someday and it won't be long.

[mysteryscribe]

Edgar was dressed in a pair of cut off jeans and a butchered sweat shirt on Monday afternoon. It was about three PM when the knock on the door startled him. Me might have looked out just to make sure that it wasn't a home invasion, if he had given it any thought. You see in the two years Edgar had lived in the Condo, not a single person had visited him unexpectedly. He therefore assumed that it was a delivery man with some forgotten package.

To his utter amazement it was Tammy Smith, minus her gaggle of children, who stood on his stoop. "Tammy?" he asked through the closed storm door.

"The Kid are at 'Mother's afternoon out. I thought I would stop by to find you before the middle of the night on Saturday."

"Well you found me, come on in." Edgar said stepping back. "Forgive this mess, I never have company."

Tammy looked around before she answered. "Edgar, you need to hire a cleaning lady. Maybe one of those maid services."

"I guess I should, but about once a month I break down and clean."
She turned up her nose at that thought. She looked as though she wanted to run away before the clutter attacked her. Her face was a scene right out of some fifties horror move. "Calm down Tammy, it's just clutter. Trust me, I'm not harboring ebola virus in here."

"Mr. Taft, if I had more time, I would help clean this place right now. I'd put you to work as well. This is disgusting."

"Well, when you come back on Saturday morning, remind me not to invite you in for coffee and donuts." Edgar's voice took on a sarcastic tone.
"And they said you weren't a thoughtful man," her sarcasm matched his. It seemed the Yuppie Soccer Mom could hold her own.

"Who said that?"

"No one, they actually said a lot worse." She broke into a smile. "Okay, you're a slob. Thank god its only for two days. I can live with it. I had a college room mate almost this bad once."

"Did they ever find the body?" Edgar was smiling as he said it. Somehow in the few words they exchanged that afternoon their relationship was defined.

"I think it might have been spring before she emerged from under her own clutter." Tammy stopped to think a minute. It broke the mood as well as gave her time to find the right words. "Edgar, I really wanted to ask if we could leave on Friday? If we leave that early on Saturday, we are not going to have time to sleep at all. We will both be a wreck before we even get started. I will be happy to pay for my own motel room that night. I would rather do that than drive."

"I should take your money, but I won't. I didn't suggest leaving on Friday because you have kids."

"Michael, my former husband, can pick them up from our sitter's house on his way home from work. It just means subjecting them to another evening with him, and the slut de jour, but it won't scar them for life. Don't worry, I checked with my therapist before I suggested it."

Edgar wasn't sure if she was serious about the therapist, but he wouldn't have been surprised. "I wasn't at all worried. You have the responsibility for your own life. I can't and won't try to interfere." It was an easy promise to make, since Edgar didn't know or care about her life. "As for leaving on Friday, what time?"

"It's a three hour drive, and I read the on-line brochure about the festival. If we get there by four, we can get our space assignments Friday. We will know where to go first thing Saturday morning. Since we won't have to stand in line to get our assignment, setting up that early shouldn't be too hard."

"Okay, can you be here around noon? If you do that, we can eat a late lunch somewhere on the road."

"Since you insist on me driving your teeny tiny convertible, maybe and extra hour is called for. How about I get here about 11am?"

"That's just fine, would you like a cup of coffee? I think I have a clean cup somewhere."

"No thanks, I hate to tell you Mr. Taft, but I wouldn't eat or drink anything in this house. It should be declared a super site by the EPA. I'm going shopping for a hazmat suit as a matter of fact."

"You wouldn't like one of those. They don't come in pink." Edgar hoped it didn't hurt her feelings.

"Oh I bet you like pink sometimes." She said it as she turned for the front door. He was surprised by how fast she could leave a room. No good-byes no wind down of conversation, she was just gone.

 

[mysteryscribe]

I really should feel badly. This has become a soap opera without a sponsor.

 

[mysteryscribe]

For some reason Edgar felt depressed, even more than usual, after his visit from the Yuppie Soccer Mom. He had lost the ability to think of her as anything else. Imagine the YSM challenging a decision he had made for her. Of course, he was glad that she had. Packing the car in the sunlight was far more to his liking, than packing it in the dead of night. Oh he would have been packed during the daylight hours on Friday either way, but most likely he would have to rearrange the car to accommodate her two 'small' cases.

