Before March 17, 2007 I had little to believe in and had lost many of my ambitions in life. I had been “riding with the Grand Ennui,” and years of shameless boredom were about to catch up. In the months to follow I would regain all that I had lost, not from the result of joining a cult or getting abducted by aliens, but from something as simple as the reflection in a mirror.
After my band’s performance the evening of March 17th, I found myself toe-to-toe with a large, over-zealous police officer. This embarrassing state of affairs later placed me in the presence of a well-dressed attorney. He explained the charges weren’t that serious, because he considered the altercation to be simple entrapment. As I handed him a seriously substantial check, I understood what he meant by entrapment. I’m sure after I left his office he ordered a new nine-iron matching the bag of custom clubs behind his desk. I also recall he was out of the office for the next few weeks. I hope he found the accommodations at Pebble Beach to his liking. Later in court, I pleaded stupidity, and for my honesty, the gods and my attorney smiled on me and bid me adieu.
Then I lost my day job. That’s another story altogether which I choose not to expound upon at this time. Then matters became worse. I survived an accident that totaled my wife’s car. I found myself alone, surrounded by three fire trucks, five squad cars, and an ambulance hauling an elderly gentleman from the scene. His daughter, the driver of the other car, told me he’d recently had open-heart surgery. That said, before God and everybody, I was seriously close to wetting myself. Later I discovered his surgery had taken place three years ago, and he was being taken to the hospital for observation due to elevated blood pressure. No one checked my blood pressure that night, or I would have been sharing the gurney with him. Fortunately, no ticket was issued, and I headed home, retreating into my wife’s arms, sobbing like a little girl. What further tribulation lay ahead, I thought.
The next day I placed a mirror on our back porch facing the direction of what I considered to be the source of my anxiety in hopes of deflecting any further vile juju. Soon afterwards, the insurance company awarded us a check that more than covered the expense of the accident, and my wife was back on the road in a Mercedes, paid in full. Had the mirror worked? I recall the day I hung it, and how I found myself taking a long look into the glass. In the reflection I found the love of my wife and friends and realized that with their support, I had gained back my inner strength and ambitions. I believe the mirror worked, maybe not in the way I expected, but it worked. Eleven months of chaos is behind me, but the mirror still hangs on the back porch, as a reminder of what I believe, and how easily it can all be lost.
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