“Or peat!” I injected.
“That too!”
Mac finished up and appeared beside me, with a beer. He gave some history, and of course, all the stories were really interesting and adventurous! On a wall by the sitting area, he had mounted swords on the wall. One was a two-handed claymore, a basket hilt claymore, a fenc ing saber, and, of course, the Mameluke hilt saber that made the Marines famous. He picked up the saber and unsheathed it, then handed it to me. Very well made! Along the guard was the manufacturer’s name.
“Is this writing Polish?”
“Yeah. A company in Poland made that sword. Excellent craftsmanship! The Poles have been experts with the saber since the 1600s. With all the medieval arms revival, a number of fencing schools have popped up in Poland. Polish cavalry was some of the most feared in the world! Ever hear of the winged hussars?
“Yeah, sure! The wings make this cool droning noise when they’re at full attack. I have the mod for Total War 2.” I answered.
“We’ll have to play sometime.” Said unconsciously
He demonstrated some basic moves. I took the blade. It had heft!
“This is a heavy blade. I reckon the scene in ‘Die Another Day’ probably took a few takes.”
“More like a couple of weeks! A 20-minute, foot-to-firewall saber contest? It takes considerable strength and stamina!” He said flatly.
I chuffed a laugh. “Take a while to build strength and stamina?”
He rolled his eyes. “A work in progress. I can still hold my own in a match. There’s a fencing club near Pleasanton. I play down there a couple of times a month.”
“Is this the sword?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow. He laughed.
“The One?”
Something caught my eye. In a corner with some baseball bats, racquets, etc, was some kind of hockey stick. It appeared to be a field hockey stick with a thick, cut-off blade.
“What the hell is this?” I asked as I picked up the stick.
“It’s a Shinty stick.”
“Shinty?”
“It’s similar to the Irish game, Hurling. I know you’ve probably seen it!”
“Yeah, it’s that game they play in the pubs when too much Guinness is consumed?” I said with a snarky smile. He laughed.
“What a good idea for a game! Let’s give a group of Scots big clubs to run around with! Naaa, it’ll be fine!” I offered.
“Actually, it’s a great game! We even stopped using human heads as the ball!” He said proudly.
“Wow, evolution at its best!” I replied with a belly laugh.
He picked up the stick and ball. We talked as he bounced.
“Is this your Pop?” I asked, looking at the photo.
“Yeah. That was my graduation from the Academy.”
“Is that Paige? Jesus, she’s young!”
“That was what, ten years ago. Wow….tempus fuget!” He said under his breath.
“Who are these two?”
“The black guy is Willy Simmons. He’s a captain and a Cobra pilot. This dude here is Jordan Pell. A captain with ‘Four-Two’ Commando. In fact, he’s coming out in a few weeks! He’s out of the service now and working for some international conglomerate! We haven’t seen each other since the NATO wargame in Blackpool.” He said taking a long draft of beer.
“You guys serve together?”
“Yep. Afghanistan and a couple of other places.”
I continued around the room, there was a lot to take in.
“This a nice set-up! I’ve been thinking about making myself a workspace that’s more of a study or den. This ‘workstation’ deal is getting old!” I said.
“This is all a work in progress!”
“Well, of course, it is, you’re not done with life!” I countered.
He laughed. “Before I forget…..” He retrieved a couple of books from his desk and handed them to me.
“Meditations, Aurelius, Seneca, and Diogenes?” I read out loud.
“I reckon you might enjoy these. I think this is right up your alley. A little light reading!” He observed in a hushed voice and bent smile.
“Thanks.” I opened Meditations. The inside cover had his name. It was littered with post-it’s and margin notes.
“That’s a copy that my dad gave me. He was really big on Aurelius! Philosophy was a dinnertime staple! That’s for you. You can keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I think I’ve learned as much as I can from books.” He said in contemplation.
“You’re a guru now?” I asked. He laughed.
“Just a seeker, dude.”
“All these axioms, postulates, and little ‘theories’ you quote; are these hard and fast rules?” I asked as I flipped through Seneca’s book.
“Not so much. They seem to change often, extended or edited to fit my life. One I recently had to challenge is friendship with younger people. I’ve never done well in a peerage or friendship with someone younger than me.” He said with a Steve-O eye. I laughed.
“Yeah, I understand! I found older men always reaching for oxygen or wanting a joke explained.” I countered with a side-eye. We both laughed at that.
