INNEREAL ADVENTURES - ONE

THE PROLOGUE

The Adventure of Byron and Jacobis

A Kendall Daddo Story

THE PROLOGUE

[‘Twas Christmas morning, one year ago. (I think it is appropriate to begin a story like this with the word, ‘twas. It has quite a nice ring to it.)

Yes, it was Christmas morning, one year ago and the entire family (there are seven of us) was seated in the living room on sofas and chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace. We were opening up presents from each other, starting, as usual, with the youngest and working our way in chronological order to the oldest, me.

I was seated in my usual spot on the brick hearth in front of the fireplace. (I suppose that I adopted this location because, from it, I could survey everything that was going on in the room.) What a joy were those annual excursions into the mixture of madness and gladness.

You know what I mean. (My wife certainly does.) These kinds of events don’t just happen on their own. The madness is all of the activity necessary to bring everything together, and the gladness is the result of the entire experience.

There I was, seated with a few wrapped packages nestled at my feet, which, of course, were distributed to each of us by the youngest child. After a few rounds, I selected a flat rectangular package that was given to me by my third child. When the family was done looking at what my wife had just opened (probably another pair of cozy pajamas, which she seemed to get every year), I lifted up the package and began to unwrap it. My first observation was that it was a book with white pages and a hardbound black leathery cover. That is, indeed, what it was, but the secret of the black book was revealed when I opened it and read, The Adventure of Byron and Jacobis on the title page.

I looked up at my three older children and acknowledged that I instantly knew that this was obviously meant to be the most recent salvo in their battle to convince me to write down a story that I told them many years previously. So, I heartily thanked my daughter and voiced yet another time that I agreed with them that it certainly would be nice to write it down so that we could all remember it better and re-live the adventure.

(You may have noticed from the very first sentence that it still took another year before I actually started writing in that blank black book.)

The story was born many years earlier when the children were quite young – born on a drive in the family minivan to go visit Grandpa, my father.

I believe it was also a Christmastime visit because my wife stayed home with a bad cold. She always seemed to get these dreadful colds or headaches right when school would get out for a winter or spring or summer break. She always said it was the “let go” or the release of pressure as she anticipated going into a nice break. (She, of course, knows that all too well, having taught first grade for twenty-five or so years.)

So, it was I and the four children. Number five was yet to arrive about a year later. (Maybe that was the reason my wife was ill. Hmmm, interesting... )

Yes, it was the five of us all together in the family minivan heading down the road to Grandpa’s house for a nice afternoon visit and dinner. The drive usually took about an hour and, on that particular day, it seemed like a good idea to help that hour along a bit with a story.]