Jim Harrison - The Ancient Minstrel

He finally reached Mona. She was writing a paper about Machado, a Spanish poet she adored. Her look into Ziegler’s situation revealed a striking mess. Mona had gone back into the group and reported that while one twin had lost interest and left the group the beloved pet daughter Ziegler had mentioned lived with the teacher-master and did the cooking, an important position in the community. The three grand her father sent doubtless went for food as the master was quite a trencherman. Sunderson had also checked things out with his ex-wife Diane who he remembered had been a Zen student in college, purportedly a serious and traditional student compared with the goofies in Ann Arbor at whom Diane took serious umbrage. Sunderson knew from Diane about Mona’s many mental issues arising from college, her distant father and worthless mother, and her rock ’n’ roll ex-lover. With Diane’s encouragement Mona had become interested in Zen as a way to try to resolve some of this. Mona didn’t mind deferring to authority which was part of Zen, really more a total attitude than a religion. However, Diane was rather strict on observances of over a thousand years of tradition, stricter than her own Zen training in college from what Mona told him. There was an American tendency to try and adapt everything to our lack of customs. If Mona said she was going to sit on her zafu for a full stick of incense Diane expected the total of forty minutes. So Diane was furious on hearing that Ziegler’s daughter was having an affair with the “master.” Under no condition should a teacher have sexual relations with a student. Diane was vehement about this.

Sunderson could see that he would be regarded by the group with strong suspicion. Mona had expressed interest in joining the group so she could hang around there more, and suggested that she volunteer his services as a janitor in the church basement, fortunately pretty well soundproofed, where they met. Everything was organized around volunteer work but Americans aren’t enthused about the janitorial so it would be easy for her to get her “uncle interested in Zen” in as the group’s janitor.

The master himself was to be called “Sky Blast,” his idea, and he came from San Francisco. He appeared one day in Ann Arbor, supposedly to visit an old girlfriend, and took up wearing his traditional black robes around campus. Sky Blast also loved zoos and it was at the Detroit Zoo where he came upon his idea of howler monkeys to which we are related though not nearly so closely as to chimpanzees. The master’s contention was that we were primates who began life howling. Mona was amused by this but found the howling unbearable compared with the traditional silence of meditation. Certain sopranos in the group were absolutely shattering. The howling was considered a privilege and on specific days only a few righteous students were allowed to howl and the others had to remain silent. There was one day of total silence per week and Mona wondered if they’d become suspicious if she attended only on those days. Security was taken to the utmost because early on there was an interloper who wrote a parodic exposé and played a recording of the howling when he was interviewed on a local radio station. Practice was early every morning after Margaret Ziegler served them a Tibetan breakfast. If you wanted to be holy no one could compete with Tibetans. Mona said the food was edible if you brought your own hot sauce. This was against the rules but members did it anyway.

During Mona’s first dokusan, a private meeting with Sky Blast, he had asked her to arrange her robes so he could see up under them. The same old, same old, she thought but did so out of a sense of humor. They were interrupted by his lover Margaret, who glared at Mona’s loose robes. Mona noticed later that Margaret was still peeved when she demanded that Mona peel extra potatoes for the communal dinner. Sky Blast said that he had been mourning for Tibetan refugees and needed to see bare thighs to save his spirits. He got an eyeful as Mona rarely wore undies. After that he managed to brush up against her suggestively several times. Ziegler’s son, Michael, was obviously the lout of the group. His sister had to keep an eye on him or he would drink schnapps.

Sunderson reported in to Ziegler, limiting what he had to say, and told him of the plan to infiltrate. Ziegler was anxious and wanted him to drive down that evening but Sunderson was tired and had a plan with Barbara early the next morning. The first and last sex with her hopefully would be memorable.

Marion had returned during his phone call with Mona and chuckled incredulously when Sunderson filled him in. They had caught six fish in all and drove hastily home and made a fish chowder with potatoes, salt pork, and onions. You poached the fish first to have a stock. Diane usually served it with a pat of butter on top and then you watched it melt patiently. You rounded it out with some half-and-half and a dash of Tabasco.

