PROLOGUE
Bathsheba, Jezebel and the Queen of Sheba

Three am. I wake again. This time, the nightmare so vivid I’m shakinng. My breath is coming so hard an elephant on my chest couldn’t make it worse. Heart Beat? A-fib, De-fib, I’m not sure. One thing is sure, it is not regular, much like poor #3 Safety Damar Hamlin who took a hard hit to the chest, died and came back to life in a miraculous manner on the football field in split minutes. Let’s not forget to mention Raphael’s amazing hand in the opening play of the next game. 3 years 3 months since the Buffalo Bills ran back a kick-off for a touchdown. Only Archangel Raphael could invent such a plot twist and garner prayers from billions, $30 or $40 contributions from 25 million people for a kids’ Christmas Toy Drive. Yes, my tweets set that in motion with a lovely young sports reporter, also a former Buffalo Bills Safety.

How could my heart not be skipping beats after watching yet another story, this one a drug-dealing double cross where two witnesses escape to a small tropical island somewhere in the middle of a huge ocean only to be tracked down in 6 months and beheaded. Yeah. Kind of hard to sleep after that. Three weeks of watching movies where people who stumble across drug dealers come to horrendous odd deaths.

Meanwhile, the perps are living in Pent-Houses drinking champagne, sailing in multi-million dollar yachts with someone else cleaning, maintaining and otherwise doing all the hard work. Yes, I understand the magnitude of that effort, having spent 20 years on and under the water myself, having to do my own dirty work, bottle washing, logistics managements, and all else. Suddenly these movies where innocent bystanders get sucked in are airing and capturing my attention, sleepless nights are hardly a surprise.

Looking back now, not a coincidence. Simply very effective manipulation. Very. Effective. Gaslighting. Definitely planting and watering a seed to achieve a desired outcome. One of three likely choices among a plethora of distant possibilities. This time. Much different than in the worst of The Dive Bar nightmare. Even then, I didn’t fear for my life the same way. The bad guys had to cross the hill to reach me in the dark of night, which none did after a long day of smoking n sitting. Next they have to pass without waking that mean hungry dog on a long chain. He still barked when I walked through after 3 years. Stepping foot onto my landlord’s property? Not so much. A God-fearing, highly respected local who had thankfully taken me under his wing as though I was a daughter or niece from another country. He afforded me protection, regardless of my white skin. I had somehow become part of his family. No one dare mess with me there.

No my concerns back then were all about the money. And making it through daily abuse and torture, not severe threats of physical harm. Still not certain how I managed to stem that risk and threat, but I had. Was it me practicing “Love Thy Enemy”; or was it that smoke screen I sent up about connections in DC, a smoke screen not entirely fictional. While I NO understand the full force of probable deniability and risk, I certainly applied it to my benefit.

Here, I’m actually fearing for my personal safety, and for those I interact with. No, here and maybe there too, Leonard Cohen “Hallelujah”; resonates sending chills through my soul. Threats instilled with such vehemance, it brings back memories of Grandma singing “When the Saints Come Marching in, Glory, Glory Hallelujah”; I didn’t listen to lyrics until I arrived on LaAmoria Isle. I’d sing along without even thinking of what the words were, much less meant. No mas. “Hallelujah. 7 chords that pleased the Lord.” Almost as many rock stars and music greats sing that song as sing Amazing Grace. You still think that there is no God? No Satan? Explain how Bon Jovi and Alan Jackson and Elvis and Johnny Cash all sing Hallelujah and Amazing Grace as though they wrote it. You can almost tell which music great DIDN’T sell their soul to the Devil to get their platinum hits by who sings Amazing Grace or Hallelujah as though it was written for them. How Great Thou Art as well. No these are people who at rock bottom, reached out for the hand that Jesus offers. When he pulled them to safety, remembered. Not ones who sold their soul to the Devil for trinkets.t

Leonard Cohen’s”Hallelujah” David & Bathsheba. Not mentioned nearly as often as David & Goliath, is it? Is the lesson any less valuable? No. Just not as saintly. Its just an example of what NOT to do, instead of an example of good behavior. As a teacher, I get that you really want to stress good habits and good role models, but God does tend to use those who are less saintly to effect the greatest impact in the most average people. Those say who watch football Sunday Mornings rather than put their butts in pews praising the Lord. Where are the more reachable? How do you reach the, if not black sheep, then at least those with hooves that may have picked up barnyard doo-doo.

The other 2? Wintley Phipps 8 minute version of Amazing Grace, sung like the Captain of the slave ship who wrote down the tune. It was some poor scared, wretched soon to be slave, formerly free man perhaps even tribal lord humming from the rank and stank belly of a slave ship 6 weeks into a 3 month Atlantic Crossing where people were rotting and dying beside him. You think that man EVER got that tune out of his head? Why did he become a first major force against Slave Trade? You think he ever had a moment’s peace? Think how many times a tune got stuck in your head. Imagine that one. This not so good, but eventually so effective Captain, wrote words to this haunting tune that two hundred years later affects any person with a modicum of good in their heart. Wonder where the word haunt came from? I do.

