Chapter VIII (The Resurrected - A love story by Billy Shaw)

Erik's parents came over for dinner the next night. I served up a two and a half foot salmon I'd bought whole in the fish department at our local supermarket. We might have been in the middle of the Rockies but we were neither isolated nor provincial. I could have served fresh shark meat if I'd wanted. I did a dill sauce Amanda had turned me on to. I had also brought home the most fragrant flowers I could find, just to give our guests something else to smell besides fish.

Erik and Halli sat next to each other. They acted more like brother and sister than a young couple whose parents were meeting for the first time. But they were seven year old best friends and well below the age of anxieties and their mothers were best friends as well. It was the menfolk making acquaintance with each other for the first time. Erik looked alot like his father. And his father, quite frankly, looked alot like my own father. My own dad is much darker than I am, with dark hair and complexion, and dark eyes. My own darkness was always sun-induced, producing a caramel lustre that offset my light eyes. And everytime I got darker, my hair would get lighter. My eyebrows especially. I usually looked like the progeny of a disgruntled crewmember who might have jumped ship in Jamaica when they dropped off the slaves.

Erik's parents were named Isaac and Stephanie. Both of them were equally engaging in conversation and would pick up where the other one left off if nobody else wanted to say anything. In the first few minutes I'd met them, I could imagine any combination of the four of us carrying on dialogues about anything in animated fashion. I could tell why Halli was interested in Erik. Not her own private reasons of course, but I could see reasons. Between the six of us at the table, there was a chemistry that belied first-time acquaintance. And I was compelled to like Erik. He was a bright and engaging little boy. Nowhere near the perky little smartass I was at his age.

"How did you cook the fish, Billy? It's delicious!" Stephanie asked as if she needed to know by tomorrow night.

"I wrapped it in tinfoil and ran it through the dishwasher." I replied with a smile.

"Really?"

"Cleaned and cooked at the same time! Pure genius!" Isaac said.

"Thanks, Isaac. I learned it from my Mom."

"Call me Ike." he said.

"And I'm Steffi." his wife added happily.

"Exchanging nicknames over an introductory meal is an ancient native tradition." explained Ike. "To be welcomed into one's home and introduced by nickname is the height of hospitality and the mark of friendship, Cassandra and William." he said with a smile and held his glass of wine out ceremoniously. "Here's to Dawn and Billy. Thanks for having us over, you guys."

"Is that really an ancient native tradition or did you just make it up?" Steffi asked with a giggle.

"Oh, I just made it up. But doesn't it sound venerable, Stef?" he said to her. And he clinked his glass to hers.

"What does venerable mean, Dad?" Erik asked.

"Old and well respected, Erik. Like your grand-daddy." his father explained.

"Where are you guys from?" I asked.

"I'm from Eagle County. I grew up about thirty miles from here. Steffi's from Grand Junction." Ike said. "Both of our families have been in the area since before the Civil War."

"Do either of you ski?" I asked.

"We both ski cross-country. Erik does, too. Don't you honey?" Steffi said and addressed her son.

"Yes Ma'am." He offered politely and returned to making designs on his plate with fish and a fork and Halli's help. It wasn't classical table manners but it seemed to keep the two of them busy.

"Look Erik! Here's a bird." and Halli made a line in the design with her knife. Then she placed a sprig of parsley on top and they both stared at it intently.

"So Billy. Your mother is Amanda Shannon, right? I've read some of her books." Ike said.

"Yes. That venerable woman would be my mom." I replied.

"She's not old, Daddy!" Halli protested.

"Is she... respected?" Erik asked.

"She's on television! Everybody loves her!" Halli explained to Erik.

"Everything she says seems to make so much sense." Steffi said. "I've read all her books."

"So you guys are that interested in love?" I asked with a wry smile.

"Believe it or not, I've actually talked to her before. On the telephone. She called me up a few years ago when I was working in the Department of Anthropology." Ike said. "She said she was researching native American attitudes on love and bonding. What attracted me to her interest was her perspective. She seemed as interested in modern attitudes as in the historical. It was the first time I'd ever heard of anyone addressing the issue. A very special woman. Very interesting."

"Then he came home and told me about it." Steffi added. "I had some of her books already and showed Ike a couple."

"Did you read them?" Dawn asked.

"Ike even went out and bought his own copies." she said.

"I like paperback versions because they pack easier when I'm out in the field." he explained.

"Have you ever met her?" I asked.

"No. But I'd love to have the chance. I'm not sure she'd remember me, though."

"She'll remember you once she meets Erik." I said confidently.

"Really? They do make such a pretty couple, don't they?" Steffi said. Halli reached out and gave Erik a peck on the cheek and they both went back to what they were doing. His plate was starting to look like something in a buffet line.

"Tam, honey. Maybe you can let Erik finish eating his food now. OK?" Dawn said.

"OK Mommy. But isn't it pretty? It looks just like a little forest. Here, Erik. Eat a tree." and she held a piece of asparagus up to his lips and he munched on it.

Once Halli had managed to hand-feed her little disciple enough food to qualify for a meal, Dawn took both of them into the kitchen and showed them how to scoop sherbet. And then how to sculpt it. They both looked like they were discovering crayons or fingerpainting. Then they went about creating dessert and Dawn came back to the table.

"So how's life in the medical profession, Dawn?" Steffi asked. "Are you enjoying the new job?"

"It's too much fun! Everybody there's a hoot. The patients and the staff. Especially the patients."

"Have any of them recognized their nurse the film star?" she asked.

"No. Besides, they're all way more famous than I've ever been. Some of them were actually on TV when they banged themselves up. And there's this football player who nearly ripped his leg off on national TV. They keep showing reruns of his play on the sportschannel and every time it's on he covers his face with a pillow but everybody else in the room watches it and makes grunting noises and says things like 'ooh that's gotta hurt' and 'unbelievable' and stuff. And then they all sit around comparing scars. It's some kind of bonding ritual. Even the women get in on the act. There's this tennis player who's shoulder looks like a cutting board."

"But you're healing them with a therapeutic touch?" Steffi asked.

"Yeah. They're already sliced and diced by the time it's my turn."

"More like a dessert beneficial to their dining experience." I observed.

