Gentle Readers,

I was almost compelled to do a Swamp Postcard update on the events that have transpired since I pecked out the note from yesterday. The surprise and polemics that followed the announcement of Associate Justice Kennedy’s retirement was revealed shortly after transmission of the weekly….and then was allowed in short order by the news of the shootings at the Gazette offices in Annapolis, a few dozen miles away from Big Pink.

You notice I did not say horrific or unprecedented with that reference. This is not the new normal I signed up for.

We are in information saturation, and our devices have rendered us in perilous straits- I have been on a smart phone, a tablet and a laptop on the patio to weave these strands together and all that I really wanted to talk about today was Albert, the Gnome.

Al and I have a long history- and his storied history with the Socotras goes back are than a century. I know he has been guarding the porch of the family houses since at least 1904, since that is the date on the faded black-and-white image of him that came in a box with the rest of the estate crap.

I do remember seeing him for the first time, proudly patrolling Grandma’s house in Millburn-Maplewood, New Jersey. That would have been in the 1950s or so, eligible for antique plates a couple times over if Gnomes were required to be registered in the car world.

Grandma died in the late 1960s, and the family gathered to divvy things up. Al came to Raven and Big Mama, and was promptly ushered into the crawl space below the little house on the Bluff on Little Traverse Bay.

I found him there about the time I had to take my duties as estate executor seriously, and attempt to get my arms around the task to come.

Al was dusty and more than a little bedraggled there in the tomb-like darkness of the crawlspace. His paint was faded, and lying on his back on the foundation sand as he was, it felt more than a bit like an exhumation. For me, it was one of those first moments when you feel guilt about taking things that aren’t- strictly speaking- yours.Even though they are in the process of becoming so.

As if Raven would shake off the clouds in his mind and decide to rewire, remount, sand and repaint from Gnome in the manner to which he manifested a long time ago.

That is how Al came to Refuge Farm in the trunk of the Panzer. His lantern was shattered, his wiring corrupt. His base was gone. I fixed those problems, though I regret the cord to his lantern comes out of his butt. Some technical things cannot be avoided.

I then placed him proudly on the front porch of Refuge Farm. He did need a coat of paint, but with Gnomes being such a fashion these days, I just got him out there for Karma’s sake.

Joe the Union President who lives next door up in Blue Arlington is responsible for this. It is completely his fault. He had one single garden Gnome, a little tattered but natural on the mulch across from his door. But then he suddenly added a new one on the patio. Like brand new, all shiny and optimistic.

Well, you can understand a certain feeling of Gnome inadequacy growing here, knowing that Al was world class but 72 miles away.

So, now here he is. Refurbished with loving care. Paint shiny and new. Oh, the condo association says we can only fly the US Flag outside our units. So here is Al and my two flags. The birthday of this strange chaotic nation is coming up next week, and I wanted visitors to know where they were.

I think Al approves. He has been at this a long time, and wears his age lightly.

Copyright 2018 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com