Three am. Joel Osteen. Always good for a healthy dose of “Hang in There, just a little bit longer.”; “Thank God he’s on YouTube to goodify and offset the haunting movies. (Yea, 3 years and 3 months now, how much longer am I supposed to hang onto this high branch with one claw. Even Rehab has lost another tooth. Rehab be the stray cat who adopted me when I was praying for love during The Dive Bar drama.) More Joel Osteen’s “God is with us. Believe. Do the right thing, Wait. We are all in this together. God will step in. You just don’t know where or when, but He has and He will. Okay, that statement is the overlap and intersection of my own personal beliefs merged with Joel’s sermons.
Osteens kitten story captured me 20 years ago. The one where little Sally prays for a kitten after Mom said no for the hundredth time, unless God sends you one. Little Sally goes in the back yard, gets on her knees and asks God for a kitten. Lo and Behold, a kitten drops from the sky beside her. The number of times I begged Mom for a kitten? 1000’s. Mine just showed up 30 years later. Oh if Little Sally’s neighbor’s attempt to rescue a kitten can cause a branch to launch a mewing terrified kitten 300 feet away landing right next to a little girl praying for a kitten, who am I to say there is NO GOD. What are the odds?

And if God can do that. And if God got me out from under The Dive Bar intact except for my savings, which in all honesty was probably his share and 10% of my business income over the years I was sinking every penny in after bad. If God can bring back a 24-year old Safety after an unreal badly timed hit. If God can bring Rehab back for the 4th time, this time after strangely losing another tooth right before we were to fly right after I mistakenly let people know we needed his health cert, right after a mountain bike tire on my wheelchair went flat. If God can do that, then how can God NOT step in when I truly had acted in the interest of the greater good and to my own detriment, even if not entirely unbeknownst to me at the time. Clearly, God could. God would. In the 11th hour. Always after He gives everyone a chance, and another, and another, to overcome their pathetic and tawdry human ego and entitlement, step up to do the right thing. No one will ever be able to say God didn’t give them the opportunity, or lesson, to do the right thing. He does. Repeatedly. Hell’s made for those who choose not to, no matter who they are or where they rule.

So when I start to see changes in My Favorite Musician’s set. In his music. In new lyrics, that strangely match my fictionalized account of what is scaring the bejeezus out of me, in the middle of the storm, in the middle of the mystery. Lord i only known then we were no way near the middle. We were barely out of the Gate. If only then I understood that much as God waits for the 11th Hour, the Devil launches missile after missile during the first 10. Her story, my story echoes stories of old, new, and a million in between. It is NOT new, replete with the poor musician, a King gone mad, an heir-apparent in waiting, and a kingdom aroil in a pandemic of biblical proportions, much like those that plagued ancient Egypt. Institutions crumbling around the edges include the Pony Express, Inspector Gadget’s Office. Every kitchen cupboard is ready to topple, or at least hobble like a crippled racehorse about to be put into a stud farm instead of being sold for glue as if he were a wild mustang in a distasteful round-up on public lands.
I hear beautiful renditions of new songs, with ever increasing sound effects, with increasingly effective close-up of musicians hands sans BuddyH and the Boys’ red converse tennies, with a different beautiful yet different from the Dive Bar’s late Friday nights with the moon rising and sparkling like diamonds off black water through a stone arch that perfectly frames mounts covered with emerald green trees, 365 nights a year. Visual backgrounds improve on these new local tunes, so too does rhyming of original lyrics as my recently discovered rhyming tricks and ideas spread across the airwaves.
Raise a Hallelujah.
Everything inside of me
Watch the darkness flee
Raise a Hallelujah

Middle of the Storm,
Middle of a Mystery
Fear you lost your hold on me,
Heaven comes to fight for me
Hear me sing your praises
Let hope rise from the ashes,
Sing a little louder and louder,
This is how I fight my battles,
My weapon is a melody
Sing a little louder in the presence of my enemy
It may look like I’m surrounded but God is surrounding you.
Over & Over
Guide me through my dreams
Louder than the unbelief.
This is how I fight my battles
My weapon is a melody
Sing a little louder in the presence of my enemy.
This is what I play in the middle of the night when I wake in a start with a jump, heart beat off like a 5th grade concert in the fall. The first rhyming lyric I noticed was much more direct and before my rhyme writing technique was widely adopted:
Id Make my way through the water
Walk me through the fire,
Do what you are famous for
Shut the mouth of Lions,
Bring me back to life.
I believe in you.
Release your love inside me,
Unleash your power for all to see.

Is that paying it forward or is that paying it back? Either way, Joel Osteen got me through many sleepless nights, and each Sunday I watch their music performances get better and better. The lyrics, the music the filming, the sound, the lighting, the background, lyrics on the screen, duets, and lets give credit where credit is due. The ultimate version of Amazing Grace. Victor Wooten on Bass. Or better yet, Victor Wooten’s masterpiece, “The Music Lesson”;. I read it applying it not toward music, but towards communication, and towards self-evolution as he did. Google that one (Sorry Mitch. We know how much you hate it when people use Google as a verb).
How many times did I relay my techniques to many whose speeches, briefings, news clips and interviews I critique as though the speaker is listening as I pretend to solve all the worlds problems on paper. What else can one do to occupy themselves during six months of self-imposed isolation waiting for a clear message that the coast is clear for the safety of the one I most feared harm, those I unintentionally involved, or those who had involved me, intentionally or not.