"Helps their digestion." Dawn added.

"Do they tip the waitress?" Steffi asked. "Do these guys ever harass the help?"

"Not like the kitchen staff." Dawn replied. "Some of the visiting doctors can be obnoxious adolescents. But our paying guests are world-class gentlemen."

"Didn't you dine there once?" Ike asked.

"Indeed. I had my knee reconstructed. But then I went to New York for plastic surgery to cover the scars. Turns out I needed my skin as much as I needed the kneejoint." Dawn said.

"So you know what it's like to lay there in bed and stare at the ceiling." Ike said.

"Wondering whether I'll ever walk again much less ski. Yes, I've been there. That's one of the reasons they hired me."

"Do you ever think about missing the olympics? After all these years?" Ike asked.

"I think about it now and again. More when I'm around patients than when I'm around you guys or my family." Dawn answered. "I wasn't anywhere close to world-class even when I was competing, so it's not like I lost a medal when I blew out my knee. But I wound up in Florida for rehabilitation and discovered other interests."

"And do you like teaching skiing? More than say, patrolling?" Ike asked.

"It's OK. Keeps me on the snow. It's more polite than ski patrolling. That's more Billy's rap. Teaching is more... performance oriented. Like putting on a show twice a day." and she turned and shot me a wink.

"It's all a performance to me." I said. "In either case I have to act like I know what I'm doing."

"That's because you're a snowboarder. First you pretend like it's really a sport, then you pretend like you can ride."

"Well it's either that or slide down the hill on my butt into the parking lot." I said. "Besides. Nobody cares if it's a sport or not. As long as we can look good while we're pretending. As long as we feel cool doing it. Like surfing. We simply need cool icons. People who remind the world we're cool and beautiful people."

"Ah! Like Kelly Stone." Ike said.

"You follow snowboarding?" I asked somewhat surprised.

"No. Erik came home one day and said Halli's dad is teaching some woman to ride like a woman. I thought he was talking about Dawn until he explained it to me."

"Oh? How did he explain it?" I asked. Dawn's interest was equally piqued.

"He said Halli said that you said the world would love this girl who would learn to ride like a woman. I didn't have the slightest idea what any of you were talking about. I still don't but that's OK. Somebody might dig up the artifacts in about five hundred years and make up some simplistic theory about a bizarre cultural nuance and then explain it to my great-great-great-great-grand-children and then test them on it and give them a grade. I just hope my progeny don't have entrance boards riding on any of this."

"That's actually pretty clever, Ike." Dawn said with a smile. "But after the age of global warming, none of this is going to make any sense to them. An icefield is probably going to be as improbable to them as the notion of a halfpipe. Are there similar improbabilities in your own work?"

"Who knows? Maybe some of it. Maybe all of it. But in my work, a living oral body of reasonable explanations keeps most explanations reasonable. That's what I admire most about native American tradition. It's a reasonable culture fashioned by reasonable people. The truths about these people's traditions are cloaked in the reasonable. That's a fair litmus test of a reasonable explanation in my line of work. Contrast this with our own traditions, say religious or political. Most of it is unreasonable even when you're sitting there watching the very events unfold. They're incomprehensible even to their own witnesses. Especially Washington. So it's no mystery these native peoples weren't in any position to understand the events that shaped their lives. Even 'We the people', the very wellspring of the powers of our republic, don't have a clue what the heck goes on in a place like that. We watch TV and sit there slackjawed while our appointed leaders sell us crap that they probably don't understand any more than we do."

"Isaac! Be nice!" his wife admonished.

"It's quite OK, Steffi." I reassured her. "Ike's preaching to the choir. To me, that's, uh... quite reasonable. Would you say then, Ike, that a society's complexity is defined by its apparent unreasonableness to an outsider?"

"No I wouldn't, Billy." he said. "Change the word complexity to the word sociopathy and I'd agree with you entirely. Then everything you've just proposed to me would be true. Remember, man. Most indigenous cultures don't develop a tradition of writing. Writing obscures the oral traditions in ways even anthropologists don't readily understand. Once they end up having to read it, even a society's insiders start having problems comprehending their own traditions. For instance, our leaders go on television and start reading their speeches. They make as little sense to us hearing it as when we read it the next day in the newspaper. It's incomprehensible from the moment the words are committed to paper by anonymous speechwriters. It's the way we do business but it's pathological. Am I still being nice, Stef?"

"You're being honest, Ike. And that's better than being nice." I said before she had a chance to answer. "But let's explore the hypothesis. Native Hawaiians fashioned long pieces of wood into surfboards and developed a tradition of riding breakers back to shore. To an outsider it's a ludicrous waste of precious wood. See what I'm getting at?"

"But people all over the world surf." Dawn interjected. "And all over the world, people who don't surf just don't get it. Talking to them doesn't do it. They have to get in the water themselves and discover any of the basic truths involved for themselves. By actually sharing in the tradition. Is that what you're saying, Ike?"

"Of course. Can you imagine discovering a surfboard five hundred years after the oceans have dried up or frozen over and trying to make any sense of the artifact? It would be even more improbable than trying to explain to some gaper on the beach what the heck you're doing even as he watches you do it."

"Oh! I get what you're saying." I said. "You can't share your tradition with him unless you take him in the water. Even giving him a well-written book on the subject won't clear it up for him. He'd be clueless until he participates."

"Let me ask you this, Billy." Ike said by way of an answer. "Do you think after people have read your mother's expertly written books about love that any one of these readers can understand even her first words on the subject without having to participate in some fashion? And she's considered an authority on the subject. Who gave her that much credit? The people who understand love or the people who stand clueless?"

"You're treading on the thin ice of love, my man." I said. "The more you participate in her subject, the more clueless you can become. Who would you rather depend on to help you free yourself from the tangled webs of a vicious spider? The poor schmuck stuck there next to you or the one who has the good sense to stay clear of the webbing?"

