A Bit of Humor

TALES OF STORMS WHICH RAINBOWS RIDE
A Bit of Humor
by Susan Haley

Probably next to our faith, whatever that may be, our inspirations and our personal passions, humor and the ability to laugh, especially at ourselves, feeds the soul as much as anything. I don’t know of a person who, deep down, doesn’t love to laugh. I admire those whose sense of humor is a paramount quality, and I hold compassion for anyone lacking the will to search for the humorous facet of every seeming calamity. Even if it’s a delayed reaction realized in afterthought.

The lauding of ‘rainbows’ has become my ‘signature’ of sorts. Most who are familiar with my ramblings expect ample, if not voluminous, displays of poetry or prose that implores for an appreciation and caring for Nature and all of Its critters. Or, weathering the storms of life with a good raincoat and sunglasses in their pocket. Those who’ve read Rainy Day People, know that although the fruit inside is of a serious fare, ‘Amber’, the protagonist, is a bit of a quirky nut with a tendency toward mishap in which to embroil herself. Most, too, know that ‘Amber’ is none other than this writer.

The recent gathering of Infinity Authors at Valley Forge and my subsequent jaunt to New York City provided many opportunities to attract trouble, as well as a lot of searching for the rainbows riding the tail of storms. I should’ve gotten my first clue when the week prior to my departure, my MS Word program, somehow knowing that it held all the preparatory documents needed for my big debut as an Author Panelist, decided to malfunction. Luckily, I’d duplicated much of the needed materials to PDF so was able to muddle through.

The day prior to scheduled departure, I packed and loaded the silver Spyder with everything but needed gasoline. At 6AM, after attempting to convince my two cats I wasn’t abandoning them to a neighbor forever, I embarked on my three week, 4,000 mile trek north via the gas station where the price had risen eight cents overnight.

After a couple of days of wandering around forests and cow pastures at the farm in North Carolina, reuniting with old friends and memories, Spirit rejuvenated, I shed a temporary lapse into a southern drawl, donned my ‘Author Button’, and headed north for Pennsylvania and points beyond. Eleven hours later, I arrived at the home of my son in Harrisburg without incident. For ‘Amber’, a feat in itself.

Lounging, sight-seeing, and driving my daughter-in-law looney practicing my speech filled the next four days and soon I was merging onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike headed for Valley Forge . Having viewed the Liberty Bell on a previous trip, when I discovered I was headed toward Philadelphia thanks to a wrong turn after exiting the Turnpike, I drug out the infernal cell phone and called my son for a course adjustment. He knows to stay close to the device when mother is loose on the highways. Another subtle hint of what lie ahead?

That evening following more reunions with friends, my fellow authors and I had the good fortune of doing a ‘run through’ of our Panel presentation with dear Jerry Simmons, of Time Warner fame, offering his guidance. I quickly learned that for one who becomes paralyzed with fear at the very thought of public speaking, I’d driven my daughter-in-law loony for nothing. The time frame was reiterated and, no, I wouldn’t be granted extra time to have a heart attack. But, Jerry, ‘rainbow’ that he is, took me under his arc, and I’m proud to announce that Friday afternoon, I recited my part in just under the five minute mark which was being carefully guarded our moderator, Melanie Rigney, Editor extraordinaire.

Sunday brought an end to another incredible Infinity Publishing Conference, and me again heading west to Harrisburg to regroup for the long awaited ‘event’ in New York City the following Saturday. The book signing in East Village had been promoted and anticipated for months! My son was to accompany me, the necessary reservations and itineraries were in place, so nothing could go awry? Right? Wrong.

An urgent cell phone call announced that due to an emergency, New Voices bookstore had to close and my signing was canceled. What?! You’re not serious! They were. Instant despair invaded my being. Disappointment threatened to render me ill. I wouldn’t even get the chance to fail! But, here we were, the car again headed north, and its occupants determined to go on a rainbow hunt in the midst of the storm. Author Button secured on lapel, book bag and flyers ready, I’d make sure New York knew of my existence. Somehow.

We purchased a three day tour bus pass and began our conquering of the Big Apple. Every notable landmark was visited and on the Saturday Night Light tour, the tour guide, always looking for a comic gimick to liven the crowd, fixed his eyes on my Author Button. Suffice it to say here, the rainbow appeared big time. I now know why Brian Judd touts “Beyond the Bookstore”.

Exiting the bus at Central Park and 58^th, we prepared to walk back to 34^th and 7^th Ave - Times Square . I then learned why there’s a drug store on every corner in the city. They’re first-aid stations. A row of horse drawn carriages along the perimeter of the park drew me like a magnet. To hug a horse after being surrounded by humanity for two days would be the ultimate end of a wonderful day. Wouldn’t it? No.

The horse decided my finger resembled a carrot and seconds later my son was furiously attempting to halt the flow of blood exiting my body through a severed artery. Not the way I intended leaving my ‘mark’ on New York, but refusing assistance from New York’s finest, minor surgery was performed outside the corner drugstore, an energizing cappicino was obtained at the Columbus Circle Starbucks, and we started on the twenty-four block hike south.

Hobbling into the throngs on the Square, my ankle was immediately stomped on by someone weighing at least a thousand pounds and staring up at the plethora of modern digital advertising. Now, injured in two extremities, my son decided the casualties were again mounting against us and it was time to get mother off the streets.

The next morning we headed back to Harrisburg as my walking tours were over. Upon arrival in the garage and exiting the vehicle, I was immediately struck on the forehead by a piece of lumber disturbed at the vibration of the garage door opener and breaking free of its perch in the rafters. Once more, I was seeing lights rivaling those of Times Square , and blood was again exiting my body from a lump that would balloon to the size of a golf ball. Son, Bill, is totally convinced his mother is an accident in search of a place to occur, and worrying about her 1500 mile return trip to Florida that was to commence the following morning. I told him not to fear, I had a couple of really good co-pilots. He smiled, knowing I was referring to his dad and my own.

I arrived home three days later, horse bitten finger encased in bandages, a black eye, an ankle with a striking resemblance to a football, and a grateful heart for my three days as a “New Yorker”. My neighbor looked at me aghast and inquired if I’d been in an accident. “Nah”, I answered, “just a few battle scars from my latest rainbow hunt. The last 600 miles were the hardest. How’s my cats?”

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