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                                                ԁ ́ ҁ                            Michael Stutz                  Independent Study with Dr.  Kirk                           April 10, 1990                                    A bucolic wooden fence lines the backdrop of the park,  composed of weather-worn oak boards stretching skyward and aligned  together in a sublime row.  A few small, snow-swept pines dot the surrounding area in clusters of two or three.  The dry earth  underneath holds the burlap from which they were wrapped, now  exposed to the wintry stillness.  The trees are illuminated by  tall iron street lamps from the parking lot, where cars lay like  toys.  Behind the fence the dark chocolate forest lays in a black  watercolor smear, blending into the indigo December sky.  Freezing  rain  pelts down with a dismal syncopation.  The northern wind  bangs against the gigantic, leafless elm trees on the hill to the  left.   Their spidery limbs lay still and are veiled in the misty  air.  The rain-water can be heard dripping into the sewers by the  cars.  Atop the hilly grass, the snow is matted from rain and  footprints.          It is this setting that Jane Gillcrest and Ed Thompson arrived for a midnight sledding excursion.  Jane had shown visible excitement in that she'd get a chance to be with her  friend in such a neo-romantic locale.  Ed just wanted to relive  his childhood glory as king of the toboggans.  They had no problem getting out of the house at eleven-thirty on a weeknight - it was winter break, just a few days before Christmas, and as such neither of them had any pressing plans for  the next morning, except maybe get a few last-minute gifts for the family, which was to be expected.   The drive there was uneventful, they had spent most of the time  admiring some of the local Christmas decorations that the ex-  hippies, the yuppies, and the future muppies had placed outside  of their respective adobes.          Standing atop a sharp incline, Jane studied the gully  it formed at the bottom, where the thirty foot slope met the flat  field.  "You know, I don't think there's enough snow down there to cushion our sled."  Her face bore a thoughtful expression.         Ed was already sitting down on his side of the sled,  waiting for her to board.  "Don't worry about it.  It's fine," he said, and almost added: "Besides, you'll be in front."  He  patted the front of the sled and she reluctantly sat down in  deference.  "That last one was kinda close, too.."           The rain had hardened their clothes and beat into their faces when Ed pushed them off the top.  His wet baseball cap  barely covered his ears and was equally useless in keeping the  rain off his head.  For a brief moment they could see the entire  forest surrounding the large, white field that lay before them.   As the plastic tub dipped downward, Ed felt the euphoric feeling of complete loss of bodily control and heard Jane let out a  fusillade of intense shouts.  her hands were bonded to the legs  of his jeans.  Those few seconds after breaking the precipice felt like a suspended eternity to Ed, and the wetness that was  about him took on a sudden freshness.  The wind blowing in his  face along with Jane's long golden hair was suddenly affable and  carefree.  The sled glided down the hill almost completely without a sound, yet it seemed to scream with a thunder not unlike Jane's vocal chords.  Ed let out a whoop.            When they careened to the bottom, the sled hit the ditch with sudden force which flung them mercilessly from the sled,  breaking both of their screams with rude abruptness.  Jane landed  facedown in the snow, and Ed managed to become wedged between the  hard ground and the now-capsized sled.  They sat there for a brief  moment in the aftermath, the cadence of constant rainfall in their ears.           Jane shook herself up and surveyed the outcome of the debacle.  "Ooow!  My back is KILLING me!  Oooow!"  Ed kept still  under the sled, fatuously feigning an injury.   "Hey, Eddie, get  up!"  Jane fumbled over to his body and tugged on his jacket.  "Eddie, you okay?   Eddie?"  She looked down at his face.  Ed let  his mouth form a slow grin and let out a sheepish, "Yeah."            "Let's get back to the car.  I don't know about you, but I'm freezin!"  Jane agreed and the two of them limped back to the  parking lot, their spirits dwindling as the realization of their  coldness crept over them.       When they got to Ed's car, he had trouble getting the key to turn, and they stood there shaking in the cold.  Geesh, this  really helps things, he thought.  C'mon, Ed, get that damn key in  there!     "Finally!  Get in, " he told her as he opened her door.  He  threw the sled in the back seat atop his school books and snow  scraper, and started the car.     It took a while for the car to warm up in the cold temperature, and so Ed had to refrain from turning on the heater. "God, I'm free-zing!  My knees are just shaking!"  he said.  Jane admitted that they were.  "But it looks cute," she said with a smile.      "I hate that word."     "Why?" she asked him.     "Because it sounds like something you call a stuffed animal. You know, a dog's cute, a teddy bear's cute, but I'm NOT cute!" He smiled at her.     She laughed in her characteristic style and said, "Okay. You're not cute at all."     When the windshield was defogged to Ed's level of satisfaction, he turned on the lights and heater and pulled out of the parking lot.  