"Let me try and answer my own question." I continued when I counted to a polite three in my own head. "Amanda is every bit the Grandmother of the Light she would have been in a simpler society five hundred years before the advent of writing. She wouldn't have gone to war yet she would have blessed and healed our warriors. She would have sent them off and watched them come home again. She would have been revered for her advanced position in the simple community of illiterates that forms our tribe. But alas, Gutenburg was born first, and Amanda doesn't think any differently than you do. Really. But she manipulates images and stands clear of the webbing, and loathes the vicious spider as much as you do. So how is she different now that she's learned to write? She writes about love and bonding between the primordial aspects of two human beings and then addresses potential pathologies as exist in the medulla oblongatas beneath cerebral cortex within biological entities. And then she goes on television and speaks her mind without her Cliffs Notes. Heck... she wrote the textbook. But words don't keep her in business. Not even tribes. Two people at a time keep Mom in business. Wherever there is a bonding love. That's where you'll find the lurking spider."

If ever I had a special gift, it was the gift of truism. I will never get over that fact that I can continue to get away with it. Nobody ever calls me on it once I get started. I learned it from Amanda. She taught me that if enough people can't readily comprehend your truisms, then they'll buy your books, understand half of what you're saying, and label it all Truth. And you get to keep the credit.

"Wow! That's so true!" Steffi said.

"Don't get bamboozled, Stef. That's so Billy is more to the point." and Dawn gave me the same look Steffi had given her own husband a few minutes before.

"No Dawn. He's right. Billy's saying that some things transcend cultural sociopathy and that love's one of them." Ike said with a smile hoping I'd catch the subtle sarcasm.

"Well at least Mom seems to think so." I said. "After all, if she didn't think everybody's got problems, she wouldn't have called you in the first place." and I smiled back.

"Hey you guys! Check this out! Erik and me are ready for dessert! Here it comes!" and Halli and Erik brought out a flower vase in which they'd arranged a half dozen perfectly round spheres of sherbet each impaled on its own foot long fondue fork by the handle with the pointy forked end in the bottom of the vase.

"You can't take them out of the vase, OK?" Erik said.

"Yeah! We all have to eat them by licking them like flowers in a vase! Just like we're sniffing them!" Halli explained.

She put the arrangement in the middle of the table and invited us to start a communal licking process like she and Erik were doing. So we all did as we were told and we licked and laughed and whacked each other in the head a bunch of times.

"No! Do it from underneath like this, Dad!" Erik offered. "Then it doesn't melt and fall off the stick!"

"If I finish mine first, I'll help you with yours, Daddy! OK?" Halli asked.

A coupla times we'd get our tongues stuck on the cold icy globes. When it happened to two or more of us at a time, we'd start making simultaneous grunting sounds like a primordial tribe of illiterate sherbet eaters working our way toward a common set of fondue forks. Every coupla licks the whole arrangement would shift in the vase and it wasn't possible to know just whose you were licking from one minute to the next.

After dinner, Erik and Halli disappeared into her room. Steffi helped Dawn with the table and the dishes. But us guys were invited to relax and not do any of the clearing or cleaning. Or perhaps instructed would be a more accurate description. So I accompanied Ike out to the porch and asked him to hold tight for a minute or two.

I returned to him bearing the partially finished miniature tapestry that I had been caretaking since Sedona.

"Hey man. Take a look at this. I got it from Amanda."

"Interesting! Hmm. Nobody bothers with this artform anymore. It's practically forgotten. Are you familiar with the motif?"

"I was told it's called The Resurrected pattern. Can you tell me more about it, Ike?"

"Sure. Do you want a short explanation or the long drawn out version?"

"Tell me everything you can. We'll make more time if it's a two hour lecture."

"It's not a two hour lecture. It's more like a six month course of study. But I can give you the highlights. I studied as much about this type of pattern as I could a long time ago. But it's ancient and obscure. There's as much guesswork involved as there is confirmed knowledge."

"Confirmed knowledge. An interesting phrase. I like it!"

"In ancient times, say, earlier than about a thousand A.D., or prior to our recollections of the Fremont settlers, there were two classifications of indigenous cultures. There were the Wanderers. And there were the Settled. Most Wanderers were destined to become the Settled. In the course of their wanderings, people developed a set of mythologies regarding constellations that described roadmaps. A crude form of celestial navigation, if you will. When properly conveyed and comprehended, a Storyteller could lead his tribe on annual and even perrenial treks that got people from point A to point B and back again with relative precision. As did many of their seafaring counterparts in the Polynesias. When these Wanderers became the Settled, they changed the emphasis of their mythologies to reflect more contemporary needs and thus were born the traditions of the petroglyphs. This is in part why they are so inscrutable today. The petroglyphs of this era were changing as the mythologies were changing. With me so far?"

"Oh! So that's why common symbologies throughout the Southwest are common, and yet escape a common interpretation!" I said.

"Precisely. The constellations that comprise the vocabulary of the petroglyph were obviously fixed in their representations, but the modern archaeologist must determine from surrounding clues whether the artists were Wanderers or Settled. Not an easy task when most of the surrounding areas have been flooded for irrigation reservoirs..."

"Or quarried for dinosaur bones."

"Perfect. So you've been to some of the sites. Of the coupla thousand identifiable works of art investigated, only a few dozen unique symbols stand on their own as phoneticly distinct. They would appear to be the same constellations from site to site. And yet they evade interpretation. So we interpret them as both Wanderer and Settled. And rely upon the more reasonable of the two to assign the more reasonable interpretation. Still with me?"

"Go on."

"When navigational interpretations appear more superfluous than informative, a new set of interpretations emerges."

"How to conduct one's life in the absence of constant travel."

"Again, perfect. So life in the village and even more compelling, life within the bonds of a family relationship becomes themes from which their inspirations are derived."

"Ah! Like the Bible or the Koran."

"Right on. So at some point in Fremont development, they decide to commit their instructions to the very clothes they wear. Etching it on rocks was very well and good. But they required more personalized expressions and they began to weave their inspirations directly into their wardrobes. Thus was born the Tradition of the Patterns."

"Like patterns for love and relationships?"

"Yes! And patterns for death and loss and ultimately for healing and rebirth. And thus the Pattern of the Resurrected."

"This pattern was a set of instructions?" I asked. This would be new.