That the coast is only cleared after I return to work, which was after my first manuscript was submitted to the publisher and updated with the political elements, and this one was nearly complete can hardly be a coincidence. This the first election year where my “Sav-Da-Worl”; games took effect. 2 years l later after a third manuscript now at the publisher in a 4th final edit spread across an inordinantly long 5 months, I pull this file back out. Surprise. Nothing new, only new events. Timing again, not surprisingly a surprise. This time Publicans back in power with slim majority, but Senate Majority is preserved.

Now is that believable? Hard to say. Less hard to believe after everyone watched the Buffalo Bills Safety come back to life . Note that the effects of what I said were incorporated, AFTER I SAID IT, is NOT in doubt, nor the smiles or frowns on the faces of newscasters and those being interviewed or providing commentary changed in accordance with my suggestions, as real and vividly as did my Divemaster candidates performance improve under my coaching. What is surprising is that both sides’ performance, content and delivery improved in accordance with my suggestions.

Funny, Huh? I guess you can say that 8th day of November 2016 when I woke to a fully rocked world, its the first time I thought I better leave my passion for diving to go back to the real work and make sure things stay on track, out of fear for whats about to come down upon our heads. As Chicken Little in Grandma’s story used to say, “The Sky is Falling, The Sky is Falling.” No one believed her, until actually the sky fell on their heads. Like the story I didn’t believe either, not until I am no longer walking, Rehab has used up 4 more lives, and it appears even players’ children are not off limit. Yes that is when my resolve quadruples, my defiance rises, and I know I will fight to the death to make sure these Bastards pay. It is then I remember, that all I must do is Stand, for as Joel Osteen says, the Battle is the Lords, and as PreacherMan read from me that one night now 10 long difficult years ago, Ephesians 6. Stand. In truth, In righteousness, and one other such word.

———————-
There I am in my usual spot right beside Grandma one Saturday night. She’s seated in her chair at the table end where she can see both the TV in the living room and into the little yellow room. I’m in my perch beside her on the high chair stepping stool they bought for me after I woke up that morning when no one was home and ran two miles Aunties’ farm. Age three. I tried to make the call, too young to understand that the buzzing was not a broken phone, but a missing dial tone. They had me memorize everyone’s phone numbers after that. They bought me the stool. I’d drag it next to Grandma, my own little princess throne.

Try as I might, I cannot remember whether this was the night I saw the Daring Dobermanns before Grandpa could change the channel or whether this night we watched one of those old elaborate Hollywood productions of Biblical Stories they roll and re-roll. What I do remember is flurry of stories that to this day is confused in a jumble of Me Too’s and Power of Authority Abuse, twisted into a myriad of little girl understanding with the only clear moral of the story being, beauty on the inside and a man’s actions, not promises, are what matters. I’m prolly seven. So the moral sticks to me like fresh gum to a rubber sole, ultimately that failure to comply means, “Do Not Pass Go, you won’t make it to Heaven.
This is prolly also the time to mention when I visited my cousin;s farm and their German Shepherd almost bit off my ear, (Dad’s cousin did not punish the dog the way Dad would have, That was the last time I visited their farm). Or the day I’m running home from my friend’s house, late for lunch when an unleashed blue heeler came to greet me with a bite instead of smile. Some neighborhood boys threw rocks and teased the poor thing. He didn’t know the difference between me and them. I froze in fear in the middle of the street, he ran out and gave my leg a huge bite. That got me a tetanus shot, and worse, I was quarantined so out of the pool for 10 days in June. Keep that in mind when you try to convince me of the relative merits of cats and dogs. But I digress.
“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk” Grandma says shaking her head as she did. Yes the same one who taught me not to judge a book by its cover or pre-judge based on appearance; HOWEVER, I’ve since learned that once someone shows their True Colors, rules change. It did not for her. She applied the 7 x 70 to how many times must you forgive your brother in Mathew 18. Grandma always holding out hope that black sheep could repent and rejoin the flock. That prodigal son is always welcomed home. Reconcile, balance, match that! Try, I Dare You.

“Honey, you don’t have to be afraid of dogs.”
But Grandma, I still can’t go to the pool.
“Thats true, honey but there are much worse things. This too shall pass.”
I’m seven, really struggling with “try your best to be a good girl, grin and bear it’ “Grandma, it really really hurt. Dobermann are scary.”

“The Father up above is always looking down with love. As long as you aren’t a Jezebel, he will never let a dog do more than break your skin.” This night, she took that tack rather than reminding me of Julie Andrews singing “when a dog bites, when a bee stings, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don’t feel so bad”

Who’s Jezebel? Is my simple seven-year old question that launches the trilogy that includes Bathsheba and the Queen of Sheba tainting the reigns of David and Solomon. Where meanings are conveyed in dreams and points made through riddles. Where songs and Hallelujah’s provide relief to sinners. Where beautiful melodies restore heroes to God’s good grace, after the hero spent enough time considering the effects of his misguided steps. Oh those who think Hollywood invented abuse of power, adultery, wiles and double crosses. No, Old Testament is full of these tales, even among Gods favorites, among those who earned highest honors and rewards for well-performed duties. After Satan sends in his best henchmen ofts instilling desire for another’s prized possession or love.

