Of course, it doesn’t end there. So …
I’m sitting at the Harbor Pub telling Barclay Wagner about The Curl of a Day. A tax lawyer, originally from Santa Barbara, BW had lived in Fiji for two decades, including the final stages of British colonial rule. He’d served as D.O. of some district I can’t recall, advised the British legislature, owned an island – minor amazing shit like that.
I met BW for the first time by fluke in 2011 at this very pub, when, astonishingly, BW revealed that he had known my father quite well back in the day. Having just relocated to Hawai’i, it was a major coincidence for me. But the circumstances under which BW and I met is quite another story. One I have still to write about.
Anyway, so I’m relating the synchronous day I had yesterday, and BW listens without interruption. When I have finished, BW remains quiet. I wait, then, half-teasing and half-serious, I say, “But whatever does it mean, dear man?”
BW ponders me for several seconds, unblinking. “You’re in the flow,” he says eventually.
“Please elaborate,” I ask.
“You’re just in the flow,” BW repeats, a trifle impatiently, and I know that’s all I’ll get out of him.
A few minutes later, BW is telling me about a friend’s cat he’s minding, and how the cat tilts its head to one side. “Oh, I love that,” I say, “but with dogs. With my dogs in Fiji, I’d make these funny high-pitched noises and they’d slowly tilt their head to one side. It was so funny and cute!”
BW smiles at me. I glance briefly at the muted overhead television behind him. On the screen is a black and white border collie in a pet food commercial, and right at that moment the dog is cocking its head to one side.
I think of telling BW what just happened, but I don’t. As he put it, I’m in the flow. May as well enjoy the ride.