As usually happened Edgar lost interest in painting, even though he continued to shoot pictures. One new one everyday, even though about two weeks would pass before anything found its way onto his drafting table, and maybe one week before a print even made it into the 'do it later' cabinet. His concentration was gone, it wasn't the degenerative brain thing, it was the festival. He had always produced crap before a show, but never so much crap. Then he had really never put himself on a shooting schedule before either.

Friday morning came, Edgar had gone to the other donut shop before dark the night before. He had a nice assortment of donuts on the table when the YSM arrived. She ate about half of one donut.

"Donuts are pure sugar. They play absolute hell with the figure and the complexion." Tammy said it as if lecturing one of her children.

"You mean to tell me that you don't do anything just because you enjoy it Tammy?" He continued. "Do it without considering the consequences, just because it sounds good at the time?" He said it because donuts were such a minor issue. Yet she had made a big deal about her explanation, even when one wasn't required.

"I usually give things at least a little thought. It isn't just me you know. I don't want my kids bouncing through life like balls in an arcade game." She could defend her position, he had to give her that. She had either given it a lot of thought, or read way too many self help books for young mothers.
Still Edgar had to admit she did have a well controlled figure. Something about her frame told him that she could have gone either way. He would have enjoyed seeing about twenty extra pounds on her. Still keeping a nice figure but losing the starving model look. Still it was none of his business. A YSM would do what a YSM had to do, he supposed.

The space behind the seats of the little yellow convertible he reserved for clothes. His one soft bag took up only the space behind the passenger's seat. He had left the same amount of space behind the driver's seat for her case. The trunk was over half filled with cardboard tubes, foam core boards and broken down easels of different heights. Edgar had done festivals before.

When the YSM opened her trunk, edgar found a small cloth case. It wasn't over filled, but it wasn't soft either. He guessed that she had packed exactly the amount that the instructions advised. He had already formed a new opinion of Tammy Smith. Tammy was the ultimate conformist.

As Edgar lifted the firm but not bulging bag from the trunk he said out loud, "Long weekend ahead."

"Yes, I am so looking forward to it." Tammy answered. She had obviously missed the sarcasm in his voice. Or maybe there was none, since she was doing him a favor.

The work case was what might have been a book salesman's sample case. As a matter of fact it most likely like was a jewelry salesman's case. She could have ordered one from someplace on line. In the case of a YSM it was the most likely scenario.

It was well before noon when the little yellow convertible labored out of the parking lot. Now lest you think Edgar just took off in a car he bought a week before, let me assure you the car had been checked and tuned by a mechanic who owed Edgar a favor. The car got about twenty dollars worth of wholesale parts, and Edgar got peace of mind, all for a hundred bucks.

The underpowered car strained only when it left the stop sign from his parking lot. The small condo complex was built in what must have been a sink hole at one time. The driveway was impassable on icy days. Since it was the first of June, that wasn't a possibility unless hell really did freeze over from time to time.

Edgar noticed that Tammy was very tense. "You okay, you seem nervous."
"It feels funny to be in a car without a roof. These are supposed to be very dangerous in an accident."

"They are. It is my understanding that you are twice as likely to die in a sever crash." Edgar had no idea what the number was, if there really was a higher risk at all. "But your odds of having that crash are much higher if you drive in fear. Over compensation," he suggested.

"So are you telling me to just drive normally?"

"I think that would be best. I would also try to relax. Personally I would prefer to die in an auto crash than to live as a tomato." He noted her curious look. "In a crash sever enough to kill you in a convertible, you would most likely be in a coma if you had been in your car."

"Oh I see your point. If I had the choice, would I rather die outright or be cared for the rest of my life with no conscious thought?"

"It wasn't exactly what I meant but yeah that's it."

"In that case," she said that as she raised the speed of the tiny yellow car to match the traffic around them. It didn't take long for the magic of rag top to infect her. It took about three younger men in rusty pickups looking down and grinning at her. They no doubt thought it a shame that she was with her father. That really was a lust inhibitor Edgar suspected.
"I believe those boys were staring at me."

"Well I am pretty damn sure they weren't looking at me with longing in their eyes, at least I hope not." Edgar said it enjoying the YSM's smile. It had obviously been a while since she had been the object of anyone's lust. Let alone a couple of redneck teenagers in a rusty old pick up.