Opposite is the comparative value of the poor woman who gave her only penny as an offering to God, while other parishioners with billions giving a million- Who gave more? What about the Wealthy King who took the only lamb from the poor man’s yard? David who stood up to Goliath, who dutifully waited for thirteen years, who refused to attack God’s duly appointed King as a poor musician who doubled as dad’s shepherd boy, or Solomon, who’s wily mother, another early stage-mother model, ensured her son was placed on the throne and she became Queen-Mother, over get this- nine hundred and ninety-nine other wives and concubines. That certainly puts life into historical context, does it not

This makes one wonder how the Brothers Grimm ever invented the concept of Happily Ever After and poor little girls with good hearts who grow up to be wise, beautiful or kind, is enough to propel them into becoming a princess, after being locked inside a tower, or evil Fairy’s spell, or sleeping for one hundred years. Who were the Brothers’ Grimm anyway to even come up with their tales that changed the hearts and minds of women everywhere, especially after Walt Disney latched onto the concept, obliterating the tales of human nature as told by Shakespeare, the Bible, or Greek and Roman Mythology.

State of New York
Executive Chamber
Albany 12224
Andrew M. Cuomo
GOVERNOR
Dear Brett
I am glad that we had the opportunity to share the COVID poster with you. In life we must know our strengths and weaknesses, and I know that I am not an artist. I have no such talent. But sometimes its the thought that matters and that is the case with the poster.

The school of early 1900s poster art has always interested me and the poster is a graphic representation of our journey. The visualization of climbing a mountain was a device that I used to keep myself motivated. Every day we had to take another step up the mountain. Exhausted, frustrated but determined, we carried on. On the climb up we didnt even know how high the mountain was. All we could do was keep going. At the same time the mountain itself being sculpted by the actions that we were taking. “Flattening the curve” would determine the height of the mountain and begin the descent.
While I would never want to do it again, the experience taught me much. I learned to never underestimate the essential goodness, strength and generosity of our people. I truly believe there is nothing we cant do when we are committed and united.

This difficult chapter in our life is not yet over and I am sure there will be more challenges ahead, but our progress is undeniable. Thank you for all you do. Lets stay smart and safe.
P.S. I hope you enjoy the poster. If you have suggestions or comments please email to COVIDmountain@exec.ny.gov.
P.P.S. Boyfriend Cliff is a nice place because I like the boyfriend.

Sincerely,

Governor Andrew M. Cuomo
Copyright © 2020 New York State, All rights reserved.
You are receiving this email because you purchased a New York Tough Poster commemorating the path New York took during COVID-19 Pandemic.
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BRETT XXXX

Attachments5:03 PM (0 minutes ago)

to Governor
Sir,
I totally get the mountain you created. I too have limited artistic talent, actually yours far surpasses mine, if that tells you anything. As I watched you every day all the while applying my planning engineer, Scuba Instructor, and Sea Captain experiences. I walked with you each step of the way evaluating, anticipating and even offering suggestions as I jokingly told my long-time friend and confidante via email, that I was solving all the problems of the world on paper. There were times it felt like you were reading my emails and applying lessons I learned the hard way and through observation.

So many incidents, the most notable I believe was an “Into Thin Air” Mount Everest analogy, a recap of my weekly charter to the Wreck of HMS The Drone, and a few suggestions to you to take care of yourself. For without your Leadership, I feared the nation would implode from lack of action or possibly intentional inaction. I even quite boldly critiqued your presentations offering suggestions as I would to one of my Divemaster Candidates. Just the day before you showed your poster I told my friend how I used a similar device. That is not the only parallel we share, for I worked in Federal Building during the Riots and wiped out by Hurricanes IrMaria as we locals called the double whammy.
I was NOT HAPPY when you suddenly curtailed your daily briefings, for fear we would lose our progress in the fight against the deadly COVID Virus. I must also confess that you provided me great solace which I was loath to lose. After watching your briefing in the morning, I’d watch it again as I fell asleep, and please take this in the positive light I viewed it, you so completely reassured me that I was able to fall asleep. Something I struggled with for months. So obviously I was NOT HAPPY to see them end.
I am likely your greatest admirer, both on a professional and personal level from what I can see from afar. The way you apply your personal beliefs and morals echoes resoundingly and effectively in all you do as it appears from here. On the other hand I was ever so pleased with the Fireworks display at the Empire State Building, a landmark near and dear to me since I was a little girl in midwest. I even once insisted that we run up to see it when we visited my Aunt in DC many years ago.
My job was recently interrupted leaving me at home with not much to keep myself entertained during Shelter-In-Place, so I finally finished writing a novel. One of many I have started since my city days. You play quite a large role in it, and I would be most honored if you took a look at it before it hits print. I promise that your every comment would be addressed to the extent possible. I would even buy dinner.
You are portrayed in a most positive light with possible exception of discussions between your Father and mine, a literary device I created in an effort to show that New Yorkers, even politicians, are not that different from Midwestern farmers. Your dad walks by my dad who ekes his way into Heaven on a loophole I found, so is restricted to the outskirts of Heaven where your dad often takes his morning stroll.
In my overactive imagination, he overhears my dad still talking about my single status. On the basis of my ability to talk smack, my figure always a strength, my brain particularly in the matter of governance and project management, and my love of Football your dad strikes up a chat with mine and they decide to meddle, pushing us toward each other as we together help solve the COVID-Crisis. (Please pardon my presumptuousness, but often my ideas preceded your discussion of similar topics in your daily briefings.)

