feathers

One fine, sunny Los Angeles day, my mother told me a tale about a her rather terrible day.  Among other things, pipes broke in her home, she hit a woman's car with her own, and according to her tax accountant, Roy, she owed the IRS a substantial chunk of change.  At the brink of insanity, she did what anyone would do after facing such adversity.  She went to see her own mother.  Upon arrival, she immediately began gushing about the on-goings of the day.  How much could one soul tolerate?  At what point in the previous day or weeks past, did she commit such a profound act of social injustice that somehow her past inadequacies come back to haunt her with such ferocity?  The IRS???  An infestation of creatures that are half scorpion and half rabid mosquito would be a more welcome harassment.   

She carried on and carried on until Gene, my Grandmother's housekeeper came into the kitchen.  She had overheard the conversation and had a very logical explanation for her misfortune.   A feather.   A mid-sized grayish object that once facilitated the flight of some type of bird.  She said that my mother had passed it when walking in the house.  A critical mistake in one's daily soul evolution.  The feather, she explained, is an angel offering to protect the individual who passes it by.  When one sees a feather, they are to pick it up and hold onto it as a divine sign of protection.  This type of superstitious hocus-pocus isn't something welcomed in my family, however, given the day that my mom had experienced , pocketed the feather and went about her day.  She finished her rant and made her way home.  Over the course of the 8 minute drive, she recieved a call from my dad who let her know that the pipes were fine after all, the person whose car she hit didn't want her to cover the damage and the tax attorney called and embarrassingly confessed to having made an error.  Perplexed, she put the feather in her ashtray and thanked the angel that had protected her.  

She shared this story with me and I was amazed!  I wanted a feather.  Big time.  In fact, I would go so far as to just sit under a bird's nest to insure that I got not only my own feather, but that the feather I get is from a bird that I can rally behind.  I didn't want a crow feather or some stringy feather from the underside of a common sparrow.  I wanted something striped and something colorful.  I wanted the first feather in what I envisioned to be an elaborate headdress of angelic perfect!  

I headed out to my car, certain that my luck was about to change and I would owe it all to an unassuming bird.  Sure enough,  there, in front of my driver side door was a feather.  It wasn't quite the ornate masterpiece that I had hoped for, but a feather none-the-less.  I was overjoyed. I contemplated cashing my check instead of depositing it and going to the marango casino and tossing it all on black.  My life was about to change!  I called my mom to tell her about the feather as I made my way to the ATM.  So lost, I was, in the conversation about the feather that I didn't notice when it fell out of my pocket upon pulling out my ATM card.  I got back to the office and shared my mother's story and then reached dramatically in my pocket where I would pull out my own feather and I realized.....   It was GONE!!!!  I was panicked.  I needed that feather!  That feather was my key to a successful career, a happy marriage, a large house, ferrrari, boat, a servant's staff of 10, and all the sports jerseys that I could possibly want.  I had to f ind it!  It was my angel!  I emptied my drawers, frantically.  Nothing.  I searched the couch near my desk as my co-workers looked at me, mouths dropped.  Why weren't the helping, God damn it!  If they would help me, I would ultimately give them jobs when my company succeeded (as a result of the feather)!  It was for their own good that I find this thing! I tore through my car as it began to rain.  It was nowhere to be found.  It was the middle of the workday, but I knew that if I were to have a fighting chance in the whole world, I would have to go back to the bank and find it.  

It was the middle of October after a rainless, windless summer, and yet as I drove, a strong wind kicked up and an odd, orange-hued cloud loomed overhead.  It felt like a movie.  The wind was going to blow my feather away forever and I would be poor and fat and homeless and I would probably get some type of rare disease that would cause uncontrollable flagellation and halitosis.   Did God WANT me to fail!?!?!  

I got to the bank and ran to the ATM, my hair blowing in the breeze.  I looked down, and there it was.  My feather.  It started to rain.  It had held off long enough for me to find my angel and now I had it and my life was complete.  The millions and the house and the car were just a stone's through away now.  I put the feather in my pocket, came back to the office to four pairs of eyes, only slightly curious as to whether or not I found the feather.  I had found it, indeed, and by god, I felt GREAT!!!  That night, I called my best friend, my sister, my mom, my girlfriend, and everyone else who would listen to my story.  They laughed as I shared my story.   You should write that down, most of them suggested.  That night, I pulled into my garage in my nice car, walked up the stairs to my beautiful apartment where a loving woman waited for me.  I talked about my amazing job and my brilliant co-workers and then shared again, the story of the feather, waiting to see when my luck would finally change and I would get a shot at the good life.