And Other Delights
Whiskeytown Lake - Sunday evening
(Phone rings) It’s my landline.
I pick it up and press the white engraved button with a black receiver emblem printed on it and answer, “Hello?”.
(A slight hesitation)
“Hello, Mr. Seymour?”, intones a voice that reminds me of Alexander Scourby, but with a pinch of humor twinkling in his clear unhurried baritone delivery.
Sunday moon about 7:30pm
“Yes, who is this?”, I ask with my own curious but confident radio voice, while wondering if I should know who this person is?
The top of Shasta Bally from the lake visitor center
The amusement in his vocal quality clicks up a notch and he replys; “Mr. Seymour, this is Christopher Robin, and I have a gift for you.”
(Christopher Robin is not the name he said, but that’s what I remember hearing)
“Gift?”, I say noncommittally, but with a slight lift at the questionmark.
A slight pause, as though this is not the narrative that he expected, then; “Beginning next month, your phone bill will be a little smaller”. He recites this with just a slight lack of conviction as though that scripted line has no relevance in this exchange that has become, (for us), radio voice theater.
Also picnic island
“Thank you. That would be very nice”, I respond with a genuine appreciative melody.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Seymour”, he replies carefully with a bit of surprise and polite graciousness resting lightly atop a layer of gravitas.
We both wait for a beat... then hangup.
The Glory Hole at Whiskeytown Lake
That was fun. I have no idea what that phone call was about, but I really enjoyed the experience. It could have been the dialogue of a spy movie or The Twilight Zone. It was that perfect.
The rhythms, cadence, beats, breathing and tonal qualities were classic. Who ever it was, I thank him for making my day this evening.