Days of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 8

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 8

“And so, once again I had to comfort Lizzie for quite a while.”

“Wow, Unk. That’s awfully sad,” I muttered quietly.

“I know, and afterwards I held her for a long time and gave her some nice long kisses, and she held me tighter and said, ‘My goodness, Ernie, I’ve never had a beau like you before.’ And, Moose, I swear, I can still smell the musky moistness of her warm, tear-soaked face against mine, as I held her close to me on that evening so many years ago.”

“Knock it off, Unk!” I yelled, kicking the dust up at our feet.

“But it was wonderful, unbelievably wonderful: that effluvium of heated breath softly panting against my cheek.”

“Give me a break.”

“Then I whispered in her ear a line of poetry that a teacher made me learn in the eighth grade:

Ah, Lizzie, thy beauty is to me

Like those Nicaean barks of yore,

That sailed swiftly out to sea

For lovers from a distant shore.

Just so, your splendor brings me home

To the glory that was Greece

And the grandeur that was Rome.

"100% Junk!" I yelled, jumping up and down on the chair.

"No, Moose, no, that did the trick. I thought Lizzie would squeeze me half to death, right there on the spot. ‘You know, Ernie,’ she whispered, ‘all of my knights wrote me poetry but nothing as nice as yours. They were all trying to gain my favor. Isn’t this neat what Andy wrote to me last week?’ And, unfolding a piece of paper that she pulled from her pocket, here is what she read to me:

 A hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze:

Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand for the rest.

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart.

For Lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

“ ‘That’s pretty cool, Liz,’ I told her, ignoring her weird statement about her knights.

“Then I remembered some lines from another great American poet, and I recited it softly to her as I held her gently in my arms. ‘For you Lizzie,’ I whispered:

                       

Unearthed in an ancient land

The lantern fell to me

Who cleared the dust

To see its spell

        Shimmering free above the lamp,

        As softly flow the Persian silks,

        Her eyes with flickering brilliance ply

        The magic, bright for all to see.

        What need for wishes?

        What need for mystic feats

        Or swirling carpet rides?

        An awed master, mastered by a Lizzie

        Fleshed with spirited delight—

        Her presence deed enough.

        For now this charmed globe I’ll lay aside—

        Apt companion for the darkened ride.

        When void of light I’ll find and gently move,

        And frenzied hands of joy will rub it smooth.

“Well, Moose, with this her meltdown was complete. That night we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and overlooking that beautiful, enchanted river, we drifted into a serene sleep …

“ ‘Wake up, Ernie. Wake up, dear,’ Lizzie whispered the next morning. The gentle words and soft stroking of my hair finally roused me from my deep, peaceful sleep. ‘After breakfast we’re taking a trip up river to visit a good friend of mine. He writes plays for our little theater in town. I think you’ll like him, Sweetheart.’

“ ‘Terrific,’ I groaned, stretching widely to full wakefulness. Yeah, and that’s exactly what we did, but I’ll have to tell you about it some other time.” And then, Nina, as Uncle Ernest trudged to the house to prepare for a big night of partying on the town, I swatted a mosquito that was feasting on my neck, listened for a few minutes to the whippoorwills—who had just begun their beguiling love songs—and, skipping up the steps and through the old screen door, heard it slam for the last time that evening.  [To be continued Friday, 8/17/2012]