"No. In fact, the pattern of the Resurrected was more akin to photographic journalism. It was simply a statement of fact. A set of observations. A role model, if you will. Properly interpreted, it said simply Be like this. Flow to the center of now. And produce a new set of tapestries when the the old pattern is deemed irrelevent to the present. Not that it would be considered irrelevent to your memories. But that a new pattern would be required to continue living. But these were practical people. Today, we keep records and files of people's current status. Like our credit or our criminal records. Back then, they were more concerned with your personal and family life. And they kept track of who and where you thought you were on the basis of your Flow. Patterns were self-produced. Or commissioned on your behalf. Everything in your pattern was your own interpretation of who and where you thought you needed to be. Or so we believe on the basis of our limited evidence."

"And the Resurrected pattern?"

"To be mated and betrothed to your partner was perceived to be the beginning of life. Not just yours or your partners, but the tribe's as well. Your togetherness and the fulfillment of that promise was the business and the property of everyone. In a ceremony that might approximate our own rites of betrothal, the couple would be reborn into a special entity to be revered and respected by the entire tribe. It was akin to a birthing ceremony. Very similar in fact. But minus the introduction of a new soul into the tribe, they called this a rebirth, since both partners had been born once already. To be born a second time, they thought that death should occur. Death to oneself. And in fact such a ritual demise was incorporated into the ceremony. So in the process of birth, death, and rebirth, a pattern was developed to reflect resurrection. Being reborn as a couple."

"Did they believe in multiple resurrections?" I asked.

"I'm getting there. But not yet. Even indigenous primitives fall in love. And with such love would and could emerge the promise and fulfillment of loss. Of grieving. Of jealousy. Of betrayal. Of all the things we know of love today. It's universal. As you were want to remind me over your dinner table. And as with all things human, nothing stays the same. The tribe knew your business because it was their business. The tribe knew your position within a tapestry as well as you did. When anything changed, these people could identify their place within the tapestry. When life proceeded according to a pattern of their choosing, they had a roadmap on which they could identify their location in life. Often times it was on their very clothing. When catastrophic change invariably occurred, as in the death or abandonment of a spouse, the pattern would be redrawn and the clothing modified or replaced to reflect the new pattern. But the pattern of the Resurrected was reserved for the creation of a new life relationship. In a sense, it was a family pattern in the same sense that a set of wedding bands would be such a pattern were our rings anything other than nondescript and meaningless bands of metal."

"So a couple would share a single pattern?"

"Yes."

"Would both partners participate in the creation of their pattern?"

"This we don't know. There is evidence to suggest that one partner might create a pattern and then propose it to the other. But we really don't know that for a fact. What would you prefer to believe? What would seem more reasonable?"

"I'd prefer to believe that different couples could either surprise each other or work conjointly, depending on their styles of courtship."

"Yes. That would appear reasonable. Yet no one knows. It's not a burning issue in the field. At least, no one was burning with curiousity about it until I talked to Amanda Shannon. She seemed to approach the subject the same way you do. There isn't an entrenched dogma about courtship in ancient native America. By the same token, there really wasn't one in the Semitic tradition either. So who's to say that a bunch of these tribespeople were all of a sudden willing to commit to structured dating practices in the absence of any other structures even approximating the body of laws to emerge elsewhere? It wouldn't be reasonable. So I for one would conclude they were pretty lax about it."

"So a pre-Anasazi Michaelangelo might have a different dating style than his Perry Mason contemporary?"

"Surely. There's always at least one prospective lawyer in any tribe. That's usually the one who literally begs for more law. And it's usually the guy who got jilted and feels somebody owes him something. After all, where do you think the motivation for law comes from? Nobody could honestly organically demand law with his soul. It's unnatural. Don't you think?"

"Amen bro. I'm with it all the way."

"So the Resurrected motif would stand on behalf of a society that didn't know from lawyers and licenses and divorce court. It was an expression from the soul. All people cared about was knowing where you stood in your tapestry. It's almost that simple. And it made for good artwork. Just as it does in your hand right there." and he nodded at the tapestry I was holding.

"Almost that simple?"

"Nothing approaches Utopia. After all..."

"It's love between people."

"Perfect. You're flowing. You understand the Pattern. I figured it you would. That's why there's more than one. But these weren't fickle primitives. They took their obligations very seriously. Much more so than an imposed set of arbitrary legislation. That's what I love about the tradition. Their heritage. They were organic. At least until they were compromised."

"You mean corrupted."

"No. White men were corrupted. These men were compromised."

"Interesting! I believe Amanda sees it the same way."

"Anyone who studies the subject will see it the same way."

"So what do you see as the single most compromising influence brought in from the outside?" I asked.

"In a word?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Everything." he answered. "Everything from their foreign theologies to their inherent propensities to lie about anything they could lie about. That they could lie in the name of their lord would be as compromising as their liquors and their snakeoils. But they lie to themselves when they run out of anybody else to lie to. The Cult of the Liar should be America's lasting legacy. They lie to everybody. Especially themselves. I'm not even sure one can be a believing christian without cultivating a heritage of falsehood within oneself. Facing your own truths is an evident trick of the devil. It's a message I've heard from more than one of their bully pulpits. And the very existence of a devil in their theologies only serves to externalize the very truths they should be facing internally. But they can't. Because they lie. This is what compromised these people. This is what had already corrupted the outsiders."

"So you're saying that native Americans were simply not used to being lied to?"

"Exactly. Their spirits wouldn't lie. And they wouldn't lie. They'd go to war against each other before they would lie to each other. Even the concept was foreign to them."

"So how come they didn't adapt to it? They adapted to the introduction of horses." I asked.

"Horses are natural beings. A lie is not natural unless you're white. You've rather answered your own question."

"Man, it must break your heart to see this country possessed by a bunch of liars."

"Billy, at this point it breaks my heart to see the entire planet possessed in such a manner. As a single entity, as a human race, we're not a happy people. But hey. Get practiced enough in the Cult of the Liar and you can start telling yourself how happy you are. But more important, get your children to start practicing the lie and it might work for one more generation."

"Until the children rebel and reject the lie?"

