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All Life is in Stages

CHILDHOOD

Ann and Mary

"Is this the gate of Heaven?" asked Mary."Silly," said Ann. "It's only the gate of the park."

As they w alked down a glade, Mary asked,"Who lives in those trees over there?Look, they're w aving at us.""It's nobody," said Ann. "Just the shadesdancing over the grass under the trees.""Let's climb that mound," said Mary."Yes, let's," said Ann."Does this hill lead to the sky?" asked Mary."Of course it doesn't," snapped Ann."If you w ere big like me, you'd see.the thorns and thistles w ith purple flowerson the brow of the hill, you w ould.""Are hilly brows like eyebrow s?" asked Mary.

"Sort of, only different," said Ann,looking very deliberate, like mum sometimes.Mary ran ahead. "Look," she cried."You can see a piece of the skyw here there's a hole in the ground.""Silly," said Ann, "That's the ref egshun of the skyin the lake. Let's go dow n to the sw ans."Once at the lake-side they saw a sw answ imming tow ards them."Is it an angel," asked Mary.Her elder sister w as speechlessfor a moment. "It's just lovely," said Ann,w ho had dropped her omniscient guard.

There Was a Boy

Once there w as a boyWhose chief delight it ever w asto roam w herever fancy led,to verdant mead or secret glade,to copse or gently sloping hill,w here seated on his mossy throne,he might survey his Arcadyand spy far-off spires and tow ers.

As if bound by a fairy spellhe heard melodies so strangeand saw yet stranger sights.Sometimes he aw oke to shoutsas loud as thunder-claps

that fell the mighty oak.Rousing from his drow sy dreams one dayhe saw standing there a figure,more elf than man, goatish, small,w hose laughing eyes speltmischief but no harm."Hello," he said. "I'm Pan.

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Learn of me, and I shall teachthe names of shrubs and trees,the alder, haw thorn, bay, row an,the blackthorn, birch and ash.Learn of me the songs birds sing,of chaffinch, thrush, tit, piper,the buzzard, rook and jay.Learn of me w hat creeping thingsthere are, what life is foundin burrow, pool and stream.Learn w hat games fox-cubs do play,how w easels hunt and rabbits sport,and I shall teach you how to teaselittle girls by pulling plaits,and bigger ones, I'll come to that.I'll teach much more, but for the w hile,

just listen to this pipe I play."So sw eet the strain that bade him museon things f rom Fancy's store purloined,on changing scenes and w hat they toldof elves in grottoes, nixies coythat bathed in streams by w oody dells,of golden f ields and reapers gladsome,yet unmindful of their toil,of pastures lush w here shepherds danced,their gold-f leeced flocks untended grazed,

for w olves, for sure, w ere kindly then.A voice bade me return to that same spotto learn new w onders and explore new lands.

The vision over, sadly I homew ard stepped,cheered only by the promise I had heard.Mine was this sorrow, for, yes, I was that boy.I came again and w aited there for Pan.I w aited though the wind w as coldand clouds, like zealous sentinels,w ould let no sunbeams pass.Pan never came, but one came in his stead,a little man, in stature only like to Pan.His clothes w ere black, as black as sin,his hat w as black and very tall.Black w ere his shoes and mirror-shiny, too.

All w as black, in fact, save silver buckleson hat and shoe, his silver hair,his haggard dead-pan face.He also had a black sack on his backand a spade held fast by a black strap.He placed the black sack and spadeon the ground and glow ered at me."Now I shall teach you, boy," he said,producing a little black bookfrom a pocket in his black coat.He opened the black book at chapter one,and read it to me. This done, he read onthe second chapter, then the third,

the fourth, until the final chapter came,and this also he read aloud to me.He taught me w ords both new and long,w hich soon w ould haunt me in my sleep,dim in their meaning and dour in sound.To w it: the Septennial and Triennial Acts,the pragmatic Sanction and many Latin tags,indefeasible rights, and other w ordsthe square on the hippopotamus, tw o apple pieIsausages triangles, cosine and tangerines,and other w ords, mastication, cherry torts,and gross moral turpentine, and more w ords,

jussive subjunkthings, ablative ablutions,speculative Antinomianism, unclear w arheads,overkill, collateral damage, infernal combustion,

and finally w ords proving inconclusivelythat all but a few must perish in perdition,or, in keeping with this rational age,a thermonuclear holocaust.He made me carry the black sackup to a hill and then handed me his spade,w ith w hich I had to dig a hole."Wh ?" I asked. "Because I sa !" said he

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"and because I want you to bury that black sack."I dared not ask w hat that sack contained.My task accomplished, I ran backmy homew ard w ay, surmising as I didw hat that sack might have contained.Pan, I fancied, or else perchance, a boy.

II: Early Adulthood

Getting Wise

So she f inally decided to dow hat she'd always said she'd do.She left him! Slam w ent the doorw ith a deafening, mighty w ham!But scarcely had the landing andthe top of the banisters been cleared,Then she stopped in her tracks,and paced back very sprightly,opened the door of his seedy f lat:the same old tatty, sordid scene!Number eighteen, Wormw ood Scrubbs Terrace.

