IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF HOBBITS

When I was writing to my Carolina friend Lucille in 2008, we spent a lot of time on names such as names we gave houses, cars, and names we gave ourselves. I had an old pen name she liked--Zeppha which I said meant Dreamer of Dreams. If one is Irish, one can make up things like that. She decided she wanted to be Honor, an old name from the nineteenth century she had found. I don't recall if it came out of a family tree or a historical figure. I changed her entry in the Address Book and for many months she remained Honor. Honor was replaced, though, after she read a Billy Collins poem she thought a classic. She decided to be Billie Lu and stayed Billie Lu even up to the last e-mail she wrote to me in August. As to houses, I called my California apartment The Little Red Schoolhouse because of its boxy shape and color. She called her basement Undercroft. However, when she invited me to come live there she handed the naming to me and told me to make something magical of the whole house. I leaned toward calling the basement, The Shire by Bolin Creek; the first floor would be Middle Earth; and the upper floor would be the Blue Mountains; the small patio area would be the Bag End garden.  She agreed. When my lease was up in the Little Red Schoolhouse, the movers came (coincidentally home based in  North Carolina) and I closed the door forever. Yes, some things really are forever. I repeated to myself a line from The Lord of the Rings, "Let the journey begin."

 The Shire was magical, indeed. We had a routine. I slipped out in the morning to catch the free bus to town. I came back in time to tell Billie Lu the stories I had experienced. At four o'clock, I rode the exercise bike (which I called the Wonderous Horse) through the Blue Mountains. At five, I took my early supper to sit on Stephanie's loveseat and watch something--a telenovela, Abrazame Muy Fuerte, or a tape of one of the entire Wagner Ring cycle featuring James Morris. Billie Lu took her turn telling me her stories such as those about growing up in an antique shop, living in Japan, taking her children to the Soviet Union where she got in a cab with a famous conductor. At six o'clock, I retired to my reclusive existence in the fabulous Shire where the moon rose through the dark woods with the light reflecting on the tumbling creek water. I read books I could later describe. She was ailing and not up to reading long books but she enjoyed Carolyn Meyer's Young Adult book, The True Adventures of Charley Darwin. When chance found me commuting to the city of New York, she said she missed our cultural get-togethers. But I read all the Kristin Lavansdatter books which she encouraged me to and the Dave Cunane mysteries. (Cunane was her mother's Irish family name. As I recall it means rabbit).  I mailed reviews. The Poldark saga was a favorite of ours. Lucille had named a cat after the heroine, Demelza. I felt some quick step of synchronicity when the actress who played Demelza died the same season as Lucille. I picture them somewhere now with one of her teapots discussing poetry and cookbooks, surrounded by rabbits. I'm glad they have cookbooks together. I was never one for cookbooks and was happy that Stephanie filled a role I couldn't possibly: watching edgy TV shows. No I haven't seen the Sopranos or Mad Men or the one about the teacher with crystal meth. 

Lucille had a lot of challenges in her life and dealt with them deliberately. I came across a quote by an author she liked which reminds me of her daily: 

"So might we fail to see the real sadness that lies behind

the acts of others; so might we look at one of our

fellowmen going about his business and not know

of the sorrow that he is feeling, the effort that

he is making, the things that he has lost."

~~Alexander McCall Smith

I must go down to The Shire this week and start the closing up. It is a shock to end this chapter which turned a house into a whimsical land of great beauty and marvel. I mourn the loss of Lucille's bright intelligence, her hopefulness but am grateful for such a journal of memories, a regular Sam Gamgee's sketchbook of travels.