A WIZ

With light music, easy listening with a touch of blues melody in the background, Dorothy mouthed words relaying her own blue funk. To the tune of 5th Dimension's song... "One Less Man", Dorothy crooned...

No more bones to buy...

One less dog... to go chase after...

I am missin him soooo...

I just can't deny...

I just don't want to cry...

It's just OH...

So-o-o hard .... what heartache...

That I should suffer

Oh-h-h-h-h oh-oh-oh-oh...

She was interrupted by a faint sound in the near distance. From her bedroom, Dorothy could hear the light 'yapping' of the little dog next door. She had been oblivious to it... had not heard him until now, "Yip yip, er roo roo roo roo roo roo." It sounded like her own or the one she used to have. ToTo had been killed, or assumed so, three years ago when he leaped from the window of her car. She was returning from registration at school. The toy schnauzer never knew what happened. In the traffic of Dan Ryan Expressway, ToTo was gone and Dorothy was left in a turmoil of emotion. He'd been lost just outside the gateway of the "Hub." She had dreamed many times of his reappearance... dreams that included scenes from their many escapades throughout her youth. The cold blustery day she'd been lost in a Manhattan snowstorm... and not returned until several days later to the arms of her waiting family. It was Thanksgiving then. There was also the storm that had blown into town and lifted her and ToTo up and away from the open spaces of Kansas. Wichita was never the exciting place, but that storm was more than she or her aunt or uncle had bargained for. Through each incident, she had welcomed the return to family and companionship provided by ToTo, her ever faithful friend. In his absence the days were long but certain to come as the days of the years are known to do.

She went over to the window to peek at the neighbor's dog. It was not a schnauzer, but a Pomeranian - a ball of tan fluff. The neighbor's dog Buppy was no comparison to her ToTo even with his constant alarm. As she approached the glass, the ball of fluff rose up on his hind legs toying with her, coaxing her to play. Smiling down at him she slid the window open and tossed a small ball into his yard. He ran after it, returning once and flipping the ball high enough for her to scramble and catch. Again, she tossed the ball. He retrieved it, flipping it up to her again. It was almost as if ToTo was here; but she knew different. ToTo was lost, three years lost. She threw the ball one last time and retreated back into her room pulling the window shut. She thought now of her own future. College courses were going well and she would soon be a candidate for the higher level studies on campus. This meant she would be leaving home for her own space... a college dorm or apartment, but her own space. For the first time, she would be alone and, ToTo...her usual companion, was not available.

At dinner, while assisting her aunt with preparations for the table, she mentioned her options for continuing school. Emma was hesitant about her niece departing for any purpose. Since agreeing to raise her, she had guarded Dorothy by every means possible. Twice she had almost lost her brother's child. First to a tornado and again to a terrible blizzard. A promise was a promise and she had made that to her dying brother. Until now, she'd kept that promise and raised Dorothy like the child she never had. College would be a new challenge. They had looked into many campuses but Dorothy was bent on attending the University of Rochester. Out of all her choices... Howard University in the nation's capital... Grambling in Georgia.. Spellman in Alabama; Dorothy had chosen to remain with her selection of the university in the state of New York. She would attend the university upstate, not far from her uncle's prior residence. It was situated closely enough to Buffalo, New York but well within a distance to allow maintenance of solace. A small community like Rochester would provide more for her necessary security, a more peaceful and protected environment. Although they no longer had family members there in the state, her interest had developed with the introduction of her father's brother, Robert, a news media mogul. He had moved away from a Buffalo suburb and was long since in Michigan. She would be alone for the two years remaining for a degree. They sat through dinner with no alternate plan. As they cleared away the dishes and remainder of the meal Dorothy passed by the kitchen window in time to see a flash of light strike the ground. A loud terrified half shriek, half bark came from the yard and Dorothy dashed out through the kitchen door to check on her prior playmate. They had obviously forgotten he was outdoors. As she ran out, the sky cut loose pummeling her with hail and blinding rain. Another clap of lightening in the neighboring yard and thunder to echo its damage was not enough to send her inside. As she neared the fence another bolt of lightening fell, this time catching the fence as she reached out to look over it. The bracelet on her arm radiated the effect. Instead of seeing Buppy, her head reeled with stars and colors blending into and around like a kaleidoscope. Moments later, she felt herself sliding through an opalescent tube of yellows, varied shades of white and tourmaline green.

