I figure our various times are in us one way or the other. Within our little person, our manufactured guy, our wide-eyed innocent, our cataloguer - all our everybodys - from not just our beginning but from our parents and theirs before them and before them and before them - woven into a fabric so old the dust that it turned into is so far flung it drifts on an ocean wind, is wrapped in the sands of a Namibian desert, and could even lie beside the feather in the hallway. That mysterious chain that has us in situations, in places, on journeys, with significant others, has always taken my breath away - for better and for worse.

When I was 18 I read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. It spoke at a time when I could listen. One story within the many stories involves a secondary character - name of Wemmick. He is a clark in the employ of the inscrutable lawyer, Mr. Jaggers. Here's the gist of that tale - Jaggers has been instructed to give Pip money from his Benefactor. Jaggers has handed the responsibility to Wemmick. When we first meet Wemmick he is a buttoned down up-tight piece of officiousness. Pip is a little afraid of him and rightly so. Wemmick deals with some very serious clients/criminals with precision accompanied with an almost cold-hearted attack. One afternoon as Pip is picking up some much needed coin Wemmick asks if he would like to join him for dinner and the weekend. As a reader I agreed with Pip's trepidation - what could that possibly entail? Not wanting to be rude, or bite the hand, Pip agrees to the request. Wemmick, in his officious manner, tells Pip to come back at 5. On the dot. Pip shows up at the appointed hour and as he and Wemmick leave the law offices Wemmick deals out information to the various miscreants who linger about - scaring Pip even more as to what could lay in store. They begin the long march toward the city limits and with every step away from the workplace Wemmick becomes more animated, more congenial. By the time he and Pip approach Wemmick's house Pip is told not to be surprised by a cannon blast that is imminent. Wemmick's dad, a character he calls The Aged, fires off a small cannon as his son approaches each evening. He then lowers a little draw-bridge that leads over a small creek toward the cottage Wemmick and the Aged call home. Sure enough the cannon sounds, the bridge is let down and Pip passes a delightful weekend in the company of the two gentlemen. On the Monday morning as they walk away from the cottage - it is all joy and happiness but as they get closer to town Wemmick begins to assume his other character. By the time they arrive at the law offices he is completely transformed.

That's a little bit like us I think - Wemmick at work and Wemmick at home and all of the Wemmicks each step between. Whatever the worlds you're coming from, whatever the worlds you're going to I wish you a safe and loving journey.