It had all looked so different by candle-light.Romantic glows conceal cobw ebs and grime;so too the tinged, dog-eared papering passed unrecorded.It w as the night, so many moons before,w hen they met. "I'm your host, Mike Randle!""l'm Pauline Day, a f riend of Jack Huntley."From that moment Mike got to w ork fast."Up from the country are you, dear.I expect you f ind London quite bew ildering.You'll soon get with the sw inging city scene.Have some w ine, dear, red or w hite?Help yourself to all you fancy on the buffet.Bill, could you pass that platter--Edam, cheddar?No one w ho's been to a party of mineLeaves hungry, believe you me.

Care for a little dance in a minute?""A dance, oh dear!" she thought all in a stew.She remembered Grandma's w arnings about the s indevised by the devil and his w icked bandto make a girl lose grip of allshe should keep to herself until her w edding day."Try some of this, dear, just a sip."Mike had a shrew d idea w here things w ere heading.Soon they w ere reeling to the disco sound."Make the next one slow, there's a good man,"said Mike to Disco Dick. Little did she knowMike had a nickname, w hich w as Randy Randle.Soon locked in his tight and firm embraceshe w as in Heaven. Such sw eet nothings he did bandy,w hispering his banter into her receptive ears.

While she w as dreaming of a cottage and tiny totshe w as f iguring w here he'd left those darned dispeptic pills."You're so ... diff erent from the other girls one meets.You so remind me of the one girl I truly loved.Leucemia, you know." Oh, how the tears did flow !Muffling his sobs, his face he buriedin her flaxen locks. Dow n her spinehis fingers like a piper's nimbly raced.Why don't w e tw o meet tomorrow for a tete-a-tete?There's a very nice little Indian place I know.Look, how about me meeting you at Shepherd's Bush around eight?So, over a curried chicken he emptied his heart.While they w ere w aiting for the suite, he clasped her hand."So like her," he sighed. She gave a little start.Yet her hand remained in his. "Coming on nicely," Randle thought."Let's get back to my place for cof fee...Waitress, the bill!""lt's rather late," said Pauline, "l'd better get back home.""The night is young," said Mike, "Let's live and have our fill.""Just for half an hour then, but not a minute more.""I've got a new LP. Just your sty le. I'll play just one side,"said Mike, his eyes tw inkling, as he opened the front door.She failed to notice his deft turning of the disc

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and by the middle of the second side, he gently kissed her back.At the end he held her in a clinch. Yes, his style was brisk.Now w ith fully opened eyes she spied that same sofa,and a tear now trickled dow n her rosy cheek.Then she looked dow n on the floor. She sighed.lt w as there in that vicinity she lostw hat Granny had w arned her about not lightly letting go."There's none so blind as them that w ill not see."Then their trial marriage, as he so aptly termed it!Soon the sw eet nothings turned so strangely sour.To be at his beck and call she enjoyed the dubious privilege.What was it f irst gave the lie? The smug assumptionthat she w as somehow in his eternal debt, or his habits.his forgetting to clean the w ashbasin, to pull the chain,his toe clippings on the sofa, his snoring, his moods,his long reads of the Sunday paper at breakfastthat made it oh so clear that she w as bloody boring.But even after she'd found him out, still she lacked the w illto make a break. Habits, good or bad, like iron bands compel.It seemed she w ould accept her thraldom as an fact of lifetill she decided to eat out one night on her ow n.In fact she w ent to that Tandoori place in Shepherd's Bush.While waiting for the menu, she heard a not unfamiliar drone:"You're so diff erent from the other girls one meets.You so remind me of the first girl I truly loved.Leucemia, you know...." Oh how the tears did flow.

So she finally decided to do what she'd alw ays said she'd do.She left him! Slam w ent the doorw ith a deafening, mighty thud.Surprised at her ow n strength, she leftnever to turn back--a virginmaybe not--but very much the w iser.

(after old ballad found in the poetry of Johann Wolfgang Goethe)

Sire Gaddabout one spring-tide mornhis sturdy dappled pard did mount.for he w ould w ed the highly bornMaid Ethrelda Holyfount

He plucked his lute and sang an air,but scarce a league was trod

than came a cry. "Bew are, beware!Here comes the knave, Sire Heaviplodde.

"Sire Heaviplodde, my mortal foe?Seeks THIS day a fight?'Tis him or me a mortal blowmust soon dispatch to endless night."

Sir Heaviplodde in armor blackrode up to mock and jeer.Then said he, holding high a a sack:"Your head shall be my souvenir."

"Make good, black knight, your foolish boast,"stern-faced Sire Gaddabout did cry,"or by ye saints your w retched ghostanon the Stygian strait must ply."

The shields did clash, the horses snort,

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the dust did f ly, the sw ords did ring,and, to cut a long tale short,'tw as Heaviplodde w ho felt death's sting.

A fullsome w ench w ith babe at breast