Kuky Ukelady

"I got no trophies on display,

I sign them all away,

I mean what the heck...."

Heavy burgundy velvet curtains part. A figure emerges from the darkness of the junior high school theater, "What are you doing with those bid sheets?" A woman's voice projects, pronouncing every word as if performing an opera. She continues without time to respond, "No one announced the closing of the silent auction, who is in charge here, is there the lack of understanding regarding proper conduct in a silent auction?" The strong essence of patchouli oil wafts my direction as does stale breath.

She swishes at me shiny purple pants billowy, a teal velveteen coat hangs about her. On her head rests a garnet pill box hat. Coarse hair resembling tangled wire sticks out in every conceivable direction, she is a pirate of the new age. She moves towards me. Jane and Hilary sidestep to a safe spot behind the Heal the Ocean information table. I am marooned here in this place and time myself and this woman."Anger don't you step too close." I sing song inside of my head.

I look down the bid sheets. Attempting to be the calm in this sea, "What was it you were bidding on." I ask. I can hear the featured surf film, Thicker Than Water this brings me back to the reason we are here, the reason I know I must endure her . "Let me see those." She demands grabbing wrists jingle jangle. I am not about to tug of war, I release them. A quick lick of her index finger searches landing on the sheet for the Ukelele. A pair of glasses are untangled, from strands of Buddha beads, a Rosary, polished stones and the gold chain, a leash for her narrow frameless lenses. Settling down, her eyes, , magnified scan names, bid numbers, dollar amounts..

"Is this the winning bid?"A gaudy silver ringed finger points to the bottom line.

" Yes." I reply, unusually concise, I am rendered socially awkward. 

"Well, that would  be me" And then, she exclaims a Janice Joplin-ish voice exclaims. " Oh, thank god, I am the winner." Lowering  her spectacles she approaches the Ukelele, grips the neck, the base in the palm of her hand. Tight grip, strangling the neck. Inspecting the signature as if her profession is a handwriting authenticator. "Is this REALLY Jack Jonson's signature?" Her eyes are locked on Jack's instrument.

"Yes" My replies remain short, to the point, as I am becoming increasingly shy.

" Oh, you cannot begin to imagine what a FAN I am of Jack's." She inhales deeply, I turn my head wanting to avoid that stale musky breath curated over a lifetime of bong loads and doobies. Cocking her head to one side, she creepily begins backing up her super-fan claim "I have EVERY album he has cut. I have a close friend named Taylor."  At this comment, I begin to relax. I may as well enjoy this show as I was missing the one going on from the school theatre behind those curtains she entered from.

A dangerous brush with laughter. I see the most hilarious music video starring Ben Stiller he is dragging a most cumbersome long board down the hot dry sand. A neon suit from the early eighties.....I pause this vision for fear of that laugh striking. Instead once again I begin focusing

Tucking the miniature guitar under her arm, I can smell a foul body odor. "I REALLY go for this sort of thing. I was totally into The Smiths, the whole Morrissey thing. I went to a concert at the bowl once, close enough to feel his sweat, sweet rain. I never washed that Smith's shirt. I framed it hung it on my bedroom wall.

" in '84, I bought a Pretender's mock album cover signed by the entire band, except for Jim Honeyman Scott. He was dead. I almost caught Keith's pick at a Stones show." She lifts her free arm cupped hand reliving the moment. A sparkle glistens, in her eye.

"In May of '76, I followed Bob's tour bus from the Roxy. I had to stop for gas, otherwise I just have seen Wailers...Ziggy."

She hugs the Ukelele to her chest, breath shallow sways side to side." I hoped for her to breath for fear she might pass out like a young, crazed Beatles fan. " I am quite certain Jack will want to know a fan such as myself." I am breathing for her, god forbid she faints, mouth to mouth would be near to impossible a gag nearly happened. She ever so carefully sets her soon to be prize down. Rummaging about her Guatamalen, I fear she might have a weapon. Finally her hand emerges holding a lavender colored business card, A

"Alakazam" the card reads. There is a scratched out part, her phone number I assume. "Will you please let Jack know of me?"

"I will do my damnedest." I envisioned future complication in the strings between the cans.

She writes out a check then for the agreed amount. "Thank you ever so much for your generous to the Jr. High School Surf Team and Heal the Ocean" I tell her as I am certain she has lost track of the cause.

"Do you know, is tuned up?"

" I am not so sure."I am honest in my answer.

"Hmmm...." This pirate shrugs." I can find out. I am very connected to folks in the music industry, you know."

.....and so it goes.

Thanks for your generosity Jack and Kim, the event was a grand success.

Love , Sally