At some point in my elementary youth, I had a three piece suit. The vest was reversible with two different colors, red and blue as I recall. I very seldom wore the vest on the red side of my own accord. It was around the latter seasons of Man from U.N.C.L.E. We went to a large church with several floors and an elevator.
I have always been able to carry on several trains of thought simultaneously. That’s why I stutter. My mouth doesn’t know which train of thought I want to vocalize. Between Sunday school and the church service, and after church while the grownups talked, kids had relative free time. And I was off on my adventures.
I didn’t really consider myself as Napoleon Solo or Illya Kuryakin. I was like a third agent. A secret part of the team as it were. It was easy to give the impression that I was successfully moving through crowds incognito. Very few of the adults knew me and they wouldn’t have given me another thought past “whose son is that ?”
I would slink onto the elevator – waiting to jump in just before the doors closed. Then I would slink from the elevator to the bathroom in the basement. I could slink with the best of them. Reaching the bathroom I whipped off my coat, quickly reversed my vest, and voilá, instant disguise. I had a pen – actually I had a lot of pens. Both of my aunts on my Dad’s side were elementary school teachers. They would give me a box full of the pens and fillers they had collected through the year. This particular pen looked cool when it was “reversed,” but only had imaginary functionality. It was how I contacted my fellow agents.
Having let the agents know my position and my plan I would slink out the bathroom and up the stairs (never take the same method of travel for the return trip). Then I would slink through the crowd (what did I tell you) popping up by my parents – and again, voilá – I was Dan Roark again. Amazingly enough, no one noticed the difference.
When we got back home I would go off and read a Hardy Boys mystery while planning my mission for the next Sunday. Basking in the glow of a mission accomplished.
Until we slink again….
Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.
Peace be with you.