"Hmm. That's a hard one. In the absense of demonstrated truth, children are want to rebel and reject almost anything. Whether it's a lie or not. That's one portion of the reservation. The rest of the populace simply turns inward and destroys itself. One psyche at a time. One miserable dejected psyche at a time. It's an historical precedent to thermonuclear deterrence. It works alright. But it works on everybody. Nobody lives on half a dead planet. Even the good half. But that leaves a gap in the historic explanation. What did this country do when it settled its slavery issue once and for all?"

"Turned west and started killing Indians."

"See any real difference?"

"No. But I see some glaring economic similarities."

"And what did they do once the Indian was subdued?"

"Turned inward and started killing the land itself. First with coalmines and then with the coal they procured."

"And then?"

"The trees started dieing and we can't seem to keep paint on our cars."

"And that, Billy, is about all she wrote. We can't flow to the middle of the pattern because the pattern doesn't map out either a flow or a middle. We have a new pattern. A pattern of Desurrection. Everything flows to the end of the cloth and over the edge to nothingness. That's the definition of despair. That's pure nihilism. When you see the pattern of Desurrection, think of death because that's all it can possibly represent. There is no resurrection from a lifeless pattern. Any more than a rock can expect a viable rebirth."

"You're not being very cheery about this. Is the concept of Nihilism evident in native society?"

"It's not present in indigenous form anywhere on the planet. It's a child of the Industrial Revolution. It's a white legacy. It's the poison for which Resurrection is powerless."

"What's the opposite of Nihilism? Optimism?" For myself at least, I knew I had long since found the answer. But it was a personal commitment and would only work for optimistic people.

"Respect. That would be a native American response. Respect for one's elders and respect for one's progeny. There can be nothing else without such respect. Respect for the earth would come naturally if one properly respected both the elders and the children."

"And oneself? How does one properly respect oneself?" I asked.

"If you respect your elders, then you cannot lie. If you respect your children, then you cannot lie. If you respect your contemporaries as you'd have them respect you, then you cannot lie. If you do all of these things, then you would respect yourself. This is the whole point of the pattern of the Resurrected. You wore it or displayed it in full view of the community. In full view of your elders and your children. Lastly, you wore or displayed it for your own benefit. But never before everyone else could see it plainly. That's where an individual's respect derived. No one would believe it possible to be honest with oneself if that person couldn't be honest with the world around him."

"Oh! So partial or selective duplicity wouldn't be an option."

"It wasn't even a concept."

"So it made for more honest relationships? Were they more successful?"

"Divorce was an option. These people could fall out of favor or fail to bear children or be unfaithful or uncooperative. But not fifty percent of them. Maybe a few per tribe per generation. And the unfaithful didn't know to lie about it. They generally became betrothed to the offending party. Few questions were asked. The tapestry pattern would be burned and either forgotten about or its ashes given to the people involved. They could scatter them to the winds if they chose to."

"So for the most part, people were happy to be resurrected because it meant being loved?" I whinced at myself knowing I couldn't have been more Halli if I'd gotten down on my knees and said it four feet off the ground.

"It meant being coupled in the eyes of the tribe. Being loved was an issue between the couple themselves. But the tribe could always tell. I mean, you can certainly tell nowadays and how much can things change between men and women in the span of a single millennium?"

From the porch we could see our women and children bearing down on the hot tub with a fierce nomadic determination.

"Wanna rejoin the tribe, kinsman?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sounds great. Thanks for having us over, Billy. Steffi said I'd like you. I hope you don't mind the diatribe."

"Hey. It's diatribalism for a new millennium. People should get with the program or get off the spaceship."

"Stories to navigate the stars by. About goddamned time, huh?"

"Wanna go sit in that hot tub over there? The one with the beautiful looking families in it?" I asked.

"Yeah! We can call it a form of water bonding. That has a nice ring to it." Ike said.

Then two full families wedged themselves into the glowing green waters and the water bonding began. One thing I was learning about Dawn my new wife was her desire to be close to me once immersed in water. Whether or not anyone else was around, she turned on the closeness whenever we were together in the hot tub. Steffi sat casually next to Ike with his arm over her shoulder. Halli and Erik hopped over the side of the hot tub and jumped into the real swimming pool. They both liked to swim and they abandoned the cramped little tub in favor of the open waters.

We hung out and talked until Steffi decided it was time for Erik to go home. We all went upstairs to dry off and change clothes. Dawn and Halli walked our guests down to their car and I stayed behind. We agreed to get together again sometime during an upcoming weekend and maybe do a picnic when the weather was nice. Erik and Halli sounded like they wanted to go skiing this weekend if Dawn or I would take them. It had been a fabulous evening and I felt comfortable around my new friends.

Then the phone rang.

"Hello!" I said cheerfully but without a clue who I would be talking to.

"Is this Billy?" came a man's voice on the other end.

"Maybe. Who's this?"

"It's Jerry, man. From your old ski patrol. Remember me?"

"Oh yeah! Another tele'er! So how's it going, Jerry?! Are you back east or out here in snow country?"

"I'm in Virginia. Are you still skiing out there?"

"For another few weeks or maybe a month. They keep saying July fifth but they always say that. The snowpack's pretty solid though. What's the good word?"

"Congratulations, for one thing. I heard you got married! Life must be pretty sweet, huh?"

"Intoxicating is more like it. She's the most wonderful woman I've ever met, man. You'd dig the hell out of her. Really! And I got me a seven year old daughter! It turns out she's actually really my daughter! Is that wild or what?! And we've got another one on the way. How about you?"

It didn't even occur to me at the time to tell him he could see what she looks like by scoring a copy of Cosmo. The one with my wife's picture on the front. But by the same token, I didn't go out and buy a boxful of the magazines either. Or maybe I did and I'll never admit it.

"I need your help on something. I need your advice."

"OK. Shoot."

"I'm intoxicated too, as you put it. I met the woman of my dreams and I fell totally head over heels in love. I mean completely taken. I've never been here before and it's fucking with my head more than any acid I ever took. You probably know what I mean."

"It must be pretty serious for you to get on the phone and start calling your old friends. That's pretty high school, man. So what's the problem?"

"I'm only calling you because I know you're married now and I can approach you about some stuff without the reservations I'd have if you were still single."

"Marital advice? You're thinking about getting married? Anybody I know?"

