Friday, September 18, 2009

The Space Marauder

I'll tell you something about her.

The Space Marauder was born on the west coast, but she doesn't actually come from there. She comes from space. She is one of those beings who appears unexpectedly when you are on the sky train and everyone is zoning out because it's the morning rush hour and you look up and you see her standing with her back to you and you notice her, but you don't why you didn't see her before. Maybe you are at a call centre in a cubicle and you stretch your arms above your head, taking the opportunity to look around at all the other operators. There she is, with a headset on, talking to some hapless fool on the other end of the phone. You don't notice everyone else as much. There's something about her which draws your gaze. You think to yourself,
"Hey, who's that?"
Nobody answers of course, least of all the Space Marauder. She's talking on the phone and you don't know if she noticed you.
Later, while taking a smoking break with a colleague, the Space Marauder appears. She appears so casually, you wonder if you had your baseball cap pulled too low over your eyes and after adjusting it, she popped into view. And you say,
"Hello."
The Space Marauder replies,
"Hello."
You think to yourself,
"Oh, you're actually human. Amazing."

The Space Marauder comes in different shapes, sizes and sounds. Sometimes, she's 15 feet tall and walks along the street toward the grocery store to get some trail mix and some toilet paper. She ducks her head to avoid tree branches. You walk next to her and your head comes up to her knees. Residents slowly turn and stop conversations in mid-flow and gape. The Space Marauder smiles, nods to them and greets them with a friendly 'hello'. Her stride isn't too exaggerated but you have to take three steps to her one. After a block, you don't even notice the resident's stares. That's the effect of the Space Marauder. You feel calm and everything is the way it needs to be.

Other times, the Space Marauder is just a voice that comes down the telephone line, with a friendly
"Hi, this is what I am doing. I think you're great and oh by the way, how's THE PROJECT coming along?"
She is referring to a radio documentary that I have been trying to get off the ground for about two years now. Or should I say, that she has been trying to get off the ground for two years now. She continues with her message,
"So, you know I'm here in the capacity as a friend to light a proverbial fire under you're butt and help you get moving again."
I know. I grunt an excuse about not having the right equipment, not having time, money or incentive. She is very patient with that. 'That' being my ability to shirk responsibility for the project and keep it in the tickle-trunk of ideas and plans for the future.
Then there are the messages on my answering machine which keep me informed of the matters at hand, the movements of the universe, who has a cold and what the monkey has been up to. She has a gentle voice, one that lulls you. Her voice is not often raised and you might wonder what it would sound like, if it was. Expression of annoyance, stupidity, lateness of the hour, and general malcontent come in one audible form: a sigh.

The Space Marauder is a story-teller, a writer, a friend, a mother, a wife. A wife? Hmmm, have to think on that one. She is definitely the female half of a family unit with a male half and a daughter half. (Three halves I know.) Well, maybe she is the 'other half'. Her stories resonate with the rhythm section in your head, so that you begin to nod and move your torso back and forth in agreement as you read them. She tells children's stories, she tells adult stories, but most often she listens. Her attention to your ranting is comprehensive. Nothing shocks her. An ex of hers told me not long ago, that the 'stranger they were, the more she wanted to bring them home'. I remember those days and some of them were shockingly weird.

I once received a letter in the post. In the envelope next to the letter, was a piece of cardboard. On the cardboard, were the printed words 'Insert fingers here, for easy opening'. Referencing the many interpretations of this istruction, the Space Marauder had scrawled underneath,
"Who comes up with this stuff?"
I found the piece of cardboard the other day and put it on my fridge.

The Space Marauder has a knack of seeing things the way they are. Not judging differences, just noticing them. This is what makes her so easy-going and easy to be around. You could probably be introduced to her at a party wearing a suit, a baboon mask and a wooden leg. She might comment on your enormous lips, the comfort of your prosthetic or the choice of tie you are wearing. Chances are, she'll just say,
"Hello."

1 Comments:

At September 19, 2009 at 1:19 PM, Blogger spacemaurader said...

Oh, you - you mad balloon, you. I could barely read the end for all the wateriness of my eye balls. You, you shoe. You lovable cracked banana. Your foot rubs are really good but your heart rubs are even better, you great beautiful pickle, you! Come'er that I give you a crushing hug of laughs and sighs.

 

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