“Something else to keep in mind. I could be, and probably am, full of shit!”. He laughed.
“I’ll take that under advisement. To be honest, I suspected!” I jabbed.
Paige arrived late afternoon with an armful of groceries. I had a drink with them and went home. It was fun to see Paige play house! Days with Mac always have some kind of ‘enlightenment’ about them. With that, I’m still struggling with trust.
*****
Anzac Rugby
Early in July, it was yet another episode of the Helix Society! Mac and Paige came over late Friday morning. Elaine had a list of to-do’s and they wanted to be alone. OK, cool! Mac and I went down to Fort Baker and did some surf casting. A typical summer on the beach in San Francisco. It was nice until it wasn’t! A squall took shape and started to bear down on us. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. We surrendered and went home. I think Mark Twain was right about summer here!
We returned home around 2. We set up a small Bacchanal of power snacking. Mac found a Giants game and we dug in for the afternoon. It was a good game! We tuned in at the bottom of the fourth inning. Not much action until the seventh inning, when the Giants shortstop hit a stand-up double! That started a rally that ended with the game.
I had a rugby match I had recorded during the week. I picked up the leftovers, then put them away. I had picked up the fixins for fresh salsa and broke those out. With a little cleaning, cutting, and the ‘magic bullet’, I had a fresh pico de gallo! I put everything on a tray. Mac grabbed the beer.
“Wow, Watney’s Red! And Newcastle Brown! Nice!” He observed, opening the Watney’s.
“I’ve been wanting to try both of these for some time now!” I said.
I opened the New Castle and poured it into a glass. It has a nice color and aroma and it went down easy! Mac noticed a book on the end of the coffee table. It was ‘Meditations’.
“What do you think?” He indicated with a head bob.
“I like him very much! In some ways, his philosophy matches much of my own outlook. I think if I was going to have some sort of creed or doctrine, this is it! I want to get a feel for this, then I move into Seneca and Xeno.”
“Sounds like a good approach. Anything pop out yet?” He asked.
“Amor Fati and the analogy the cucumber and briar. Instead of getting my panties in a wad over everything that doesn’t seem to fit in my world, fuck it and ignore!” I explained.
“Interesting.” He said with that Mac smile. He reminds me of Tom Selleck. He has those ‘devious mouth corners’!
“Bites when you find out that most of the problems in your own world are self-inflicted!” I grumbled. He began a deep belly laugh.
“I’m glad you find that so entertaining!” I said flatly.
“Someday, you might have a friend that has to negotiate the same hazards of life!” He chuffed out, wiping his eyes.
“Humor in watching someone else suffer?” I grinned.
“Pain is the only true teacher. Amor Fati, brah!” He held his bottle up and I touched it.
I had just started the rugby match. It was the Oceania-Pacific championship and the game is in Sydney. This year, the Aussies versus the New Zealanders. Paige and Elaine arrived with a few packages. After getting organized and a change of clothes, they were sitting down beside us. I had brought from the kitchen with fresh beer and glasses. I had bought a set of authentic English pub pints. I poured Elaine’s first, the Paige. I had brought the tiny head right to the 16-ounce mark.
“Well played sir! On the mark! You know, there are laws about pints in England?” She said looking at the color of the brown ale in the light.
“Hmm.”
“Seriously. There are very specific laws about the filling of a pint. It has to be exactly 16 imperial fluid ounces! You can look it up.” She followed in earnest.
“I’ll take your word for it. What happens if it’s short?”
“Well Maxwell’s Silver Hammer of course!” She said with that grin of hers.
The pre-match show was giving a rundown of who’s who in today’s game. This segued into the introduction of the teams. The stadium was packed! Australia’s Southern Cross and the New Zealand flags were flying! The best comparison was a Canadian-US hockey game; a true national pride competition! The teams had marched out onto mid-field. Three lines had formed up, facing each other. The Kiwi’s Mauri players were in the front rank and began the Haka, the war dance. Many wore the Maka facial tattoos.
“Jesus, these guys look like refrigerators with a head and limbs!” Exclaimed Elaine.
Mac laughed. “They all are burly lads!”
The Aussies responded in kind. The ‘Aboriginal Front Line’ were no slouches! They sported the traditional Digger hat with the right side folded up. The answered the Kiwi’s with a well choreographed routine! The teams headed to the benches.
“Enough talking shit, huh?” Paige quipped.
The match started with a penalty! In a scrum, some poor bloke caught a knee in the face. Imagine that!
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