A Tale of an Arabian Night
I do not recall my first sighting of the Bedouin Chief but I recall quite vividly the arrival of his tribe. It was a sunny fall day and I was peacefully passing my time in the lower dorm of the Webb Schools of California. Suddenly I spied a Flamboyant Red Head accompanying three young women outfitted in identical red, white, and blue dresses. I learned later this was a tribal pattern signifying loyalty to another Bedouin from Arizona named Goldwater. They were heading in my direction making loud noises and carrying much baggage. It was unclear to me why I did not see any camels. The occasion of this outing was the relocation of the Bedouin Chief's eldest son, Charles Gregory. I must confess I was so overwhelmed by this show of force that I beat a hasty retreat into the confines of my room and did not engage anyone in conversation. Over the ensuing weeks I came to know Charles Gregory and was in fact invited to partake of a festival at the home of the Bedouin Chief and the Flamboyant Red Head. Upon entering the home I was led into the massive room where they no doubt constructed the tents. Large bolts of fabric were spread about and the Flamboyant Red Head was fashioning more tribal dresses. Come to think of it I never saw a tent. I was immediately made to feel most welcome. The warm welcome I came to learn over the years is a fixture of this family and particularly of the Flamboyant Red Head. I have never felt deserving of such affection but always most appreciative. Having been overwhelmed by the tent works I was ushered into the work shop where I was overwhelmed by the display of machinery and armaments. Clearly the Bedouin Chief was a man of great distinction. That evening I met the Bedouin Chief who turned out to be a gracious host and educator. I recall learning how to train ones dogs to remain off the patio during a barbeque and the medical difference between liberating a miasma, flatulating and passing gas. Overwhelmed by the depth of his medical skills I became a patient and benefited from his insights and probings for many years to come. I was often a guest in the home of the Bedouin Chief and the Flamboyant Red Head and recall many a time where I was shown great understanding and patience. It was here I learned why one must never go searching in Arcadia late at night for the third bottle of tequila. Although I had the good fortune to pass the night safely and recall leaving a wake of young Bedouins in various stages of deep sleep and prolonged cleansing. Such activities no doubt helped prepare me for the invitation into the ancient and honorable order of E Clampus Vitus. The meaning of which I still do not know. But I did learn that the Bedouin Chief was in fact worthy of beatification in the eyes of certain historians including myself. Its been a grand experience to be so fortunate to have shared time with the Bedouin Chief and the Flamboyant Red Head. Best wishes for many more tribal outings and great times together. Miles Back to the Memory Book or: |