Saturday Morning & No Cartoons

Saturday Morning
There were two late arrivals Saturday morning, and one who confessed to an aspirin.
“What do you remember from last night?” MA said.
Many more hands rose this morning. Art shared that he realized he made a choice that people liked him. He told his fishing story.

"When I was six years old my family lived in Hood River, Oregon. This was the summer before I started first grade. It was a most eventful summer. I learned about Indian giving, baseball, what happens to stray dogs, television, friends and a lesson in fishing that became a story I’ve told thishundreds of times.
"It was a hot dry day. As I walked to the irrigation pond to practice fishing the sound of crackling pine needles accentuated each step. I was going to fish, or actually practice fishing, for this body of water was an irrigation pond. I knew fish did not live in here, but my sense of fishing was tie on a hook, or have someone else do it, stick on a worm , cast and wait., I loved to cast, but waiting was the hard part. I was sitting very zen-like when Andy an older neighborhood kid showed up. He looked like Alfalfa from the Our Gang series, with red hair and a spiked cow-lick. He was wearing blue coveralls and he was barefoot.
“Hey whatcha doin?” He asked.
“Fishin.” I said.
“Well come here, I’ve got something to tell ya. It’s a secret.”
"I started to pull out my line when he said. "
“No leave that there. Hurry.”
He led me behind a barn away from where I could see the pond or my line.
Something felt fishy as I listened.
“Uh, have you seen that new science fiction show on TV? It’s so neat.”
“Yea.” I said with great enthusiasm. “I love it.”
“Well don’t tell anyone about it, OK?”
The fishiness had now become a school of confused fish.
He turned and walked back to the pond and two other older kids and one younger kid. Joe, Billy and young Bobby.
“Don’tcha think you should reel in your line,” one of them said.
"I don’t ever remember kids paying that much attention to me, but with a bit of embarrassment I reeled. There was a fish on. I felt it as I reeled in.
"I had a fish on. A six incher. I think I beamed a very broad smile. And, I knew, the kids had put the fish on the hook.
"I they liked me. They wanted me to catch a fish. It was a gift. It wasn’t a trick, but it was. They may have been fishing for my soul, because that is what I caught that day. My conscience was fed then. I knew people liked me. I wasn’t too sure up to that point."

Others shared:

“I realized I couldn’t lie when looking in someone’s eyes,” Michael said.
“Unless I ask, how can I get what I want?” Brenda, a washed-out mom, said.
“There’s a giant vacuum in the sky that wants to suck up all our negativity and limiting beliefs. I have a lot in need of sucking.” Winnie said in one of her shortest sharings. *
“MA told a good night story about the Golden Ball that showed up in my dream. I was small and excited about starting school. I knew there was something wonderful that I was going to learn. I had a ball I was going to take it to school so we all could play.
“IAM, you were in my dream as a kid. I knew it was you because you dressed the same in those large collared shirts. I put the ball under my arm and was going to take it to school. My dad said, ‘You can’t take the ball. There are kids who don’t have a ball and you don’t want to be different.’ Chuck, a myopic overweight thirty year old seemed to sleep at times in the room. But now tears seem to form on his cheeks as others raised a hand for a tissue. “I was crushed. I never felt special.”
IAM walked to Chuck’s side of the room, and gave Chuck a deep and reverent look.
“Chuck, today you can recreate your self and get back the Golden Ball.” “You’ll probably even find a bunch of other kids to play with.” MA said.
Ruth, a chiropractor who looked older than her years, spoke sounding like a nervous Auntie Em. Ruth looked like Art’s Nana.
“IAM, if all there is, is love, how are we going to keep from getting diseases? I mean, all this love means we will all sleep together and what’ll stop the sexually transmitted diseases?”
The Neophyte’s attention grew. The room changed from Chuck’s sadness to keen interest.
“What belief would someone have to have to think we’d all have sex with each other?” MA said.
Joe, the carpenter, raised his hand. “I don’t want to sleep with everyone. Just some of the women.”
The almost everyone in the room laughed.

Art sensed the room as an entity, it grew hot and cold as a barometer of feelings. The room held its own identity, a synergy of feelings everyone especially the trainers from years of experience, could read.
Jules, an earth momma, whom Art knew had slept with most of the men and some of the women said, “Ruth do you want to have sex with everyone?”
“Uh, yes, I guess I do.” Ruth spoke in a voice we’d never heard before.
The room focused on IAM.
“Now, you want the truth about sex.” IAM paused as the room’s attention trained at him.
“Well, the truth is everyone does it, did it, will do it. We all do it different, or similar. It’s not a competition, it’s fun. The truth part about sex is to get on or off it. If I’m attracted to someone I say it. ‘I’m sexually attracted to you’, and offer it up to the Hoover in the sky. Sex is not about obsessing and AWE is not about getting laid. Sex has chemistry and not everyone’s chemistry matches.”
Ruth sat down with a newfound grin.