"I'm not calling you for marital advice. I'm calling you because I know you're not still seeing her."

"Oh?"

"If I said young and gorgeous and she's a doctor..."

"Oh."

"It was so great in the beginning, man! I mean it was everything I ever thought I could get out of life!"

"And?"

"She cut me off. In silence. No calls. No explanations. No nothing. I gotta talk to somebody, man. And you're the only person I can turn to."

"Why me?"

"Because of your friends here, man. You've got some great friends you share yourself with. I've taken to doing the same thing with pretty much the same people. But nobody will talk about this. It's like there's a brick wall there or some kind of secret society where people get sworn to silence. I kinda suspected you guys were seeing each other once but nobody will say anything about it. Or about her. After you went back to Colorado she started coming onto me and it just developed from there. But even our closest friends won't discuss her. So what's going on? I gotta get things clear about her or I'll go crazy. I'm losing my mind here, man. Help me!"

"What kind of help are you looking for, Jerry? What can I really do for you?"

"Did she dump you, man? Did she play this number on you?"

"She is very beautiful, isn't she. I'll bet you've got a raging collection of chemicals in your blood that makes life a very different place now that you've been affected, huh."

"Exactly! So you've been there."

"I've been in love. It happens."

"She can't leave me like this!"

"Are you aware that her ex-husband's been killed in a biking accident? Maybe this isn't the best of times for her."

"I saw the note, Billy. I was working rescue squad when it happened."

"Oh really." Now that was more interesting than anything else he'd said so far. More than just interesting. More on the order of a planetary alignment.

"Talk to me, man." he said.

"OK, Jer. You want advice? The best advice I can give you?"

"Yes!"

"Don't kill yourself over a woman. Not her and not anybody else."

"OK. What else?"

"What else is there? Preserve yourself to your own satisfaction."

"Are you still affected? You know what I mean."

"Dude, I've got a whole new set of affections. I mean, I gotta get a job because I'm a husband and a father and I need to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. I've got a family to raise. A beautiful and wonderful family! I wouldn't look back if a freight train full of gold was right behind me! I'm in love, dude. L. O. V. E. With a woman and a little girl. Nothing else matters."

"Am I gonna be able to forget her? How the hell did you do it?"

"Jerry, man. I'm married to Cassandra Hallidey. I can forget about anybody!" It was a card I knew I'd play sometime and I'd do it with the same relish as flipping four aces onto the table. Maybe even five.

"Prick. And you hang out with Kelly Stone in your spare time!"

"Pretty fly, huh?"

"So you can afford to have some pity here. Help me, man. What do I do?"

"OK. Try this on for size. You're a grownup. I know this because I know you. Now stay that way. Preserve your integrity. Maintain your set of values. Grow within yourself. Be aware of who you are and either be comfortable with it or grow. Find likeminded adult partners. Be optimistic. Hold a clear course until you know you're where you want to be. Respect yourself. Respect your environment. Should I stop now or need I continue?"

"You haven't said one word to me about her. Not one. You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?"

"Dude. You probably know her better than I do. I oughta be asking you the questions."

"Are you jealous of me? Is that it? Are you having trouble letting her go?"

"No my friend. I'm having trouble letting her stay. She doesn't know I'm married, you know. She doesn't run in the same circles as we do. And my friends are even more adamantly elusive about discussing me with her than they are discussing her with you. I can promise you that. And since you and I are friends, can I expect the same commitment from you? Can I?"

"Alright. It's an easy enough commitment to make since she and I don't seem to talk anymore. She avoids me. I just don't understand it. I thought my whole world was going to change. I really thought my life was about to become complete. I really did."

"My life changed too, Jer. My life became complete. It happened before I knew what really hit me. These things happen. The first thing I know I'm in the center of a tapestry prepared just for me. All the patterns flow to the center of the fabric. And the next thing I know, I'm in the middle of the place I always wanted to be. You think your life sucks because you wake up in the morning and you're lost? Just wait until that one special morning when you wake up and you're as found as a human being can be! It happens both ways. Now relax and wait for that special dawn. It might just happen. It might not, but why compromise yourself sometime during the night? Be yourself, Jerry. You were always a cool person. That's why she was attracted to you. She even told me that once herself. Stay cool and let her fret the process. That's what I do with my seven year old daughter because I'm the adult."

"But why all the secrecy about her? Our ski patrol is such a gossipy organization. But nobody's ever said one goddamned word about the two of you as a couple. Not even to me. Why? Is there something I don't know?"

"Why? Because these people are our friends, Jerry. And these people are adults. We're a tight family where each of us feels the others' pains. You know what I'm talking about. We all love each other. And each of us knows that a word misspoken is a word running around loose. And it can only serve to harm someone. None of us wants to hurt anyone. But she's a green patroller still learning to fill a volunteer position created for weekend warriors from the city. Which is how we all met her in the first place, right? You and I have been there a long time and you've been there alot longer than I have. And we aren't weekend volunteers. We're fulltime professional patrol staff and we take care of ourselves when we're not training the new ones. Are you with me? I mean, really with me here?"

"Yeah."

"This is important. I want to be certain here. How are you interpreting what I'm saying? I mean, really saying. Do it in a single sentence, man."

"She's new to the scene but we know her well enough and the damage has been done so there's no sense adding insult to injury and hurting either one of us or her even more."

"Alright Jer! We're on the beam here, buddy! I might live in Colorado through the next millennium but I'll always be able to return there as a member of that family. I earned it by being a reliable and loving member. Continue to be that way yourself and you'll find the same level of discretion when your patrol family finds out you want it that way. They're not intimate with everybody. But they'll share it with anyone who can share it in return. That's your gossipy organization. You should appreciate this even more than I do since you helped shape it. Now use it to your satisfaction and preserve yourself."

"I guess you're right. No. I know you're right. But it denies my issue."

"No it doesn't. It forgives your issue. You should address the issue all you want. It's just that nobody will talk about your issues except with you. Unless you want it differently. We're your family, man. We won't dick you around. Really. But understand the position I'm in. Nobody needs to be hurt any more than they deserve. I would hate to see that happen. I really would."

"Billy. Should I call her? Should I keep telling her how I feel?"