I thought the matching-making dads a nice touch since that is something single people throughout the entire universe endure from their families, and again might help show similarities between city and country folk. Perhaps being recently single yourself, you may have not yet been inundated with this annoying tendency.
In Re your P.S.S. Im not quite sure what to think about that. I’m withholding judgment on your opinion on The Boyfriend. As a single woman I have learned to observe these things first. You do appear quite naughty in this situation, contrary to my otherwise assessment of your character as nearly perfect. You should have seen the way my Dad talked about my boyfriends. He could find fault with the best of them. You being the bible student you are, you might even appreciate that Dad found fault with King David, a nearly perfect man in God’s eyes. Yes, of David and Goliath. And David was Dad’s namesake. So I’m reserving judgment.

In the event you would like to discuss this, I can be reached at xxxxxxx. I am in LaAmrioa Isle, so hours behind you, although like you, I often am awake at night, especially without your daily briefings. I have attached a one-page summary of the novel which has been submitted for editing to a Publisher.

Looking forward to your continued successes,
Brett
BTW I received a status email from your office yesterday, and tried to send a response. It Bounced.
Date: Wed, 5 Aug 2020 13:18:28 -1000
Subject: Re: Important update on COVID-19

Thank You Sir for all you have done, and continue to do. I was ever so happy, relieved and proud to hear your National Governors Association acceptance speech, which laid out a remarkable path forward. I am certain that under your leadership, an all-out full-court press on each item will simultaneously happen and lead us out of the debacle the rest of the country stumbled into. Had they only followed the exemplary template you built while dealing with COVID threat real-time, and in record-time, as it ambushed you, life across the nation would be much closer to normal. Please keep focus on indoor air quality, as we are fast coming into winter.

My thoughts, prayers, and heartfelt sympathy are with you as you mourn the loss of your inspiration and Fathers friend. It is my hope that you will find new sources of inspiration as you lead the nation out of this economic and health threat.

All the best,
Brett

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
——————

THE LEAST OF MY BRO
STORY SYNOPSIS
To My Friend Oliver. This is how far I got on adding in the deli meat, or is it the bread? Or the spinach & pesto? To recap and expand on my answer to your last question.

I am not depressed. I am without clear direction and it is hard to find hope in that. No pity party, but the tailwinds from the Hurricanes Irmaria have yet to set me down, or if this is it, O, I keep straying from the Yellow Brick Road. Every time I think maybe Im back on the Yellow Brick Road, I find myself in some strange field with flying monkeys all around. And do you know I have NEVER liked that movie. I think it was teasing from my uncles or baby brother during it, but that is only a vague disturbing memory from when I was young. It still shivers mi timbers.
As I sit here trying to figure out where my life is going, as I realize I have to leave behind what I thought it would be. AGAIN. Yet the path forward is still unclear where, what it will be. You and I talked about why I have focused on a return to FedServ and that is accompanied by certain restraints. Due to the type of work here on this island, there are numerous clearances required, and lengthy investigations. I dont completely understand all of that so have taken particular cautions, all compounded by my suggestions, by the COVID virus.
Ive been writing on books since I met you. So three years now :). Yet I haven’t finished one. On 11 March my cousin asked, “When do you think you’ll go back to work?” followed by, “What are you going to do while you wait for a report date?”;. I said “Well best case I;ll get back to work by 30 June. She said, “Thats enough time to finish your book”. “You’re right” I said after a quick minutes thought. When I got off the phone, I began in earnest to consolidate many partial stories and versions. Until now, I had only beginnings and no endings. Now I have all the pieces, for most of my book ideas, 7 or 8, depending on how it shakes out.
During the COVID crisis I realized elements from this particular segment are relevant. When the George Floyd situblew up that was confirmed and enhanced. So I once again broadened and re-sequenced the story line and first book to finish. Then I got sick. I’m not sure if I’m sick again, or just so-so and feeling slightly under. Regardless, I realized there are commonalites among all those in my circle of influence, whether you call them friends or diving family. It spans the entire country. These inherent beliefs, norms and values are more unifying than dividing. So I broke this segment out using a literary device that I believed might help to bridge the gaps.
Two things control in both books. I have added imagined relationship with 2 figures to make the story more interesting. On the other hand because some could look to acquaintances who might fit the bill, tho all characters are fictionalized, they are perhaps influenced by a compilation of many whom I encountered, and so this fictional account could affect their lives. In particular, this book refers to a real live Political Figure who I’ve never met nor interacted with. So it still is a fictional account. Since there is no real way to get input from those who may be ghosted as I danced around the outskirts in this fictional account incorporating stories and imaginings throughout the book. Because this is just a fictional way to express observations and lessons learned in my life, I would like to get input so that their perspective would represented so as to minimize negative BS by those who might construe a real relationship. That is not the point, and that would require input. Which I do not have. And it is unclear how to go about getting that.
With that in mind, I submitted the prior manuscript and am half-way through this one, knowing that all can be modified and added later if events unfold so that input is received in a timely manner, I’d. re-write it anyway that works for them. Remembering that in the fictional account, it makes no difference to me whereas in the real world I may have an opinion on my romantic life. Although given what a shy retiring demure creature I am, it is hard to imagine that I might have an opinion on anything, even something so personal as my love life, or lack thereof.
Of course the Least of My Brothers speaks to Mark 25 and the belief that the way we treat others, especially in those who are less fortunate, along with my history of friendship with sets of brothers since Jr High. In my imaginings, the Angel Raphael has a funny sense of humor that makes one wonder how much of life is guided, if not pre-determined. For the critical element in the way the Earth works is that all are given Free Will. And that is both the biggest blessing and curse upon mankind. But set-up or guided, my imagination has humans following a treasure map through our own Pirates Blight as we make our way to the Pearly Gates.
I’m typing this directly in Gmail so am not spellchecking before I hit send. This will give you an idea of my unedited typing ability. For my mind goes much faster than my fingers.

