their way.

Well, now. Sunday awaits us.

You five, fine readers sit back, have a full English/Irish breakfast with all the trimmings, as much coffee as your bladders will hold and then rest on God’s orders. Pick up a book if your NFL teams are not playing.

I Am going to go cuddle some kitties and make my rounds. Then top off some water troughs and take care of some other minor chores.

But whatever else we get up to, let us make today a great one.