"That's up to you, man. I wouldn't keep putting her on the spot though. I think she hates that kind of shit. But I'm not a woman."

"So what do I do? Just let it go?"

"Man, you keep asking me this shit like I'm some kind of expert on the subject. If I were, you and I wouldn't even be having this conversation right now!"

"Thanks, man. Can I call you sometime when I need to?"

"Always. You can even come out and visit. You'd fit right in. You're gonna dig my family alot, man. I'll even introduce you to Kelly and her old man. She got married at the same time we did!"

"Thanks, Billy. I'll stay in touch."

"I know you will. Tell everybody I said hello! OK?"

"Sure thing, man. See ya."

Dawn was standing right next to me by the time I got off the phone.

"Wow! Are you running a lonely hearts club?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes even the big dog's gotta get told to stay on the porch."

"A good friend?"

"Brethren in arms, as it were. He got snowed in by a fast moving cold front."

"So she hasn't sent him his own peace lillies yet?"

"Goddammit Woman how do you do that?! You're even scarier than Amanda! How do yuo do that?! Tell me!"

"OK Husband. I'll tell you but you have to swear to absolute girl secrecy. Promise?"

"Promise! Now tell me!"

"Actually, I learned it from Ike. But since he's a guy I turned it around backwards. First I create the most improbable set of hypotheses I can dream up. Then I go with the most improbable one in the set. It seems to work with guys."

"And that works with me?"

"I don't know yet. It seems to work with your friends. But you're even more improbable than I am so sometimes my set can be incomplete."

"Maybe we're the two most improbable people on the planet and our destiny is so improbable that it can't help but be fulfilled. Ya know?"

"I know I love you and that's my destiny." she said and took my hand.

"Then I'll share that destiny with you because I love you, Dawn. That's when improbable becomes undeniable."

"You know, Billy. I heard some of your conversation. I have a fair idea what you guys were talking about. At first I wanted to leave the room because I didn't want to embarrass you."

"And?"

"I stayed because I've never heard a man maintain his integrity like that. I stayed because I was beginning to realize that you're not the type of man to be embarrassed when you're maintaining yourself to that degree. And I was falling in love with you all over again."

"And?"

"Well I'll be honest. I was interested in one thing. I stayed because I wanted to know if you'd break down and trash her."

"Well?"

"I respect you even more now than before. And I had a healthy respect for you before I managed to hear this. You're more than improbable, Billy. You're a grownup. I managed to marry a grownup."

"Pleased?"

"Fulfilled. And completed. I'm at the center of my tapestry. Halli's in bed. Now let's go be grownups! After all, I'm Cassandra Hallidey... You can forget about anybody!" She took my face into her hands and started to lick me. First on the lips and then around my cheeks. "But not me. Promise you'll never forget about me. Promise me."

"I've got to show you something. Then I'll promise."

We went into the bedroom and I retrieved a small box from a drawer on my side of the dresser.

"Check this out. I've got two of them."

Dawn opened the box and saw them. Two gold bands identical in appearance. Emerald and white diamond encrusted swirled patterns that resembled the boiling waters of our hot tub. Her jaw went slack and started to quiver. There was a third item in the box. A small pendant in the same design on a white gold chain.

"We get the rings. Our daughter gets the necklace." I reached into the box and took one of the rings to place on her finger. "They're the same size. We both wear the same size. Isn't that cool?"

As I placed it onto her finger she reached up to kiss me and I'll never know just how long we maintained the kiss. It could have been forever. In my own mind the kiss never ended. But within our embrace, she managed to put the other ring onto my finger and once there, she held my hand in hers and they were still together, ring against ring and lip against lip when we woke up the next morning.

"I promise." I said gently as I pulled my lips away from hers.

One small tear fell away from her opening eye as she nodded in return. She nodded twice more and placed her face into my throat but she never let go of my hand. The rings were fused together as she gripped my hand tightly within hers.

We all got up together as a family and ate breakfast with each other. Halli then busied herself for school and Dawn got dressed for her new career. Dawn liked taking her daughter to school. Halli never said anything, but I could imagine her delight at being dropped off in front of the building in her Pantera. Before they left, however, Dawn took a moment to share the new ring with her daughter. They both squealed alot and seemed to blush at each other. Dawn kept holding it up and when she didn't, Halli's little hand held it up for her so she could get a better look. Dawn didn't mention anything about the necklace, though. I think she was leaving that for me.

I had no particular plans for the day but I figured I could go skiing in the absense of anything else to do. But I spent alot of time doing little or nothing besides showering, shaving, and some light domestic chores.

The phone rang as I was polishing a faucet in the kitchen.

"Hello!" I was so cheery in the morning.

"Hi Billy it's me." came the voice from back east.

"Hi! How's the world treating you this morning, Doctor?"

"OK I guess. Daddy."

"You liked that? She's a real child of the millennium!"

"So you couldn't tell me yourself, huh? You needed to have me read it in a magazine the way the rest of the world did. It's OK. I understand."

"Did you see her pictures? Doesn't she look just like me?!"

"So you're surrounded by beautiful fabulous famous women now. What was it like teaching Kelly Stone to snowboard? Did you give her the same personal attention you gave me?"

"No. Actually Cassandra Hallidey did. Recognize the leather pants in Kelly's photos? She gave away my pants! But they were hers to begin with. She gave them to me nine years ago. I have a feeling though that one day Kelly's gonna give them to Tamara. They'll probably fit her like they've been fitting everybody else."

"Are you still with her mother?"

"Not right this second. She left for work about an hour ago."

"You know that's not what I mean. Are you still seeing her?"

"Well, what did the magazine say?"

"Peace, Billy. I'm not trying to fuck with you. Are you still with her?"

"Yeah." and again I had a chance to hang it in the air.

"Were you with her when we were together?"

"No. In fact, I was unaware of her continued existence and the very existence of my daughter until they chose to reveal themselves to me. It happened well after you and I were quite apart. After I returned to Colorado for the rest of the season. I'm an open and honest person, dear. I would have told you about something like that. Or maybe not. Since it doesn't really matter, I don't find myself compelled to justify my actions."

"You really hate me, don't you."

"No I don't hate you. Do you hate me?"

