Dialogues of the Loon: On Love

By George Benda

This is a book about Love – the most enduring plot engine of literary history, from ancient times to modern. Some things have changed, others have not. Many other things appear to have changed, but really remain the same. What wisdom can be found that will enlighten our modern understanding of love? "Dialogues of the Loon" is the fifth book in the Jack Slack Shoebox Dialogues series that explores contemporary issues of finding, losing, and recovering love.

This book turns to characters and storylines to compel imagination and deeper thought on young love, finding love at an older age, love surviving the challenges of life crises, and finding love again after loss.

Each chapter is told from a unique point of view and offers a different perspective on love. From a more modern philosophical construct, the sum of the stories offers up a perspectival assessment of love that enables readers to engage both with the book and with their own friends in gaining wisdom about love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098374174

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© Copyright 2021, George Benda

Jack Slack Shoebox Dialogue® is a registered trademark of George Benda

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder.

Print ISBN: 978-1-09837-4-167

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09837-4-174

Readers comment on

the Jack Slack Shoebox Dialogue Series…

… fast-paced narrative…

"… readers can’t help but be drawn to the protagonist,

a well-sculpted character with traits that will pique the

interest of readers…"

… provides intelligent and provocative thought…

… Mr. Benda knows his subject inside and out…

… The whole book brought me back to the ‘70s…

"… a great novel with relevant historical references… a book with a lot for readers: pathos, craft, passion, and elements that will excite readers in a well-crafted novel

… the characters were so human, so relatable, I found myself utterly invested in each…

"For anyone who likes to go deeper delving into the realm of philosophy, politics, life, this book is a great platform to explore many questions…"

To Pat, the love of my life

Foreword &

Acknowledgements

Many dialogues on love have been written since the first and greatest, Plato’s Symposium. In the intervening two-thousand-plus years, it seems little progress has been made in understanding very much about love. Sure, we have some science now that explains the biochemistry of it all. And the consequences of the physical act of making love have changed with the advent of birth control pills. The flip side, death from sexually transmitted diseases was likely present in Plato’s day, and it’s believed to have been known to the Chinese and Egyptians, who traded with the Greeks. Still the underlying process and logic of love has remained opaque.

In writing this book, I thought deeply about what would be most helpful in stimulating reflection and argument about the nature and realization of love. Helpful to you. The result was a shift from the prior books in the Jack Slack Shoe Box Dialogues. Rather than a full-length novel with a few characters playing across a wide screen, I chose the format in which each chapter can be viewed as a short story, each with characters appropriate to the subject matter and relatively contained story lines. You may find that only one story applies to you right now, perhaps stimulating your own thinking and emotions about how love should be. Or you may find yourself somewhere in the mix. The main thing: argue with the characters, imagine the stories if you were making the decisions and playing out the consequences.

Also, unlike the other books in the series, this one is organized into parts. These might help guide you to the stories most relevant to you. To me they offer a larger structure in which to explore the meaning and implications of love. I think of the parts as stages of life, though the events could occur at any age. Time in this book, as in life, persists in its malleability.

As the first part lays out, love can be discovered when you are young, almost too young. Or it can occur in advancing years, perhaps even for the first time for those not lucky enough to fall in love early. Whatever the love story, adversity is certain to be present for every couple, as explored in the second part. Adversity need not bring an end to every love story. The third part paints a picture of years of drifting apart, a couple never quite able to overcome adversity, but unwilling to give up on the benefits of living together. Like adversity, death is an inevitable part of life and love. In the fourth part, two all-too-frequent stories in our modern times explore ways to cope with death and the tragedies encountered along the way. It is my hope that the fifth and final part enables you to see that the many forms of love, even sexual love, do not disappear with age. Perhaps my hope can translate into your hopefulness.