 

[mysteryscribe]

The totally mismatched couple had been on the road for what seemed like hours. Edgar checked his watch as the convertible cruised past the state capitol building. The two of them had been on the road for well over an hour. They weren't making very good time.

In spite of her best intentions, Tammy Smith drove like an old lady. Edgar could have made the drive faster, but he really would have been a menace in the heavy traffic around the state capitol. As it was, it took both of them to spot the exit in time to prevent a major accident.

After leaving Capitol City they switched to the smaller two lane roads which would take them to the almost coastal festival. They could have stayed on the Interstate but Edgar sensed that Tammy was terrified every time an eighteen wheeler passed.

"Tell you what, how about we look for a place to have lunch?" Edgar suggested. Even if she had a 'real' breakfast it had to be wearing thin. If not hers, his sure as hell was.

"Sure but there probably won't be much in these small towns. Unless we just go looking for something." Tammy didn't seem all that enthusiastic about lunch in a small town for some reason.

"Oh hell Mrs. Smith there will be plenty of places between here and the festival. But personally I vote for the very next one that sells food, no matter what it is." Edgar was smiling but also firm.

"Alright, we will just toss caution to the wind," Tammy agreed. Well she agreed until the next place came into view. The building was no larger than a fair sized storage shed. Certainly smaller than a garage.

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh yes, you agreed."

"But they probably don't have anything but greasy food."

"Yeah," Edgar said it with a devilish grin. "You go to save us that table under the tree over there, and I'll get the food."

"Aren't you going to ask what I want to eat." She said it to his back. Edgar had already gone.

"Howdy," he said to the chubby teenager behind the counter. There was an equally chubby black man standing over a grill. "You got a menu?"

The girl was obviously bored as she pointed to the hand made sign over the grill. The side of the road grill severed both hamburger and hot dogs. That was bad news for Tammy. The good new for Edgar was they had a million variations on the theme. He took a look at the YSM sitting on a bench under a tree looking very nervous, then he ordered two large burgers Carolina style and two trays of onion rings.

"Don't you want a coke with that?" the chubby girl asked.

"You got RC?" Edgar asked with a grin. Might as well go all the way, he thought.

"Sure," the teenie bopper replied looking insulted.

"Give me three of them."

When Edgar got to the picnic table Tammy's eyes were dancing. She was not at all comfortable. "Easy there partner, don't blow anything till we get home. I don't need you going postal on me."

It took her a few long seconds to get it. "No I'm fine. This is just a lot of new things to absorb all at once."

Edgar nodded placing the food onto the table. You ain't seen nothing yet, he thought. "I didn't know how you take your burger, but I thought you should try one of these."

When she opened the wrapper, she looked as though she might be sick. She didn't say anything just pushed it away. She did the same with the onion rings. "Didn't they have diet?" she asked surveying the RC Colas.

"Tammy listen to me. You may never have a chance like this again. Try everything, you can hate it, after you try it, not before. You and I are totally different, but remember why you wanted to make this trip. You wanted to find out about you." It wasn't exactly what she had said at their first meeting, but it was what she had meant.

To her credit she nodded shyly, then took the RC from his hand. She took a sip made a face, then placed it down in front of her. She tried one of the onion rings, Then tasted the burger. Taft was forced to go back to the counter for more napkins. He made a mess, but he had at least clue how to eat a sloppy chili burger. Tammy just wore most of it.

They were back on the road when she said, "I'm miserable. I may never eat again. Damn it Taft you are trying to poison me."

"Ah hell loosen up some Tammy. You might even smile back at the teenagers."

 

[mysteryscribe]

The drive from the roadside diner to the next place where Tammy asked for directions was made in silence. Tammy was not happy. She felt that Edgar had not even considered her feelings, when he made the lunch arrangements. Tammy was not used to being considered less than a full partner. She didn't much like the idea of being anything less.

She kept telling herself that it was only two days and then it would all be over. She could do anything for two days. After all it wasn't marriage, she could just ignore him for two days.

Ignoring Edgar was difficult. Edgar was Edgar Taft. He was the closest thing to a real artist she was ever likely to meet. Oh she had met a couple of art school kids with a lot of promise, but frankly they were all so normal. I mean an artist should be different, shouldn't he? She had that thought, while she was working out Edgar's forgiveness.

