Turn, Turn, Turn...

The title above was to be followed by something relating to the turns of the tides or some such. That was the title of a pretty good song by The Byrds… There is a reason and a season for all things, a time to love, a time to hope… a time to hate. I’m not sure about this last one. But, when yours truly sat at the computer and the little egg began to finally hatch, as often happens, something entirely different came out.

Every so often, when my eyes face this blank screen and the fingers are poised to fly (not to mention with a few false starts!!) and take us (you with me!) into this world of thoughts, memories, ideas… etc., The Great Void rushes up at my staring face and overwhelms my very self. It  becomes one huge rolling wave of sand, covering all in its path, leaving nothing to show there was life in this spot. But, just before this giant wave covers the computer screen and reaches out to me, this little light (always to the left and down, don’t know quite why) seems to gain ground and begins to slowly beat back the onrush of the “Deadly Sands of The Void”… Hmmm, this could almost be a good title for a “B-” horror movie… Aha!! An idea is forming and it needs just a little bit of time to hatch and come out of the egg… Well, maybe a little more time…

I see a shadow slowly emerge from this haze… Huh, what did you say? OK, OK… from the egg yolk (it is just that “haze” is so much more intriguing) Wait, a face is taking shape and is that of a dear friend with whom several adventures were shared over a period of some 3-4 years. Including a stint where he gave yours truly room and board for some 4 months in Paris, after a nasty run in with my ex-wife (no one died)… but that bit is a story for another time.

Marc is his name. He is somewhere around ten years younger than I but submersed in a sea of Gallic despair, tinged with some sprinkles of depression and a pinch of paranoia. Throw in a few bottles of wine and Whiskey and you get the proper mix.  But totally loving and giving where friendship is concerned and this is paramount to him, and me. No questions asked…  Did I say he is a true sample of Gallic self?

_”Marc” said I over the phone lines… _”need to get away from here for a while”

-“When can you get here” answered he, without giving it a thought.

Never mind that he and his younger bride lived then in a one bedroom apartment in Paris; never mind he was extremely jealous of having anyone know where his home really was. You see, we met through, and were dealing in, a business which involved all the goodies of that B movie mentioned before: mystery, intrigue, lies, treachery, money (unfortunately not much in our hands) characters from those parts of the world always considered far, different and “sinister”; midnight trips to answer a mysterious summons (we often went to all these places in search and pursuit of this very elusive and unholy grail) across the border to Germany, or Austria, or Belgium or Switzerland because “everything was ready”… only to find out things were far from being ready to move forward… You get it.

Along with Marc (and a few others in the group), we dealt in the intriguing world of international Bullion sales; in the world of Iraqi oil dinars for food (turned out to be one of the greatest frauds in UN History), International Letters of credit, raw jewels… etc. Nothing ordinary here… Never quite were able to make a sale or purchase, but meeting all these people from Africa, South America and the Middle East was a story unto itself. The principal always came accompanied by at least 5 characters right out of a Dickensian novel (not the good guys) carrying an attaché case. The routine was always the same; once we went through all the red tape and met with the principal, we would all have a cup of espresso coffee and then the gentleman would proceed to slowly dig out, from the bottom of this case a very small, tightly wrapped vial full of gold powder, jewel(s), or sample bills with accompanying documents –usually 2-4 years out of date. This was always presented as a small sample of what, without fail, was back home: tons of the stuff… You know and we know, even without knowing, this is just not so… If someone had talked about 50, 100 even 500 pounds of gold powder it might be believable but… Tons ??? Marc had the contacts (he did) for refineries and jewel exchange individuals in Europe and Africa and I had (and have) contacts for other banking transactions; we were always on the lookout for and in pursuit of those who claimed to have the other ingredients needed to complete one such transaction, no matter what this could be. However, 99% are frauds or just simple liers who believe everyone else fools.

Looking back, we had an interesting time in Paris and the many other places we went to over the course of some 3-4 years. We shared some money and more often than not a good dose of poverty along with many bottles of good French wine and cheese. We are still good friends, although our communication has suffered during the last 3 years, as has my communication with most people. Yet, we do talk; his health is too far from good to be comfortable… too much whiskey, too much tobacco, too much wine, and too much bread, butter and cheese. I exchange notes with his daughter, another dear friend and she keeps me up with his situation. I will do my best to visit him before I have to regret not doing so.

I am sure Marc will be back to these postings, along with many other one-of-a-kind characters we, together, met and waded through. Someday when this is all past (believe it or not, it is still somewhat ongoing at this time, although now more from a distance and at a different level) these 9 - 10 years will make one hell of a book. I promise you, if it ever comes to pass, you will have first reads.

Be Well… Be Back!!