The Peppermint Kaleidoscope

Arthur - December 11, 2018

I’m back at the hotel. Yes, I’m bone tired and exhausted beyond all measure, but it’s a fulfilling fatigue. I don’t feel like writing in my journal tonight, but it’s so ingrained in me to do so (on a nightly basis, no less) that I don’t believe I could function otherwise.

When I tell audiences or interviewers about my journals, they laugh and nod, like sure, that’s a good idea for old people but I have an iPhone. No matter. They do miss out on the feel of writing, though. The pen or pencil in hand, the sound of the words being written on paper, the smell of ink or graphite or frustration.

My journals are me. All of me. I write fantasy novels by profession, replete with demons and sorceresses and warlocks and dragons (one must have dragons in a fantasy novel, yes?) and magic spells and otherworldly powers. The journals are a lot like my novels, for the mundane materials contain magic. Only Emily and God are allowed access to my journals.

The journey through life to this point (and I am waxing philosophic because I have indulged in the hotel’s excellent mini-bar) has been good. Too good for the likes of me. But I found a muse. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that she found me, though she couldn’t see me at all.

And it all started with a dare…

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Arthur - April 11, 1982

Antie Iona give me this book to write in. She promise me 5 dollars every month if I fill it up. She said I can write dirty words in it if it helps. Mamma and daddy said its ok to. They agree to anything antie Iona says to get that $700 a month, from her. Daddy say she wears out her welcome before her ass hits the chair. I reken so. She come ever month and stays a cupla days. She daddys sister but I don’t think she like him, much on account of him having a still and sellin his moonshine but daddy cant find work, he says so he makes do with what he got but antie Iona say that’s just a excuse, to be lazy. Mamma don’t mind her. Sayin she wishes antie Iona would stay more. She give me some books to but I don’t reken Ill read em.

Iona - April 11, 1982

That man may be my brother but he’s as lazy and irresponsible as he was as a kid. He’s lucky he has a good woman to take care of Arthur, even though he did impregnate her and felt obligated to marry her. Arthur is a bastard, true, but I don’t want to see that young man emulating his father’s lifestyle. I don’t mind the money I slip to Audrey; Hank would let them starve as long as he had his moonshine and his weekly poker game. Arthur, though, needs to find a better life, as I did. Dear old Augustus died far too soon, but he left me a considerable amount of money. I had to bribe the boy to write, but he agreed to it. Money certainly has a way of swaying opinions and changing lives. It delivered me from that hellhole and in to San Antonio. I will love my sweet Augustus forever for that. I wish he would have given me a child as well, but the good Lord knows what He’s about.

Arthur - April 13, 1982

Anthony dared me, to knock on the Fremont door. At midnight. A full moon, to. I done it but my foot went through the porch and I couldn’t get lose. My grit done left me then and I yelled like a little girl. The old woman who lives there took a broom to me and whupped me good whilst I was still stuck. Mean ol biddy. Mamma was none to happy to come get me and take me home. She had a talk with the old woman first. I reken Im in a passel of troubble. She gonna want daddy to whup me I reken. Im tuckered out.

Geraldine – April 13, 1982

Audrey’s boy sure caused a ruckus here tonight, getting stuck when his foot went through the porch. Lordy! I never heard a boy scream so! Audrey was put out and she wanted me to punish the boy. She’d send Hank to fix the porch but the boy needed something besides a belt, she said. I don’t reckon a belt has much for a boy his age to fear. They all get big headed and swaggering at that age, thinking they’re tough enough to wrestle a polecat. But I reckon I got just the thing for that boy.

Arthur – April 14, 1982

Hellfire. I got to read to the blind girl every day after school and all thrugh summer. I don’t kno why I cant just be whupped and let go. This just aint right. Its that old woman. The antie. I gotta do it every dang day ecept Sunday. Daddy laugh and say even the Lord got a day off so I shoud to. I bet the Lord never had to read books to a blind girl. Hellfire is what I say.