"Which way?" she asked as she reached the stop sign in the tiny town. She would not have asked, if she could read a map herself. To her the lines could have been a piece of modern art. They made no sense at all, but they had a kind of beauty to them.

"Turn right but pull over first chance you get."

"You mean stop in the middle of the block."

"Yes, but find a parking space. We might be a few minutes." Taft saw the look she gave him, but didn't care. It was only two days, then she would be back in her Yuppie life. She would just have to tough it out.

She parked the little yellow convertible behind a rusted pick up truck filled with bags from the farmers exchange. What was inside those bags, Tammy had not a single clue.

Edgar rummaged though the space behind his seat until he had free access to leather box of some sort, and a small soft backpack. The pack was the kind kids carry their school books inside. From the leather box, he removed what had to be the worlds ugliest camera. She recognized it as a camera only because she had seen old movies on cable TV. It looked a lot like the cameras the newsmen of the thirties and forties pointed at Clark Gable. It lacked the huge flash on the side. but still it most likely was one of the same camera or a sibling.

Edgar put a small square thing into the camera before walking across the street. She also noticed what looked like a pair of worn red socks that he carried in his hand as well. After he had crossed the street, he motioned for her to join him. He did so only after having turned and found her still sitting in the open car. He walked her deep into the small park. What he was looking for she had no idea.

The park was no more than a couple of adjoining vacant lots that had been covered with sod. The small town managed to find the money, probably from the state, to put in a fountain and a few benches. It was urban renewal in small town American. What they hadn't been able to do, was to convince the owner of the building beside the park to paint over his worn cigarette advertizing sign. The sign had been painted onto the bricks of the building many years before. It sat above a rear door. The door had obviously once been a popular entrance to the small, downtown market. The door was boarded with weathered and decomposing plywood, and the sign faded and peeling.

Edgar had no way to know that the sign and door were there, but he had felt something call him while Tammy was stopped at the stop sign. Edgar didn't need the beanbag sock, since the doorway sat in the open sun. An old time film holder has two sides and each side holds one sheet of film. Edgar made one careful exposure of the door and sign. The turned the holder over.

"Go stand by that door," he demanded of Tammy.

"Why?"

"Because I want to give the picture some scale and you are the only thing I have." She did it without even combing her hair or fixing her make up. She knew it would only upset Edgar if she wasted the time. Besides she was just there for the scale. It certainly wasn't as if Edgar wanted her there because she was who she was. Even to her that thought made no sense.

Edgar fiddled with his camera then without any warning he lifted it quickly and fired the shutter. Without a word he turned for the car. All that trouble for one quick shot. It made no sense to her at al, but then she made jewelry not photographs.

Still she did own a Nikon digital SLR, she had even brought it along. It was packed away in her suitcase. Maybe I should take it out of the bag, she thought.

 

[mysteryscribe]

I slipped out of the cave and posted something somewhere else. I wonder how long it will take before I am told that I must be getting senile.... LOL truth is I am

 

[mysteryscribe]

Finding the river walk festival area was easy. The small river town had originally been built alongside the river. It was just a matter of looking for the whored up historical district. Most historic districts aren't whored up at all, but for some reason that one was. It could have been that way at the towns beginnings, but Taft had his doubts.

Tammy drove the convertible over the cobble stone 'Old Main' street to the River Walk Park. The part was a lot more classy than the historic downtown. It had to do with the governor's river front redevelopment committee. All the old towns in the state got money to build parks along the river, but only if they used the state's plans. Each one was allowed a small variance but not much.

At the entrance to the River Walk Park, Tammy drove by a table with a patio umbrella over it. She tried to stop to talk to the older woman but the woman would have none of it.

"Park you car right over there and came back so we can talk." The older woman said it turning away.

Tammy started to object but Taft touched her arm. She realized that he meant for her to do as the woman said. Tammy waited until she was out of earshot of the old woman, then asked, "What the hell was that all about. She could have told us what we wanted to know there was no one behind us."

"Mrs. Smith, the woman has not assigned us a space yet. I would prefer not to be on the very end of the line. People and their children tend to get tired somewhere before the end of the line of tables. I don't want you to upset her enough that she moves me to the end of the line. If you still want to call her a *****, do it after the show ends."