OPENING SCENE.
COVID-19. Stay at Home. Seems like forever.
St Patty’s Day — Stay at Home. Easter — Stay at Home. Cinco de Mayo — Stay at Home. Mother’s Day, Memorial Day — Stay at Home. 4th of July — Stay at Home Again? Unreal. My life has come to a grinding halt. Can’t go out & dash; Nowhere to Go. Unending Groundhog Day at Home. Day 117. Well. Let’s Check out Macy’s Fireworks. First Time Ever from Atop the Empire State Building? Are you Kidding Me? Way beyond God Wink. Karma. Coincidence. For Sure!

Fireworks from every opening! Empire State Building lit up like a Rocket to Heaven. Fireworks Over Bridges! Fireworks over the State of Liberty! And The Music! New Broadway Show. Get Ready; Reach Out. Harlem Gospel Choir singing Higher and Higher. Frankie Singing New York, New York. Shivers and Goosebumps combine to Light Up My Life.
INTRO.
Wedding Dance at City Hall. Dad and Henry talking about how Timmy and I will someday get married. I’m in Heaven because I’ve been in love with Timmy since third grade, so 2 years now. Trouble is he acts as though he doesn’t know I exist, very hard in a small town. Denny, Timmy and I do the Butterfly dance. If you’ve never seen this, its like the do-si-do part of a square dance except that 3 are dancing together. The boys take turns seeing how far they can fling me to the other’s arm. On the last round I miss the arm go sliding across the City Hall Floor 50 feet, mopping up spilled beer with my beautiful new white sundress. Mom’s gonna be furious. I’m having too much fun to care.

Harry, Dad’s best buddy and my best friend’s dad, comes over to teach me dancing. He props me up on his feet so I feel him matching his motion to the Music as we dance the 2-Step. The waltz and polka are still far beyond me. That is how I learned to match my motion to others. At the next Wedding Dance. Dad and I jitterbug to Kansas City.
Every Wedding Dance, Dad, Henry, Ted and a few extras who wander in and out always sing, “In Heaven there is No Beer, (No Beer echoes) That’s why we drink it here. (It here. Reverbs), and another of their favorite drinking songs.
Show me the way to go home. I had a little drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head. Where ever I may roam. By land or sea or air. You can always hear me singing this tune. Show me the way to go home.
Show me the way to go Home, COLLEGE VERSION. Dad and I rewrote it together one road trip to see Mount Rushmore and go to the dograces. ‘Show me the way to my residence. I’m fatigued and I want to retire. I had an ounce about 60 minutes ago and it went straight to my cerebellum. Now wherever I may roam, by terra, sea or atmospheric vapor, you can always hear me singing this tune. Show me the way to my residence now.’
Homecoming. Timmy is elected King, I’m elected Queen. Dad gives me cash for a new dress. “Don’t tell your Mother. Look what I won playing poker” as he shows me a wad of bills. “Go buy yourself a new dress. The one your Mother got NOT gonna cut it for My Baby Girl”. Course Mom n Sisi caught wind of that. No New Dress. Had to wear that stupid ugly prom dress they found on the sales rack.

Heaven. Years later. Dad and Henry talking about how they could have gotten it so wrong. Clearly it should have been Timmy and Bretr rom the get-go. Randomly Mario is taking his walk around the edge of Heaven in prep for the day. He’s often seen the 4 of them sitting on the curbside of Heaven. On the outermost street where the gold is thin and souls are few. Dad Harry, and Spot. Sometimes Frank walks over to reminisce about the good old days.

This day Dad and Frank again trashing, they cannot believe how Brett Never Got Married.

“Not once?” asks Frank.

“Nah.” Says Dave.

“It makes no sense. “Says Frank. “I always liked her so much. She has such a big heart, is so kind. Such a desire for excellence, such a strong belief in God and Jesus. Remember when she was little? She went to church all by herself, kindergarten”

Dad says. “Beats Me. SHE HAD CHANCES”
Henry says, “Is because you always said no one was good enough, Dave.”