As with each book I have written, this one arrives in your hands only with the help of many wonderful people. Not surprisingly, this book has had the support of several women who are near and dear to me. My wife, Pat, has patiently read each story and the manuscript – more than once. Pam Jewson, my most reliable, diehard reader, has been through all the stages and all of the edits. Both women have added insights that make the stories more credible and meaningful, and, I hope, a little less male-centric. Another dear friend, Rebecca Ahina, has aided in checking the verisimilitude of female roles, especially the youngsters in the stories. She is in much better touch with kids than I. Last but not least in impact and helpfulness, my mentor and friend, Christian Lybrook, who has helped me unravel story challenges and keep my eye on the ball. To all of these folks, a giant mahalo.

George Benda

Molokai, Hawaii

It is with great sadness that I let all of George Benda’s readers know that Dialogues of the Loon will be the last of the Jack Slack Shoebox Dialogues. George planned the series for 10 books. However, George passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on October 19, 2020, one week after his 67th birthday. I found the completed manuscript for this book on his computer and as I know that he would have wanted, have had this final book printed.

Patricia Benda

George’s wife of 45 years.

Table of Contents

Part I: Discovery

Chapter 1: Directions

Chapter 2: Winter Plumage

Part II: Adversity

Chapter 3: The Cry of the Loon

Chapter 4: Unfolding

Part III: Divergence

Chapter 5: Dead Man’s Rock

Part IV: Loss

Chapter 6: Slip and Fall

Chapter 7: The Looney Bin

Part V: Recovery

Chapter 8: All These Many Years

Chapter 9: Lucky Loonie

Part I:

Discovery

Chapter One:

Directions

Maya gently stroked Sister as she lay curled up, spooning her. Her shoulder, her belly. Sister stretched and moaned her happiness, rolling onto her back. She turned her head up and licked Maya on the cheek.

Anna stood at the door to the bedroom, watching the scene unfold. She walked to the bedside table, picked up her tablet computer, and opened the camera program. She snapped a shot and immediately emailed it to Tamara. As she looked at the photo again, zooming in for detail and making it larger than life on the screen, she noticed tears rolling down Maya’s cheek.

Anna sat on the bed next to Maya. She brushed back the young girl’s hair. A teenager now, Maya had a touch of acne on her forehead. Maya pushed Anna’s hand away and pulled her bangs forward. Anna smiled, gently whispering, Hey, sweet girl.

Sister stood, stretched, and jumped off the bed. She curled up on the dog bed at the foot of Jack and Anna’s king-sized platform. Maya sat up. Crying started, full force. She burrowed her head into Anna’s shoulder. I miss my mom, she sobbed.

You were just on the phone with her, yeah? Is there a problem?

Maya pulled away from Anna. She sniffled. Anna reached for a box of tissues from Jack’s side of the bed. Maya blew her nose, but the sobbing barely diminished. Anna, with little experience in mothering, was at a loss. She stroked Maya’s head and drew her into another embrace. Maya hugged her back. It hurts, so much, Maya said into Anna’s shoulder.

Maya normally attended a private school in Kailua, on Oahu. Just as school ended that year, June of 2024, a new strain of the coronavirus started spreading like wildfire. It landed on Oahu like an atom bomb. This one, labeled Covid-24, appeared to target older children and teenagers. The death rate was a staggering seventy percent. There were no cases on Molokai. Tamara had immediately bundled Maya off to stay with Jack and Anna to keep her safe. They beat the interisland travel ban by a day. All of the budding teenager’s summer plans with her close friend were in the wind.

Hey, Maya, I’ll teach you to drive this summer, so you’ll be ready for your learner’s permit next year, Anna offered. What kid, she thought to herself, doesn’t want to drive?

Maya burst into tears again, coughing and choking until she could spit out, We were going to do that together.

Which we? I’m confused? Your mother?

Na-na- no, Maya stuttered through her sobs. My new friend. Mom said she’d help the two of us learn together.