"I don't use language like that," Tammy almost shouted.

"Then whatever a proper bred lady calls another older proper bred lady." With that Edgar led Tammy to the table with the blue and white patio umbrella. The umbrella cast a nice bit of shade, but only on the old lady.
"Hi, I'm Edgar Taft. Could you point out my spot for tomorrow." Edgar had noticed the table and chairs already in position even though each was covered with a blue tarp. He supposed that the city employees had no desire to set them up at four AM.

"Taft, oh yes you are the poster man."

"That and a few other things, but yes that's me."

"And what are the other things?"

"I make a snapshot now and then of a festival patron. I don't take money for it, so I'm not shooting for profit here."

"Alright, I don't see the harm in that."

"And I have jewelry to show," Tammy piped in. Edgar wondered what the bounty was on YSMs that week.

"I don't see any mention of a shared booth."

"This is Tammy my wife," Edgar was thinking as fast as he could. "I didn't think it could harm anything, if she used a corner of my table."

"You should have mentioned it."

"It was a last minute decision for her to come along. Please I really don't want to have a problem."

"Well I have you in the fine arts section, I will have to move you to the artisan section. Jewelry just will not fit in that category."

"You should see my jewelry before you make that decision." Edgar was afraid Tammy would get all filled up with righteous indignation, so he cut her off.
"It's alright Tammy, we will be fine in the craft section." It wasn't all right at all, but Edgar was determined not to make a scene. Tammy hadn't known any better.

"Mrs Taft how large is your display?" Edgar and Tammy had no idea why she asked it.

"It will be a simple jewelry sample case open with thing hanging from it. It takes up hardly any space at all."

"Mr. Taft, I am going to allow you and your wife to remain in the Fine Arts section. Just try not to make to big an issue of selling the jewelry."
"We won't even have a sign up. Just have it out in case anyone stops bye to look."

"Very well then."

Tammy and Edgar walked to the table behind the chalk number 21 written by hand on the pavement. "This should do just fine," Edgar suggested.
"How did a poster shooter get into the fine arts group?"

The posters are hand painted, a lot of artist did the same thing. They would have prints made of their drawings, then hand colored them in. It's an old tradition even before photography was advanced enough to make prints big enough to sell as posters. Easy way to produce multiple copies of the same print. The fact that mine are all original, one of a kind, helps some too. Make the print, sell the print, cut the negative that's my business plan.

 

[mysteryscribe]

"So what do you usually do at night?" Tammy asked it while sitting on the porch of the small fishing cabin Edgar had rented for them.

The cabin had come about after the motel owner took pity on them. The motel had been booked solid for weeks. It was rent the fishing cabin that slept ten, or drive fifty miles to the next motel. The drive to the motel wasn't the problem it was the drive back at 4 AM. That drive would have defeated the purpose of leaving a day early.

"I usually paint on pictures, but I don't have one here to paint. I also don't have my paints."

"So you want to have sex?" Tammy asked it and Edgar was instantly shocked and confused. "It was a joke Edgar. My god you're older than my father."

"Well I am certainly glad you don't have sex with your father." He replied.

"Hey, I never said that now." She burst into laughter again. I wish you could see your face. I didn't think it was possible for a yuppie mom to cause such a reaction.

"I just never expected such things to come from you of all people."

"I know, but I'm not home. I don't have the kids to think about, and it is a beautiful night. It's probably a good thing that you are old."

"Probably is at that. So what are you going to do with your new found art education?"

"I'm going to teach I think. I really love kids, and I'm not ever going to be a great artist."

"Well, you aren't if you think that way for sure. You know I have met a couple of guys who have big gallery followings. Most of them say they aren't great artist, but they are great actors. Most claim to be faking it."
"Are you faking it?"

"No but then I'm not all that popular either. Just sell a few poster pictures. Nothing important, like the others."

"Edgar you are probably the most laid back man I ever met. Nothing at all seems to bother you."

"Lots of things bother me, but I have no control over them. If I have no control, there is nothing I can do. If there is nothing I can do to right the wrongs, I just try to wall them off."