Dad says, “I’d have told her to marry Timmy.”
Frank “Yea. If not for that accident I’d have have pushed him in her direction. Nice Girl. Such a nice little girl. Always so friendly and good to everyone in the community. The way she loved her grandparents, and all their friends. And all the little kids.
Ted says, “Maybe it’s that smart mouth you taught her.”

Dad says, “Yeah, and she always was too smart for her own good. But she could hold her own against anyone. Word for word. A real go-getter.”

This day, Mario can’t help but butt in. So this daughter of yours. She still single?
They all crack up laughing. Dad. “Yeah. It’s beyond me. She’s pretty, not like her mother and sister, but still pretty. Built like a brick $#!T Hou$e, always in great shape, that’s what everyone always says. I kept telling her she better find someone to keep her in the style to which she’s become accustomed. Lord knows why, instead she just learned to do it for herself. Loyal. Faithful. Stands up for her Friends. Makes no Sense.

Ted says, “Well, she did get your temper. They all guffaw at that.
Mario says. Same Here. I got a son. Can’t make it work longer than 15 years with a woman. He’s good looking, hard-working, a national figure. Gets Things Done. He tries, but never ends up with the right woman.
Dave: “Yeah. My daughter too. So much going for her in so many ways. Done just about everything. Big variety. Works long hours. Plays hard. Really knows how to have fun. Loves to go places. Always has a good story. Can talk to anyone. Her choice in men? Can’t figure it out. She can pick a winning football team, but not a winning boyfriend.
Mario. “She likes football on top of all that? And talks smack? Still single? I got an idea.”

