Chris and Lars are two old-time musicians who like to play practical jokes. If you go to an old-time music festival and see a campsite with a bust of Elvis, it just might be them. Ten years ago, I had a party at my house, and many of my old-time music friends showed up, including Chris and Lars. The next morning, when Marty went out to get the newspaper, he noticed a golden calf sitting on our deck. I knew right away who left it. I was amused, and somewhat honored that I had received this attention from the boys.

Marty, however, was offended. He felt that it was the golden calf from the Bible, the idol that the Israelites worshiped in the desert. I told Marty, “Look at this calf. It’s reclining. It’s from a nativity scene, for crying out loud.” But Marty would have none of it. At one point, I suggested that we paint it red and put it in the garden so that it would attract hummingbirds. This was not acceptable to Marty. We had to get rid of it.

How does one get rid of a 70-80 lb. unwanted sculpture? Several possibilities ran through my mind. We could go to a lawn sculpture store and leave it outside the gate. Surely, that would not be a crime. I thought about leaving it on the lawn of the government library where I worked at the time. This was before 9/11, and there was not as much surveillance at government buildings as there is now, especially not out in the Maryland suburbs.

Ultimately, I knew that the easiest way to get rid of the golden calf sculpture was to leave it out at the curb in front of my house with a sign on it reading “FREE.” Marty didn’t like the idea because he found it embarrassing. He didn’t think anyone would take it anyway. But I insisted, and made him a bet: if the cow was still there after 24 hours, I would have to drop it off somewhere and take him out to dinner at the Outback Steak House. If it was gone before then, he had to take me to the Outback. We shook on the bet at 8:08 p.m. that night. He had to carry it out to the curb for me, because it was so heavy. Strangely, he insisted on wearing gloves while he carried it, he was so repulsed by it. Then, he left and went home to his apartment in Aspen Hill, where he had been living since moving out of my house in November 1997.

It was not even two hours later that I heard a car pull up to the front of the house. It was now about 10:00 at night. I heard a door open, and the sound of mariachi music streamed out of the vehicle. I ran to the upstairs window to take a look at what was going on. By that time, the sliding door of a minivan was slamming shut, and it took off. The golden calf was gone.

This is such a silly story, but it shows how irrational Marty could be, just in order to get his way. He wasn’t that stupid a man, but he could dig his heels in on an issue if he wanted to, and no logic would work on him. I remember when we were arguing about the boys, and he told me that everyone he knew agreed with me that the boys needed to be out of our home and on their own. One of his best friends actually despised me, and the feeling was mutual. He was a misogynist pig asshole, and I was a liberal feminist. Yet, Marty admitted that he had said this to him: “Marty, I don’t even like Julie, and I agree with her. In police work, that is known as a clue.” And yet Marty said he couldn’t help it, though, and went ahead and moved out with the boys.

The strange thing about going back into my journal from ten years ago is seeing how hard I was trying to make this relationship succeed. There wasn’t a future in it, but I just didn’t know that then.

http://juliemangin.com/ten-years-ago-part-1/

You may have noticed that I have written two essays that end with “part 1,” but there is no succeeding “part 2,” at least not yet. That is not to say I won’t write them some day. But at this point, I’m wondering about it just as much as you are. In the meantime, check out this sculpture carved out of a fallen tree, which I found at Quiet Waters Park in Annapolis. In this first photograph, it is a dragon with a sleeping lady riding on its neck. A little farther down the trunk, there’s a tiger carved where the dragon’s tail ends. And the tiger’s tail encircles a little butterfly. This work is called “Spirit Dragon,” by D. H. Banker.

I hope I don’t run out of ideas to write about. If you find me writing something called Part One part 2, then you’ll know that I have. But what I’m really hoping for is inspiration. Send me some if you have any you can spare. Thanks.

Harrisonburg, Virginia is “the Friendly City.” We were there this weekend mainly because Bob has a painting in a show there (see http://www.bobcantor.com/ for details). We drove in on Route 33 (where we’ve been told you can get HALF your kicks), and ended up stopped at the intersection that faces the courthouse square. They were having an event there that involved people in 1850’s costumes. Man, did they look hot. I saw one of the presenters from a distance, and said , “Bob, that’s Sandy!” And indeed it was her with her daughter Lucy, performing in a storytelling session. We found a parking space, walked to the square, and sat among the small but attentive audience, which included her husband, Steve.

It’s always great to know someone in town that can give you tips on what to do and where to go. Steve gave us two great ones which made the weekend so much more interesting for us. First, we asked where we could get some ice cream to eat on this hot and humid day. He recommended Kline’s Dairy Bar, which not only had fabulous home made soft-serve ice cream, but had some great neon for me to photograph. While we were there, the skies opened up, and we had some much needed relief from the heat.

The other tip Steve gave us came about because we were talking about music, and we mentioned that we were both playing ukulele a lot these days. He told us that the owner of the Guitar and Amp Center had an awesome collection of ukuleles on display, and when we got there, we knew Steve was not kidding. He even had two bass ukuleles made by Gibson. The owner also answered a question I had about my 1927 Martin ukulele, and gave me the good news that the instrument I have is indeed all original. He even had one on display, so I could see for myself. I took a lot of photos, the best of which can be found on my Flickr site (http://www.flickr.com/photos/tackyjulie/).

I’ll post more about my weekend in Harrisonburg later. In the meantime, enjoy the photos!