Vol 19. When You Get Caught: Christopher Cross, Sailing, and Finding the One

I have spent many late nights digging through piles of paper, but I have located a missing piece in the previous questions raised by Adolfo's last message to Halliday.  I needed to find this.  I felt terrible for leaving the Manifesto in a state of confusion.  Questioning Dolf and Holiday's commitment in word and action to the mission made me question my own mission here.  Thankfully, it appears that Adolfo has found his way back to central New Jersey from wherever he had gone, assisted in no small measure by one of their Soft Rock heroes.  Holiday, of course, happily welcomes him back and further expands on the gifts of Christopher Cross.  Enjoy! - ed.




Artifacts from Dolf's blue period

 Dear Kevin:

I am blessed (As you know, for that is what probably got me into this mess!!) but more blessed than I could have ever hope for.  Even though I have been through a rough time in my life, I realized today that I am truly happy.   Mr. Christopher Cross has always been a poet of truth, and he’s spoken nothing more truly than when he said, “Oh, the canvas can do miracles.”  Unemployed and living in the trailer, but slowly patching things up with wife and family.  I have even had several job interviews.  Yes, I wore a belt and a noose of brilliant paisley around my neck for a few short hours!  But today, dressed in my powder blue Sperry and matching boat shoes, I went sailing with my father!  Oh, how Christopher sings the truth.  “It’s not far back to sanity, at least it’s not for me/ and if the wind is right, we can sail away and find serenity.”

As we cut through the inlet, fear and exhilaration coursed through my veins.  Birds dived and fish gorged on fleeing baitfish.   The cycle of life played out before us.  If we had our fishing poles, we would surely have cast into the melee and supped that evening on nature’s bounty.  The seas and my ensemble were equally sporty, I tell you.  I was alive!!

Sporty wheels for an equally sporty chap.

But it was the return trip, entering my home port again.  Seeing that familiar lighthouse beckoning me home.  Tying ropes to dock, battening, fastening, securing.  I realized my place was home.

Embracing my dear father, admiring his denim leisure suit, I mounted my 1956 Mars Monza and headed for the Garden State Parkway.   I write you now from the garage, where I am tuning the Maybach boxer twin while my little Aubrey plays house at my feet.  I hope Gwen let’s me sleep inside tonight…

Holiday replies:

Welcome back, dear friend!  I thought we’d lost you!  Chris knows his stuff, I tell you: 

It's not far to never-never land

No reason to pretend

And if the wind is right

You can find the joy of innocence again.

The winds have seemed to change for you.  All is right!  No longer caught between the moon and New York City, I dare say!!  Picturing you there with your little girl, tinkering with your beloved machine (talk about “a dream and the wind” carrying one to freedom!) brought a smile to my face and, strangely, a lump to my button-fly Ocean Pacific corduroy shorts.  I care not to dwell upon that, however.  Suffice it to say that I am happy for you and your family.  I wish you a speedy return to domestic bliss. 

Knowing first-hand the trials of sleeping in the tool shed, the garage, the study, the studio, I know your aching back is a constant reminder that to stray is to pay.  But consider “Arthur’s Theme” (which Chris co-wrote with that feathered and hair-sprayed messiah, Mr. Bacharach):

Once in your life you'll find her
Someone that turns your heart around
And next thing you know
You're closing down the town
Wake up and it's still with you
Even though you left her way across town
Wondering to yourself
Hey what've I found?

You have to remember what if feels like to find true love, I know it’s crazy but it’s true.  But when you get caught between a newer, tighter, shinier moon and good old central New Jersey, the best that you can do is fall in love. Again.  With your wife, I mean. Do send good old Gwen and little Aubrey my love.