Dave plows right through the interruption: Well football took a while. We had this fight every, cough, week for the TV on Monday nights. Her mother had this rule. We only had the one TV. Got only two channels. CBS and NBC. The CBS station played some ABC so they picked and choosed from the two Networks. That’s how we got Monday Night Football. House rule was whoever got to the TV first, well you couldnt change the channel on them. So baby girl wants to watch Monday Night at the Movies. Course her brother and I want to watch Football. So she being the pain that she was, Henry kindly pipes in with, “Now Dave, some would say persistent and smart, Dave, keeps talking as tho Henry didn’t say a work. Baby Girl would park in front of the TV as soon as she got home from school and not budge. Drove us crazy until I finally worked out a bet with her. Let her pick the winner. So she sits there asking us 10 million questions a minute. We can barely watch the game. I try just giving her the dollar, but she says, You can’t buy me off with a lousy dollar. What are you gonna do? I gave her 4:1 odds. Answered 10 million questions a minute.
FLASH TO EARTH: Meanwhile, I can’t sleep. I email my friend Oliver. This story pops into my head. No idea why. Completely out of the blue. Oliver, Did I ever tell you this story? “On Mondays, they’d come in early from the field, in case you didn’t know, harvest goes well into football season. We’d have this terrible, terrible fight every week. Id end up crying, running from the room cuz they’d break the rule and change channels on me even though I’m firmly planted on the living room floor stretching, trying to do the splits. Im sure I told you this story. After a couple weeks Dad tries, “You put up a quarter (my allowance is 50 Cents), I’ll put up a dollar. You pick. I may have only been 9, but I figured out 4 to 1 odds very quickly.
The Colts were playing. Against a New York Powerhouse team, which never happens anymore, but at the time there was a good New York team. Whats up with that anyway? How is it that New York cant get a good football team? I mean every once in a while the Bills win a Super Bowl. I still remember the year Buffalo was behind Houston 28-0 at halftime in the Championship. Then Houston lays down the entire second half. Buffalo wins and that starts a Buffalo Bills run that time. But how is it that New York City never has a multi-year run? They own baseball but not football. Interesting.
(In his Daily Briefing the next morning, Cuomo explains the Giants and Jets left New York years ago. Note to self: Oh, Now I know. That’s probably why Dad was so upset about Meadowlands that time. Maybe that was it. Then why don’t they call them the New Jersey Jets or Giants?)
Anyway it might have been Dallas. Back when the Cowboys called themselves Americas team. Long before those damn Patriots, yeah dont get me started on the Patriots. Or Tom Brady. Dude the first year he beat my Team in the SuperBowl. After, I kept picking the other team. Who knew hed have a 20 year run? NOT my favorite. Since they flew to get the masks I gotta cut ‘em some slack, even if they did bend the laws of physics to win a SuperBowl.
Oh that was another Super Bowl I lost. All because of a frozen football. My San Diego Chargers had to play out in the open in Ohio long ago. I still remember not understanding why they couldnt catch the ball. They had 3 of the best Receivers in the League, plus an Arm. Dan Fouts, man. Loved him. Dad explains, “Its like catching a frozen brick cuz its, like you know, 20 below zero. So the news breaks about PV=nrt which I teach every week in scuba diving. Pressure increases when you go underwater. Some Boston people bring that up in class that week. We had quite a little chat. Im sure you can imagine. The Patriots were always dads team. He played High School football with their defensive coach long before they were winners. Middle of night musings and ramblings. Im talking into speaker again, Oliver, so pardon punctuation. My rambling is prolly worse at night than it is daytime.
So anyway I put up a quarter. Dad put up a dollar. I get to pick. Colts versus Buffalo. Of course I’m gonna take the Colts. I love horses. I love baby animals. I know nothing about football. What else do I pick? Colts win. WIN. Dad’s pissed. Called me a lucky little s***. But thats how he ended our weekly argument. 4:1 odds. I get to pick. At some point, he paid me $1 to mink oil his cowboy boots. I hated that job. He always had to beg to get me to do that. Not that Im stubborn or anything. Dad and my brother were patient, answering all my stupid questions, Ad nauseum, teaching me the ins and outs of football.
Meanwhile. Flash to the Chess Game.
Devil. I’m sick of her. I’m taking her out or up.
God: I keep telling you. You’re not going to get her to sell out. She hasn’t. She’s not gonna now. Not after you stuck her out in Pirate’s Blight. Really? She took on Love Thy Enemy with that gang? Made it out alive? With their help? You still gonna come after her? Why do you think now would be any different?
Devil. Because she saw what life is like back Stateside. Its so bleak. So grey. People lost sight of anything about how they might get to Heaven. She hated it. She’ll do anything to stay on LaAmoria Isle. I’m sure of it.
God. I don’t know why you won’t just let it go. She’s not budging. You sent sickness. Slander. Libel. You chased her with people. With pick-ups. Even Sharks. You cost her job, tied up her funding. She took out a huge loan to get by. What else do you think you can throw at her? Besides, I cut her a deal. If she just finishes out this last project, Just hangs in til they make the big bust. She’ll get a peaceful life, nice little condo at the beach. Loving Man, who loves her. Young enough to keep up with her. Alike enough to get past the age gap. Same likes. Same Pasttimes. Lotta Love. The good life.
Devil. Well thats just it. I think she’ll do anything to protect him.
God. Don’t underestimate her again. I gave her that deep sense of righteousness and trust.
Devil. Yeah, I know. That;s how I always get the best of her.
God. Well you may get the best of her initially, but she comes back in scraping bottom, scratching at the door. She lasts long enough to call for Raphael and Michael. She even invoked Theresa and Jesus. What, Im not going to send them?
Devil. Yeah, but she’s started taking them for granted. She’s stopped talking to them regularly. She’s starting to worry about what others are saying. Especially since I sent that clip, “She talks to Angels.” Then that late night segment. As if its really about her. But I made sure she saw it. I think Raphael and Michael will let her hang out to dry this time. OR she’ll cave before they can move enough free will around to get her out of it.
God. You forget that stubborn streak I gave her.
Devil. Yeah, but you forget how much she loves the water, sun and Music at Sunset. And Sea Turtles. There’s;s nothing that she won’t do to stay.
God just smiles and let’s Satan have the last word. Otherwise He’d be stuck there all day. Besides, He already knows the outcome.
FLASH TO EARTH. Storm’s a-coming. You can’t handle the Storm rings in my ear.
A grimace my only action, for a grimace can look like a smile.
“I am the Storm” my soul echoes back every day for months.
How Long? Until Good finally triumphs over Evil.
SUMMARY. In every life, there comes a time when you must declare which team you play for. The Angels or the Devil Ray Diamonds. Good or Bad. Success or Recent Failure. Rich or Poor. The great equalizer in life. Somewhere over 40, You Gonna Get Tested. At least once. The Saints call it, The Dark Night of the Soul.
HER: Bar. Hurricane. Mom. Oahu. Bust. COVID.
HIM. Election Loss. Divorce. Attorney General. Governor Term 1. Success. Term 2. Cracks in the Dam. OOPS. Scandal close to home. Win Anyway. Most Votes in Primary and General Election in History, still less than first term. Girlfriend Gone (can’t tell who dumped who, can’t be easy after all that time, either way. COVID.
HER. Impeachment. (Can’t believe I’m home for this one after Mom made me sit there and watch it before I was even old enough to know what was going on. Otherwise, no allowance. If I did, an extra 50 cents a week.) Who’s this Chris Cuomo Guy? Impressive. Zoom. What’s going on? Who’s shorting the market? What’s up with CXYZ? Not like before Rip Van Cole. What’s up with COVID Testing? It’s been a month. Oliver, What’s up with this? How is there no progress in a month? What happened to everyone’s gonna get all the tests they want. We’re all sitting here. The best medical brains in the world too. Sitting. Waiting. We gotta do something. I’m gonna email my Doctor and Researcher Friends.
HIM. Hit like a ton of bricks. Where did all these sick people come from? No one’s come in sick from China. Feds are monitoring that. What do you mean there’s no national stockpile of PPE? The Federal Government has filled that role for years. I was a Cabinet Secretary. I Supported Federal Disasters. I understand these things. We got people dying here. We need ventilators. What do you mean we’re gonna need 200,000 beds? We’ve only got 50,000. What am I supposed to do with that? Where’s CDC? Where’s National Guidelines? You declared Federal Disaster. What are you doing? We need money. We need PPE. What do you mean, I gotta beg, of all people, the Patriots to bring us masks back from China? I’d rather die.