The sun had finally set, when a car drove into the gravel space beside the tiny convertible. "Hi there," The voice belonged to a man. In the car sat a woman who looked to be closer to Taft's age than the man speaking. "Guy who owns the motel said you might let us crash here tonight."
"Are you with the festival?"

"Yeah Arts by Art." He handed Edgar a card. "You won't even know we are here, I promise." The car looked as though it belonged to a gypsy. Lots of dirt and scratches covered the rust and dents. Edgar didn't know what to do. The cabin would sleep ten alright but there were only two bedrooms.
"It's up to the little lady," Edgar said. Then he whispered into Tammy's ear. If we let them stay we are going to have to share a room. You are safe I promise, but I wouldn't trust some else to keep you safe. You decide.

"What the hell, we are all in this together," Tammy said it and meant it. She helped the older lady from the car, then into the cabin.

Surprisingly enough it was a quiet night. Everybody seemed to be deep in thought about the festival so everyone just keep to themselves. Leaving the next morning at 6 AM wasn't a problem. Edgar and Tammy made sure the two new arrivals were up and moving about, then they went in search of breakfast.

To Tammy's dismay, she didn't bat an eye when Edgar found a Hardee's restaurant. He assured her that Hardee's had the best biscuits in the entire state. She admitted to her friends back home that he had been right. She never admitted it to Edgar.

Tammy was in awe of the prints Edgar removed from the cardboard cylinders. Edgar called them posters but Tammy doubted anyone else would. they were paintings on paper. That is how they looked to her anyway.

"You only have four posters?" she was surprised.

"Yes the point of this show is to have people see the samples then look on the web at the catalog. All my current prints are on the web and available through different galleries around the country. The shipping is minimal so this works pretty well."

"What about those two portraits?"

"Oh I might get a retro portrait commission or two here. You never know." Odds were not good with Tammy along. She hadn't asked to see his portrait samples and he didn't particularly want to show them to her.

 

[mysteryscribe]

Tammy was at first surprised by the number of people who commented on her jewelry. She was excited to find that some people even paid to own it. She was feeling very good about herself when she looked up to see Taft looking slightly bewildered.

"Are you okay?" She realized that she had been so involved in her own little world that she hadn't noticed Edgar for over an hour. He might have been staring off into the river for all that time. He certainly wasn't looking at the people who stopped by to see his posters. Tammy suddenly realized that the people didn't even exist for Edgar. Edgar wasn't there any more.

"Edgar," she shook him as well as call his name. He jerked back to reality.
At least he appeared to be in touch again. "Are you alright?"

"Sure," he said it but he didn't sound alright at all. He sounded a bit disoriented. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

"No there is no one to call." While the two of them whispered, people came looked at the posters read the information. Some took his card with the web address, others just walked away.

"Is that why you needed someone to drive for you?" Edgar nodded. "Is it alzheimers?" He shook his head. Tammy gave him a questioning look.

"I have a slow growing brain tumor. If my bum ticker doesn't get me first, I'm gonna lose it all one day. Just slip a gear and never come back. Driving more than a few miles is just too dangerous. That's why I needed a driver."

"But today isn't the day is it." He turned looked blank to her question. "The day you drift off?"

"No today isn't the day. It most likely will be progressive, not an all at once thing. You know longer and longer times away."

"Damn Edgar I am sorry."

"Not your fault. Just a simple birth defect." He spoke to a few people. It was no more than a "Hi, take a card." kind of thing.

Without knowing Tammy made the decision to just go along for the rest of the weekend. To stop resisting his life style. She would just go back to who she was on Monday. At about the same moment a song came from one of the patron's portable radio. It was a country music station and the song was something like... I don't have to be me till Monday. Tammy grinned which was totally out of place at that moment.

The rest of that day she talked constantly to Edgar. She hoped that it would keep him in the ball game so to speak. She questioned him about his life, about his work even about his strained relationship with his daughter. At six, when they closed up the display, Tammy found that she was becoming immersed in the old man's life. The more he told her, the more she wanted to know.

On the way back to the fish camp Taft spotted a pizza restaurant. It wasn't a chain restaurant, but one of those little mom and pop kind of places. Tammy thought it might be a hang out for bikers, since there were four large motorcycles parked outside the door.

Once inside she found that it was indeed a biker restaurant and pub. The bikers turned out to be a club of retired cops, who just happen to like motorcycles. The tri-county area was a fast growing retirement center. There was a ton of gray money around, the pizza place just managed to land some of it.