Emily (voice recording) – April 16, 1982

Aunt Geraldine says I’m to be read to by a local boy. Arthur, I think. I don’t know how I feel about it. I like to sit on the back porch while Auntie Geraldine reads to me. I feel the sun on my face and I hear the birds sing and the cows moo and the horses neigh. It makes for a delightful backdrop to her readings. I think those British authors are the best! My favorites are Jane Austen and George Elliot. Auntie tells me George Elliot is really a woman. I asked her why she used a man’s name and she said she didn’t know and didn’t care.

I will withhold judgment until I meet this boy and divine his personality. From what auntie tells me, the boys around here are unwashed and uncouth, not fit for decent company. I wonder why she agreed to this arrangement. Auntie is a little rough at times, but she has a good heart. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt as she does me.

Geraldine – April 30, 1982

That boy Arthur can’t read worth a lick! He done brought comic books over that first day to read to my little Emily. The boy’s got some nerve! Well, I snatched those things away before you could say spit. Gave him a nice big book to read. Bleak House. The boy’s been reading on that book for two dadburned weeks and Emily just sits there on the back porch a listening to him, like everything’s all as right as rain.

I hope his daddy took a belt to him too.

Arthur – May 27, 1982

I done got in a fight today. Kenneth was a callin me names cause I read to the blind girl. I punched him right in the nose and boy howdy did he scream. Blood come a spurtin out to. But he whupped me good after that bein two years older then me an all. I toll Emily bout it and she said I was bein shellvrus. I asked her what that mint and she said I was like a hero. I aint never ben called a hero. My daddy says Im a mistake and mamma tells me that Im her anjul but she don’t treat me like those anjuls in the bible. Aint nobody gonna whup a anjul upside the head with a shoe.

Arthur – June 15, 1982

I done finish that dang book. It wasn’t about a house at all. That Dikens guy maybe cant write so good. When I read, about Dennis the menace the story is about Dennis. Now I got to read, The Red Badge of Courage, to the girl cause, she said that when I got whupped that, my blood, was a simble like in the book. She nice enough and she always tell her antie to set out some cookies and lemonade for us so I get some sweets for my troubbles. I reckon Ill read ahead on that book tonight so I can get a idea bout the story. It’s a little book thank Jesus but it don’t matter cause Ill just have to read another book after it. A man just cant win this game I reckon. All my friends joke with me bout this but they kno it coulda ben them. Billy give me his favrit fish hook cause he feel sorry for me.

Geraldine – January, 1984

Young Arthur still comes every day to read to my little Emily. She’s grown into a fine-lookin girl I’d say. Audrey thinks they’re sweet on each other and I reckon they are courting. They sit by each other and sometimes I see them holding hands. I don’t recall ever seeing them kiss but I reckon he done kissed her a few times out on the back porch when I’m not around. The boy sure is respectful nowadays. Lordy he was a handful when this all started! I reckon Emily likes him just fine. That’s a relief because I’m no spring chicken anymore and she needs someone to look after her when I’m pushing up daisies.

Arthur – August, 1984

She likes peppermints. Emily, that is. I like them too. Now anyway. The hard disks would sting my mouth at first but I got used to them. Emily laughs at me when I tell her how much it burned the first few times, but that I did it anyway because I didn’t want to look weak in front of her.

When I think of her, I smell peppermint and I hear her laughing. Not always at me although. I think she likes me because she kissed me when I left today. I will admit that it was nice. Pleasurable. That’s the word.

Iona – March, 1985

I will admit to a feeling of surprise - a pleasant surprise - at the way Arthur has embraced writing. He now fills up a dozen journals each month, though I still give him a mere $5. He laughs and tells me that the gift of writing is more than enough compensation – but he will gladly take the $5 if it makes me feel better. Scamp!

That girl Emily turned out to be as cute as a button, and she has a lovely, gracious personality. She transformed him much more than my monthly $5, and he helped her become a little livelier. I give Arthur all the credit in the world for that, despite the girl’s aunt thinking it was her upbringing that made Emily such a treasure.

Geraldine – November, 1985

That boy! He bought the craziest gift for Emily that I ever did see! A kaleidoscope! The poor girl can’t even use it but he insisted on it being one of her gifts. Said she would understand, and then he gives me that smile that makes me go all soft on him.

