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Cris Mazza Waterbaby a novel Preamble She felt a seizure coming on for the first time in 25 years. The quarter-century anniversary of the convulsion named Denny. Either the grand mal aura stage induced memories of him, or a stray memory jarred loose by accident (or incident) caused the aura stage, or maybe a pre-aura stage that she hoped to stave off. Retired at 44, now pushing 48, Tam barely owned anything but money. Making (or earning) it had been an efficient distraction for twenty years. Surely enough time had gone by to make Denny no longer a factor. Besides, there were too many other factors that conceivably could spin her into a convulsion. Since retiring, ordinarily, she dodged the news — not conducive to essential tranquillity — but had been unable to evade elections auctioned to the highest paid attorney, terrorist sharks concealing themselves in the surf off playground beaches, passenger jets used as guided missiles, and junk mail bacteria. Meanwhile her life-saving brother becoming even more renowned, her ex-roommate holding her belongings hostage, and a whole family on the next block massacred by an estranged adopted son. Perhaps non sequiturs — wasn't everything? — but good enough excuses for Tam to stop trying to dilute her eddying brain waves with new age muzak — just head off to Maine and attempt to discover if her great-great grandmother was a shipwrecked baby. Before leaving for Maine, living temporarily in an empty bungalow, Tam had sent the news article about the family massacre to her sister, Martha. Father, mother, adult child, uncle, aunt-by-marriage, grandparents, tied up, throats cut. The defense attorney maintained that the young man suffered from "a form of epilepsy called Rage Syndrome." Martha, in return mail, sent two things. One a newspaper clipping about their brother, with a post-it sticky and Martha's round girly writing: "Gary's famous again — this one has been on my desk a while, I kept forgetting to send it to you!" August 3, 2001 Abandoning his own chances in the Mission Beach Triathlon, sports-writer Gary Burgess-Marr, 46, stopped his race during the rough-water portion of the three-part race to assist a struggling fellow-swimmer. A certified Water Safety Instructor (WSI), and a member of the Red Cross canine search-and-rescue team, Burgess-Marr returned to the beach with Jason Udall, 32, eight minutes after the start of the race. With the eerie sound of screams from the 75-year-old Bellmont Park roller coaster in the background, Burgess-Marr emerged from the 4-foot surf carrying Udall. "He'd swallowed a mouthful and was sputtering when I passed him," Burgess-Marr said after paramedics took Udall by stretcher to Mission Bay Hospital. "I turned and saw him go down." Burgess-Marr's mother, Emily Marr, 71, on the beach as a race spectator, said, "This is what he's been trained for, since he was four or five years old." She added that Burgess-Marr had been the youngest person in county history to achieve the difficult WSI certification when he was 14. Udall was listed in good condition and is expected to be released from the hospital tomorrow. Burgess-Marr is the author of TRIATHLETE IN-TRAINING, RESISTANCE TRAINING IN WATER, and NEVER TOO OLD, THE 40-SOMETHING'S GUIDE TO SPORTS CONDITIONING.The other piece of paper also had a post-it sticky, "From my new computer!" It looked, on first glance, like one of Martha's children's school history reports. But it was a segment of the genealogy project Martha had been pursuing since she was 16. In 1866, Jaruel Marr became the keeper of the Hendricks Head light on the Island of Southport in Sheepscot Bay, the coast of Maine. [Note: boring to start with dates and names. Punch this up a little. Ask Gary for help!] Born April 3, 1829, Jaruel was of the appropriate age to serve in the Civil War. There, as a private, he was injured and also taken as a Prisoner of War. Another prisoner, Doctor Wolcott, caring for the sick and wounded, inspired Jaruel, who never forgot him. Thus Jaruel's first born child after the war was named Wolcott. Jaruel was a carpenter who built his own house on Marr Point on the island of Southport, where he also was the lighthouse keeper for 29 years. He died of apoplexy [note: Tam, don't get excited, I don't think it's the same thing] in March of 1907.No mention from Martha, no 3rd post-it sticky note, on the coincidence of pairing her lighthouse keeper yarn with the article on Gary's previous stint at heroism. No comment on the epileptic's rampage. CRIS MAZZA'S most recent books are a memoir titled Indigenous / Growing Up Californian, and Homeland, a novel. Among her other notable titles are Dog People, Girl Beside Him, plus the PEN / Nelson Algren winning How to Leave a Country and the critically acclaimed Is It Sexual Harassment Yet? She is a professor in the Program for Writers at the University of Illinois at Chicago.
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Copyright 2004 Cris Mazza. |