It was down in the valley; they drove up a narrow road overlooking the slushy slopes and dark forest, passing the pine conglomeration and left Pinewood Park.       They were silent for a ways, mesmerized by the windshield wipers, which on slow speed perfectly swept the droplets of rain off the windshield in a constant rhythmic fashion.  Getting closer to Jane's house, in the residential area of town, Ed took in his surroundings: the midnight road, the comfortable houses, and the pine trees.  As they were climbing a particularly big hill, he saw a milky white light expanding through the fog at the crest of the hill.  The moonlike glow outlined every detail on the top patch of road, including the gravel and broken glass on the berm.  The pines near the road were showered with an energy like a country sunrise.  It slowly rose until it momentarily blinded them, then dividing into two distinct circles.  Without flash or fanfare, the smoky vapors disappeared and the roadside put its nighttime cloak back on as the passing car drove by.  "Jane, that's the best thing I like about driving at night."     She was slightly startled by the abrupt break in the silence. "What is?"     "When you see the light from a car overhill.  It's beautiful, it really is.  I think it's sort of a universal symbol, like a beacon of hope.  Does that mean anything, or am I just rambling?"     "No, go on."  She looked interested.     "That was an especially gratifying one.  He seemed to take his     time, inching along, getting bigger.  And the hill was real     big, too."  With another moment of thought he continued.     "It's almost a letdown when you see the car."     Jane reached over to his hand.  "That was beautiful."     "Gee, thanks.  It was just something I thought of.  Oh hell, feel sick, Jane.  My clothes are still wet.  How about yours?"     "Not too bad.  I've got more vents on my side."  She directed some of the air vents on the dash toward Ed.     "Thanks.  When you're sick, the wet feels bad tugging at you.  I wonder if I have Ryes Syndrome."     Jane laughed.  "No, silly.  That happens when you take aspirin when you have a fever.  But it only happens to people our age. Teenagers."     Ed felt slightly nervous, and this was apparent in the way he spoke.  "I'm feeling really sick.  My stomach hurts, and my head's pounding."     "My bosses' nephew died a couple of months ago from Ryes.  She was only sixteen, younger than us."  She looked at him with compassion, and said, "suck on an orange, it'll clean out your system.  I know how you feel, even water feels like it has a film on it, so don't have any.  That's because of all the chemicals they pump into it."     "Yeah, Pepsi's okay because it's so carbonated and you can't taste the gunk.  I just wanna get better."       The roads were slick from the freezing rain and clumps of snow, and so he had to drive slowly.  They were following the yellow strobe of a salt truck now, and it looked like it was heading toward Jane's development.  Funny, Ed thought.  He's not putting down any salt.       Soon a police cruiser pulled out of a side street onto the road, heading in the opposite direction, and the salt truck put its salt release on full.  Ed didn't appreciate it very much. "Lookit those jerks.  Salt's going all over the place.  It's going to ruin my paint job."  The salt crystals whisked under his tires and crackled underneath the car.  Ed was relived to pull into Jane's driveway and off the trail of the truck.       "Goodnight, honey," she said, and gave him a kiss.  "Get some rest, you look awful."     "So that's why you like me, isn't it?"  he joked.     "Of course.  Call me tomorrow.  Bye."  He watched her run up to her door, and get in, half uninterested because of the throbbing in his body.  He pulled out of the drive at top speed and guided his car down the road.       Passing the city hall on the way home, he couldn't help notice the elaborate Christmas lights his Ohio town had put up this year. The multicolored lights shone through the misty night, making the air cheery and bright.  Hey, it rhymes, he thought.  Too bad noone else is out tonight to see this.     He drove on, driving down the hilly backroads of his city. Passing one of the white shoebox houses, he looked at it's front light, which looked like the light on the Heritage House food cartons at home.  It looked like some kind of beacon on the little whitewashed wooden pole.  The light refracted through the glass in several directions.     A beacon, he thought.  Like the car lights.     He forgot about his physical pain and slowed down.  Looking at the quaint house with its humble light in the front yard, he thought about their sled trip and how fun it was.  It was like art, he mused.  Even the greatest artists never accomplished all that they wanted to.  Or did they?  I sure didn't finish doing everything I've wanted to.  There really is a limited time to doing things.  God, I know that you can't have it all but I guess this is the first time that I realized that you can't even have a substantial amount of it.  That's depressing as hell, Ed Thompson.  But it's probably true.  So heaven must be eternal art or something?  And one thing is sure of life -- you're going to die.  And I guess that's when everything is complete.       Ed continued towards home, following the midnight road. 
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