Tammy was surprised by the number of men Taft's age sitting with women of her age. She wanted to ask someone what it meant. She thought that until one of the blonde bimbos kissed her ancient looking biker. It wasn't a peck on the cheek either. Tammy's face reddened as she wondered what the other women must think of her.

When the pizza arrived, she asked, "How about a bottle of wine?"

"Sure," Edgar replied Since Tammy knew wine better than edgar she chose the type and even a brand.

The gypsy car was already in the parking lot when Tammy pulled into the fish camp parking lot.

 

[mysteryscribe]

Tammy opened the pizza box while Edgar opened the wine bottle. The restaurant had provided two plastic cups, but Edgar crushed one before he got them home.

"Oh hell Edgar it's okay we can share." Edgar filled the one cup. They passed it back and forth while munching the pizza.

"You know, when I first started in photography I had a girl friend. I was so poor that when we dated, she would bring pizza and wine to my house. Otherwise it would have been beans and bread." He paused to look into the night. He had drifted away, but it was a different place that he went on that occasion.

"I never dated a poor man. I wonder if it would have been different?"

"Well, I've been poor and not so poor. I like not so poor better." Edgar took a small sip then handed her the glass. Tammy emptied it, then refilled it.

"Edgar tell me, where do you go when you drift off?" Tammy would never have asked that if she hadn't had the wine.

"Oh I'm still here, just in a different time. It's like reliving a very intense recent memory. But god it makes me tired when it is over."

"Do you need to rest Edgar?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Edgar walked into the cabin and fell sound asleep.

Tammy Smith took a shower in a moldy steel shower stall. She even managed a chuckle at her own expense.

When she returned to the room, she looked at the bed where she had slept the night before. I had been as far from Edgar as possible. That night she brazenly walked to Edgars bed and slipped in. It wasn't anywhere near the hussy level, because Edgar was out like a dead man. She had to listen carefully to hear his shallow breathing.

Tammy lay beside him under the dirty sheet and wondered about the man. How much could she learn from him. How much could Edgar Taft teach her before he died or got lost in a memory from which he couldn't break away.


the end....

 

[mysteryscribe]

The Taft story is finished and I fear it is time for this thread to be finished. So again.... the end lol

 

[Luke]

I hate to say this and I know it's going to Upset someone. The truth is digital was invented for the guy who wants to know nothing about photography. Of course so was the point and shoot camera. Digital grew up as opposed to grew down like polaroid did, and to some extent kodak. Nikon is another company that grew down. At least in film. Everybody who makes slrs grew up to them in the digital world.

I made a statement earlier I find of real interest, at least to me. You could make a digital camera in the shape of a football shoe, but to get top dollar, it has to look like a film camera. I find that strange.

bearing in mind i shoot film, only film, in a full manual pentax. mostly ilford. now, i think more to the point, program mode was made for the photographer who wanted to know nothing bout photography. what i do resent is that theres no rites of passage with digital, the right of passage im going through now. the one where you set the focus manually on f.8 because you don't have time to pic it up, you have to assume that youve got the right aperture and shutter cos youve no time to look at your meter and you go around taking pictures trying to capture nice light (using a red filter if you're me). digital full program mode + autofocus + plus lens that means you dont even have to be involved with what you shoot + channel mixer = instant street photography. ****es me off, anyway, most who do that will end up crap. other than that, im thinking digital is good for pros, youve got all the elements of film, just cheaper, only reason i dont convert is:
1. i havent earnt it yet IMO, im still a padawan, if i had a digital, id end up sucking.
2. too expensive for one
3. digital is still young, and crap: you need at least 9 megapixels to print a4, digital noise is horribly ugly, nothing like real film grain and most digital shots reak of digital.

 

[mysteryscribe]

On digital picture looks someone else said you never hear them say that butter tastes just like margarine do ya? Digital pictures even the best one look different. My word for it is Plastic I doubt that will hold up in any camera advertising but it's how it looks to me. Just like rc paper.

 

[JamesD]

Hey, now! What's wrong with RC paper?

 

[mysteryscribe]

It just ain't natural... lol i use it myself but it looks like something that goes in a bathroom not a darkroom..