Kayaking with Phillip

Reading my novel, studying the writer’s mind as well as enjoying the story. 

A Gentleman in Moscow by  Amor Towles. 

He writes, “He is someone you should commit to memory, for years later he will have great bearing on the outcome of this tale.”

That was a footnote from the writer to the reader of the tale.

Writing in the omniscient voice of a narrator who knows what people are doing and thinking and knows their pasts and their futures before the reader but in this case, don’t forget Prince Petrov. Even though he casually appears here in this chapter, he will show up profoundly in the future and “have great bearing on the outcome of this tale.”  All this comment in a footnote on page 102. 

So now, we are on the edge of our seats.  Wondering what Prince Petrov is up to in the unknown future.  I read this footnote over and over to understand the content as well as the writer’s tool in a novel, to pause and talk directly to the ready and admit that this is, in fact, a tale.  I can imagine Granddaddy in the middle of his story, pausing to tell us something we needed to know, then back to the story. Often with writing or telling a story, we start in the third paragraph and the reader or listener is confused or interrupting trying to catch up.  When listening, I have learned to just listen and not interrupt the storyteller and it will work itself out and even if not, it is a pleasure still to be quiet and wait. Who have I committed to memory?  Who did I meet, or am I meeting today that figures in my tale now?

As I arrived in Davidson for the fire pit social distancing during the pandemic  (April, 2020) whisky sour visit, Phillip, my grandson college freshman, 18,  came to greet me with open arms but no hugging and Thomas his father as well as my son to help me unload the car of what I had brought, 6 steaks I received from Omaha Steaks and a blanket to wrap up in on this cold April night next to the firepit, 2 vases and some marbles left over from the whatchamacallits at Christmas. 

I lost that word temporarily like my earring last night in the bed (note: when you lose something, say it out loud, tell someone even if they are not here, and you will find it).

That was my footnote, parenthetical statement.

Whatchmacallits are narcissus bulbs that I used to force every year, my mom showed me and now Phillip’s mom, Stephanie,  the same.  They end up tall white fragrant and falling over. 

Anyway, I arrived with the steaks, the blanket, the vases, the marbles, and a basket with my knitting in it for Stephanie’s sister’s Christmas stocking going like gangbusters because of all of the Zoom video meetings and classes I am in these days.  Knitting in my lap, off camera, in a Zoom business meeting. 

Phillip walked up to me and said I have been thinking about our trip to California a lot lately.

He said, “I don’t know why, I think it’s because I can’t travel now during the pandemic and  I think about where  I have traveled and that was one of the best trips we took.

“Do you remember it?

“Do you remember the man, the stick man at the coffee shop selling sticks on the sidewalk, the homeless man that you bought a stick from, I think his name was Carl?”

“Yes,” I said.

And he said, “Do you remember the redwood trees and how tall they were?”

And I nodded enthusiastically all the while walking together down to sit next to the firepit.

I said, “I remember the drone that you took with us. It went all the way to the top of the redwoods, and we could see the forest that we couldn’t see from that perspective,  from the birds’ perspective on the ground.”

“Do you remember Peter Verbiscar-Brown?,” he said, “and hanging out at his house? His wife, Noni made a big production,  a Dutch baby pancake in her cast iron pan, so delicious.  

“Yes, I said, “and you went back for more and she was so happy.”

“Do you remember the kayak in the ocean and the caves we went in and out of?,” he said, showing me on his phone, the cave video.

“Yes, I do,” I said.

He said, “and the drone video I made of the seals sitting out on the rock and in the video they are looking up at the camera, wondering what the sound is, what is that thing over their head, so innocent and curious, just looking.”

“Yes,” I said, “and do you remember the story I have told over and over about your getting me to get in that kayak with you when I was uneasy and you asked me why as I am an adventurer and good swimmer and surely a good companion in a kayak.”

“I told you, I will hike in the park and you said no come in the kayak, what are you uneasy about and I said bending my knees that deeply to get in and get out, I can’t hyper bend my knees or squat to get out and up and you listened, really listened and said so your knees won’t hurt IN the kayak, right?  Right, just getting in and getting out.  Right, so it will hurt 2 times?  Right.  Okay, let’s go,  you can do it.”  

I met you as a little baby 19 years ago.  Your weeping filled-with-joy father came out to the hall where we were all waiting and said, it’s a boy and his name is Robert Phillip and we are going to call him Phillip.  I met you an hour later.  I didn’t know like meeting Prince Petrov how much you would figure in my tale.    I didn’t know California and I didn’t know New York with you.  I didn’t know Anderson Cove with you, catching and cooking and eating crawdads. I didn’t know Mervil’s pond with you.

After I am forever gone and you are a grandfather, you will have an amazing 19-year-old who will figure in your tale too.  Isn’t that amazing?  You have someone yet to meet and hold that you will love to the moon and back like I love you.