Emily (voice recording) – December, 1985

Auntie Geraldine gave me a brand new tape recorder and fifty cassette tapes for Christmas. What a lovely gift, and one that I sorely needed, for my old tape recorder was sounding scratchy when I played my daily thoughts back. She said she’d buy me all the tapes I wanted when I needed them.

Art gave me some books written in Braille, and I can’t wait to read them. And he gave me a kaleidoscope. Scamp! It’s our little thing, you see. He tells me that I had changed his perspective on life just by being me. Like the way you twist the tube of a kaleidoscope and the image changes by rearranging colored crystals.

I didn’t know I changed his perspective on life that much until he told me. He changed the way I see the world also. It’s all in color now, like those crystals in the kaleidoscope. I gave him a set of pens and an autographed copy of Second Person Rural by Noel Perrin. And, of course, I gave him a big bag of peppermints. I think he liked that gift the best!

Emily (voice recording) – June, 1986

Art will be going to college soon; he says that The University of Texas isn’t that far away and that he will visit as often as his studies allow. Still, I’ll miss those days out on the back porch as he reads to me and we discuss what was being read. My world is still, and will always continue to be, black behind these eyes of mine, yet there is plenty of light and color in my life. I can see, you see. Pardon the pun. It may have been in bad taste, but I suppose I can do that when referencing myself.

I can see Art. I feel his face and I can see him. I can see Auntie Geraldine and Art’s Auntie Iona. I can see his mom. I can see his friends, all of whom have become my friends. I can see because Art allowed me to see. He was such a smelly, ungracious kid, and his reading skills were atrocious. He became better quickly, and my improvement mirrored his own. He calls me a social butterfly now, but all I really do is go out with Auntie Geraldine to eat ice cream or sing in the choir.

Arthur – May, 1990

I have graduated college! Hosannahs and hallelujahs! Mom cried at graduation, as expected. She said daddy was either looking down on me or looking up at me, but either way he was watching. Aunt Iona gave me an astounding amount of money and told me to use it wisely. Read: marry Emily, buy a house, have kids. Emily’s aunt gave me her mother’s wedding and engagement ring to give to Emily. As for Emily, well…

I don’t know why she wants to marry someone as non-handsome as I turned out to be. I have my dad’s crooked nose and my mom’s high cheekbones, and they just don’t produce a pleasant aspect. I am fortunate that she hasn’t the ability to see me, for that would be a daily trial for the girl.

It’s late and I am fatigued beyond measure. Good night, all.

Emily (voice recording) – March, 1994

Art’s first book is out, and the response has been incredible. We keep getting checks from his publisher; the amounts amaze me! I’m starting to believe that we are rich.

The true treasure was in the dedication. To my muse, my wife, my friend. She is the other holy trinity.

And I’m not supposed to cry and throw my arms around him when he read that to me? Ha! Even some of my colleagues cried; my students, though, cheered. They think I might go easy on them because I’m so happy. They might be right.

Arthur – July, 2011

Aunt Iona passed away yesterday, a mere month after Emily’s Aunt Geraldine passed. Our two boys have never attended a funeral before, so I imagine that attending two of them in such quick succession prompts thoughts of mortality. Maybe not, though. They are young and boisterous, and they feel invincible at their ages. Much like I did back in the days when I was willing to fight the devil but afraid to read to a blind girl.

Mamma’s passing two years ago was quite a blow. She was not maternal but she was a good mother. I was a full-time job up to a certain point, and I’m sure she had better things to do than raise a little hellion. Now, however, Emily and I are without the guiding forces in our lives.

Arthur – June 12, 2019

It feels good to be home; the pleasures of the road, a la Jack Kerouac, are lost on me. I prefer the chaos of boys running through the house and a laughing, smiling wife who thinks it glorious that they are so active.

I’ll begin a new novel tomorrow. The life of an author can be mundane; I’ll spend two hours writing what I think is right and then spend three hours editing what I see is wrong. But no matter.

I have my peppermint kaleidoscope.