"God no, Billy! I'm just surprised, that's all. You're full of surprises. You weren't like this when we were seeing each other. I kept telling you I like surprises. Now I guess I'm pretty surprised."

"Why? Because I've got a life? Well, surprise."

"You deserve your life, Billy. If anybody deserves to have a good one, it's you."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you do."

"Well I couldn't agree with you more. I've always been optimistic and I knew I'd have a good one when the time came."

"You mean when the right woman came along."

"I guess you could say that."

"And I wasn't the right woman."

"I guess not."

"You didn't guess not when we were together. I mean, it wasn't that long ago."

"I started guessing not when you stopped calling me. And didn't return my messages. And let six months slip by. And started seeing someone else. And couldn't give me the courtesy of even a Dear John letter. I started guessing not once my heart was broken."

I could have told her about how Cassandra let eight years slip by. But the story of that resurrection would have been impossible to relate in a brief and meaningful way to this woman. So I didn't entertain trying to do it.

"Is Cassandra Hallidey the right woman, Billy?"

"Her name is Cassandra Dawn Shannon now."

"What?!"

"And she's carrying our second child."

"You married her?! Because she's pregnant?!"

"I married her because she's the right woman. She's pregnant because she's the right woman. We're together right now because I'm the right man. The right woman and the right man make for the right relationship. And that makes for beautiful children."

"Jesus Christ! Aw just,... aw fuck! Fuck me!"

"What the hell are you going on about?! You dumped me over half a year ago and you're acting like any of this matters. What's up with you anyway?"

"I thought we were gonna work! I really did! I just... needed to be sure about things!" and I could hear the tears in her voice start to fall.

"Sweetheart. If you thought that breaking off all contact with me and then dating one of my close friends and then breaking his heart to boot was going to make things work between us then I have to tell you that your actions definitely qualify you as Wrong Woman of The Year. Can you understand what I'm saying? Nobody anywhere close to the Right Woman would possibly act this way. Not to me and not to anybody else either. What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"I was just trying to be sure about things! I thought you'd understand!"

"I'm sorry but that's just plain crazy. That's not even plausible. I don't even think you believe that. It's just not credible. It doesn't even qualify as improbable."

"So you sound like you know all about Jerry."

"Maybe. It depends on how much there is to know. Since he doesn't really know any more than I do, I guess we're both in the dark, huh."

"Billy. Jerry's not you. Nobody is."

"Well then you fucked up. Plain and simple. It happens."

"So what happens now? With us?"

"The same thing that's happened for the last seven months. Nada. I'm married now and I have a seven year old child and another one on the way. And I love my wife more than I loved you because she loves me back and because I can trust her. And I'm not in love with you anymore but I don't hate you either. This is my life."

"But you said you loved me! Just the other day!" she protested.

"And then I went to my therapist and worked it out. It turns out I was wrong. Sorry."

"Why you vicious motherfucker! You... You..."

"Ah! Anger. I recognize this stage of growth. I know it well. Savor it until it yields to acceptance. I only know about it because you're such a fine teacher."

"You hate me! You honest to god hate me!"

"Oh grow up. This isn't about you. But I'll tell you an interesting story. Remember when I left Virginia? I was convinced my life was changing forever. I figured we'd be together for time eternal. I was a different person when I walked out my door. I was the happiest man in the whole world. And how in the world did I manage to reach that high, huh? By making up a fantasy relationship?! Hardly. You're being deflated in the period of one conversation. I got deflated over a period of months. Excruciating and sadisticly torturous month after silent month. I wasn't exactly angry. More like demoralized and crushed in spirit. Hopelessly hurt and broken. I was dead and then I was resurrected."

"And what if I'd have come out there with you? What if we'd hung together the way you wanted it to be? What then?"

"We'd be together right now. But you wouldn't have had to do that. You could have simply called me up once in a while. You could have been honest with me. You could have been honest with yourself. And we would still be together right now. There would be no Cassandra Dawn Shannon. She wouldn't even have approached me. She would have remained unrevealed. She would have left us alone and gone somewhere else. But you dumped me. A cruel and silent dumping. And it turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to me in my entire lifetime."

Then it occurred to me that I had no reason to rule out such a hypothetical cycle from anywhere in the past. Who knows? It was certainly possible. She had been one thin wall away from everything about me. She would have known exactly what there was to know and I would have never known about anything. Just thinking this way made me shudder. I could have lost it all and never have known.

"Billy?"

"Yeah."

"It's too late isn't it."

"Ironically, it's still too early. You're seven or eight years too early to be in a relationship with someone like me. Give it another decade, baby. Maybe you'll be a grownup by then. That's when you'll stand a chance with the kind of guys you keep blowing off. You didn't fuck up because you're inept. You fucked up because you're psychoticly averse to the kind of intimacy that characterizes an adult relationship. Deal with that. Find out what the terms intimacy and closeness really mean. And then decide whether or not your men can deliver the goods. But right now, your men wither on your vine because you hold back the essential nutrients. Men haven't fucked you around and neither have I. So get over it and start addressing the problem."

"Do you have anything else to say?" she said coldly.

"Yes I do. You owe someone a phone call. Call him and let him hear your voice quiver like you're trying to say something honest. I don't care what you tell him. But you need to tell him something."

"OK. So noted. Talk to you again sometime."

"Anytime, Doctor. You're a strong woman. You'll figure things out. See ya."

"Goodbye."

Oh but she was mad. She was beyond angry. I could tell it a dozen different ways in her voice. But for the first time in many months I could have been optimistic about her. Maybe she could actually grow into the kind of woman capable of sustaining a real relationship. That kind of growth would be painful but it would be necessary before she would ever get her arms around an intimate and sharing partner for any significant amount of time.

But two things would have to happen first. She'd need to want it badly enough. And she'd need to recognize the process and respect it. But she was so smart and so stubborn that I suspected she'd spend another ten years trying to cheat the process before she might finally realize that the process is no more avoidable than death itself. And the process of resurrection requires at least some form of uncheatible death. Deny either one and she'll never even find her way onto the tapestry much less move to her appointed center. Either she was in for an accelerated period of pain or she was years away from coming anywhere close to the fabric.