Anna started to piece together conversations and comments from Tamara. Maya had a tough year at school. It would be good for her to be away from her peer group. They were picking on her for her boyish haircut. The clothes… Maya preferred her father’s button-down shirts, open at the collar, with a narrow tie. Boys’ clothes, her friends taunted. Friends. What does that mean at fifteen? And Maya so tiny. She looked like she might be in the sixth grade, not starting her sophomore year in high school.

Anna stood holding Maya and looked at their image in the mirror. Still a foot shorter than Anna, Maya wore baggy clothes. No evidence yet of hips or narrow waist to define her femininity. Shapely legs muscled from surfing. Shapely was the wrong word. An athlete’s legs. Short hair chopped not styled. As Maya turned her head against Anna’s shoulder, Anna could see the strong jaw, the brown eyes, sockets red from crying.

Maya sat in the cockpit of the VW electric bus, clearly overwhelmed by the control panel. To her right, between her and Anna, was a screen that looked like her old iPad on steroids. Her mom’s car had a steering wheel, this had an oblong thingy with icons and arrows. Anna walked her through the controls and showed her the ignition button, so to speak. As the vehicle powered up, the monitor flooded with images from the multiple cameras, giving the feel of driving through a video game. Maya grinned.

Out the farm gate and onto Awawa Road, right turn. Easy. Down the hill. Left turn – don’t forget to signal. Still easy, just concentrate on driving and ignore the panoramic view of ocean and beach. Kaluakoi Road, rough, bouncy, a little work to stay the course. Not too hard.

Anna looked at the lines wrinkling Maya’s face in concentration and smiled. Relax, she advised. Tell me about your friend who was going to learn to drive with you.

Maya turned red and gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white. There was a sharp intake of breath. She glanced at Anna. Maya let out the breath and calmed. Anna gave a gentle smile of encouragement and said, Eyes on the road. Passengers are always there to distract you. But I thought it might help you relax if you told me about this friend and what makes her so special.

Maya sighed a little. She is special. She’s so pretty. And smart. You and Jack would like her. She likes books more than me. And she likes that I like to golf and surf and stuff. We’ve been tutoring each other. She helps me with math – she’s so much better at it than Tamara. I help her with golf. Howard teaches us surfing together. I really like that. And she looks really good in a bikini.

Anna, who was watching the road while Maya talked, just in case, smiled and chuckled a little. She let out a little gasp as Maya hit a pothole. The VW Bus shook from the impact but kept to a straight line. Maya let off the accelerator and looked over at Anna, eyebrows raised. Anna nodded back at her and waved her forward with a two-finger push. Maya stepped on the gas, so to speak, and they were back up to thirty-five.

When I was a girl, Anna began, I had a very close girlfriend.

Anna’s mind visualized her younger days as she related the story to Maya. The door to her fifth-grade classroom, an oak door with a pebbled glass upper panel, squeaked on its old brass hinges as it opened. Well into the school year, the winter light glinted flat across the wall, textured from the reflection and refraction of the pebbled glass. The shiny off-green paint, old and chipped, created an ethereal backdrop as a perfect face surrounded by a halo of blond hair, atop a frilly frock, floated into the room. Fifth grade, my god. So young. So beautiful.

Anna smiled at Maya and dove a little deeper to make her feelings clear. Anna recounted glimpses of her own sophomore year in high school. A Tale of Two Cities sat between them. Victoria explained the structure of the book to Anna. Anna smiled and closed the book. Victoria brought out the advanced algebra book, shaking her head. Anna pulled out the class notes and wrote the formula for the story problem while Victoria stared off into space. It was spring now. Anna followed Victoria’s eyes and saw the little lake out her window, the lake where the two of them had learned to swim as little girls. Her mind travelled back to the two of them in their ten-year-old bodies, looking each other over as they stood in line waiting for the instructor.

Maya smiled. She shook her head. I think this might be different, she said.

I was slow to develop, Maya. I didn’t have my first period until I was almost fifteen.

Anna pointed and Maya pulled into the parking area for Papohaku Beach Park. They drove down to the circle at the end of the pavement