They watched part of a pro football game but it was dreary and low scoring and they were drowsy so they made it an early night.

Weather permitting Barbara intended to come over early in the morning to weed and Sunderson spent a restless night brooding about Marion’s lecture and his morning plans. He wasn’t quite sure he could say to himself that sex was over for this short life. He was okay when he was still married to Diane but cutting that cord he became a nutcase. Could he deny himself beauty? Of course. Jail or prison would be particularly unpleasant for an ex-lawman.

Nevertheless, as agreed he left the back porch door unlocked for Barbara then waited all night for the click with a mixture of dread and anticipation. First he heard her pull up on her bicycle then walk softly and slowly up the stairs. She stood in his open doorway, smiled, and pulled off a sweatshirt and down with the shorts. Now she was nude. She sat gently on his bare chest and said, “This little bear went to market,” and tickled his penis with her bare hand. She leaned over and gave him a rough French kiss, straddled his cock, and put it all the way in with a gasp.

“I think I love you more than my boyfriend.”

“Don’t say that.” He held her back by her elbows thinking that this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Marion’s words drummed in his ears. “You better pick on someone your own age.”

She rolled into a crunch. “Do me like a dog. I read that people did that.”

His resistance folded. He was on her with particular gusto, thinking that he was the happiest man on earth for the time being. Her back was radically muscular from gymnastics and she revolved herself below the waist aggressively. “Do that thing you did the first time on the sofa,” she said. He knew she meant to go down on her which he did. She had a delightful whimper but then he heard the back gate of the garden open and Barbara’s mother call out for her. She was off the bed and deep into the closet in a trice. His heart hammered and he opened the window and answered. The upshot was that she was driving down the alley and had seen Barbara’s bicycle at the back of his garden. Was she here? “No,” he yelled. “She must have walked downtown with a friend. She’s working here later.” “Tell her to call when she shows up. Okay?” Barbara’s mother continued down the alley in her blue Chevy. Barbara came out of the closet and laughed at his limp dick. “You aren’t turned on by my mother?” She blew him then while giggling. “My boyfriend wants this every day. It gets boring.” It worked and they returned to eating then dog style.

There was a very brief moment of shame, again a recall of Marion’s lecture. If it didn’t stop now when he was sixty-six when did it stop? It couldn’t continue, could it? In Blake’s terms what are the actual limits of desire? He had no philological knowledge of what constitutes it. After the prom in high school his date Missy Carling had fallen asleep drunk on a friend’s floor and he had shamefully lifted her frilly prom dress for a look. They were steady dates but other than simple kissing she wouldn’t allow a touch, and he couldn’t help thinking if he were still the star linebacker and not a lowly wrestler she’d feel differently. When swimming they would wrestle a little but the water diminished the sexuality of the act while lifting her dress was explosive, even more so than the tight swimsuit photos of Janet Leigh in Life magazine which had him chewing his fingers painfully. Once after a workout he was resting on a wrestling mat and Missy stood over his head in her scanty cheerleader outfit. He was keenly aware of her exposed body in all of its glory. As a senior she had abandoned him in favor of the star basketball player who had taken the team to the state semifinals. This made him burn with rage. He got in a fight with the guy who was unfortunately tough. The coach made them put on big, puffy sixteen-ounce gloves. The fight was declared a tie when Sunderson had hit him in the gut until he puked on the sidewalk outside the gym door. Missy watched the fight and was so disgusted she said she would never speak to him again, and she didn’t until graduation day when she gave him a French kiss and said that he had always been the best kisser. She went off in the fall to Brown University on a big scholarship and ended up marrying a rich guy which had always been her ambition as the daughter of a poor biology teacher. The wedding was in Marquette but he hadn’t been invited, he thought because he was at Michigan State. The basketball player was invited but then he went to the University of Michigan which was thought to be a step up and played star quality basketball there.