When her vision cleared she could see a trail of yellow grass. As if it had wilted from some source of terrible heat. It seemed to lead to a brighter trail, a path of gold. Beyond it was what appeared to be a kitchen door. She stood to follow the yellowed grass. Follow it to return to familiar ground. Familiar ground that she should never have bolted out of in a raging electrical storm. She followed the trail of yellow grass until it became a solid trail of golden clay that soon led into a solid walkway of stones laid in a pattern unmistakable as the way out. She followed this toward what resembled her kitchen door a short distance away but further than she remembered. As she walked now, more surefooted than before, she passed signs discarded into open fields. "Dan Ryan" ... "I-55" ... DELLSWAY" ... none meaning much except that she was making progress of movement. Halfway along a supported walkway, she came upon and almost tripped over the outstretched tail of what resembled a lion. It was fuzzy faced with the mane of napped hair upon its head and face. The tanned body was muscular and extremities proportionate to the rest of the beast, but that tail from out of no place, was out of place. It, the beast, lay stretched across her path keeping he from passing the noisy doorway where it lounged. The sign overhead read BLUESTAR HEALTH & FITNESS but here he lay... outside. As she stumbled to avoid falling over him, she could hear the clanging of heavy equipment beyond the glass wall and door. He lay outside in his hugeness until she startled him in her surprise. "Wow?" he jumped up and began to sashay back and forth before the doorway. Now and then a hand would find place on his hip... left or right, as he threw shoulder after shoulder in a prize catching strut. Then he roared again, "Wow!" adding, "Get back, now get back gal!" He turned facing her with a menacing stance letting out one last, "Wow!" She steadied herself waiting for his assault. The lion like character was amusing, but something of which to be cautious. He spoke, "What's up!" She was caught off guard. Not waiting for her response, but noticing her apprehension, he announced, "Leo here, Ted Leo gal. What's up?" and began to strut again. As he strutted, the character broke into a pose flexing muscle after muscle and roaring, "Wow! Get back!" She watched, amazed at the obvious bravado, thinking to herself, "This one's a real show off." More relaxed now, she spoke up, "I'm trying to get home," and she attempted to step around him. "I know the way home!" He sounded confident in his suggestion of assistance. She paused after only one step, if only to question his definition. He leaped slightly, landing on one knee, swinging fuzzy arms out then bowing into a pectoral flex. "Yep, I know the way home." Dorothy smiled at his outspoken mannerism, "Then show me the way home." Leo stopped mid flex and stood, straightening his rumpled appearance.

"For sure!", he flashed a blinding smile. He peered into the window of the health and fitness club shivering,"I shudder to think of stepping into that." He raised one fuzzy hand above his brow, "Look at them! Man, now that's somethin!" Dorothy joined him in peering into the glass, "What are they doing?" He responded, "Sweatin! They are sweatin heavy!" She threw back, "Why aren't you in there? They look about like you... flexing, exercising. Why aren't you inside? He jumped back, "What!? Who?... me? " gagging, "No way!" He was overwhelmed."What I need..." pausing to fix his words, "...you see, I don't have the nerve! I can't do it like them. I need to work up the nerve to go in. I been tryin' for a while now, but I haven't made it in yet." Her mouth dropped open, This one before her was not what anyone would have considered to have an ounce of cowardice. "I'll show you how to go home, if you go with me to work up the nerve." She peered inside again. "Why don't you just walk in..." He cut her off abruptly, "ehhh... "he uttered, "... can't do that. Can't just walk in, I got to get the nerve." "Then let's go get the nerve..." she agreed with him, "We will work on your nerves." They both turned and walked past the intrusion of the club doorway. Past the doubt of his existence. They walked together along the brick road toward an assured goal. The goal of working up nerve for Leo and "getting back home" for Dorothy. They both walked together past the shambled buildings of the Hub, along the brilliant yellow trail that could take them where they needed to go. They went on along the yellow brick road.

Long past the health club and further up the walk, just beyond the viaduct they happened upon a scrap heap. Cars... and shells of cars were everyplace. Relics of both happy and sad times of families of individuals. Families and single folk, pleasant times and those distraught. Cars, empty shells of memory from short moments of life and lives. They were piled high in spots, some beneath a crane, others parked just behind an idle building with the low brick wall of a compactor off the side. Leo stopped suddenly, checking a sound heard deep inside, "Wait." He tipped inside the open gate to hear a repeated creaking of metal worn to rust in its dis-use. "Ah-heh." A sort of muffled comment creaking still deeper inside the fenced area. "Ah heh heh." Leo called our, "Who's there?" Dorothy peeked behind him into the pile of rubble. She could only see the rust of torn metal, cold hard metal.

"I looked inside my own...," he gestured with his hand, "...that old pickle over there. The others who were in the window with me are not there. I haven't looked in many more, but I saved them all so's I can." Then after relaxing his expression a bit, "I don't have the heart!" Leo inserted a suggestion, "We're going to get what we need, why... you come along to get you a heart!" They probably got one there, just what you need!" Dorothy agreed, "Yes, come along with us, "We'll help you gain the heart for most anything." They helped him get to his feet as he struggled to stand on his own. They cringed from the smell, but supported him long enough for him to pull himself together. Within thirty minutes... one half hour, they were on their way past the piles of rust and bended metal; on their way back along the brilliant yellow trail past a sign reading the name of his prison... THE TIN CAN... owner JAMMY HARTE. They were up and on their way to find the answer to all of their goals. A heart for the tin man... nerves for Ted Leo and the way home for Dorothy. They were headed, once again, up the yellow brick road. As they did, Dorothy looked for that familiar door in the distance. It was still shut. Still resembled the kitchen door, but was still shut. Beyond that door was her family, her life.

They plodded along up the yellow trail away from the scrap yard. In the near distance was a wooded area; across from that was the open field of an abandoned building, a monstrous structure. A building of glass and brick. Windows were broken where signs of anger showed a rock or bottle pitched through. Bricks were missing where decay had wasted the solid face. It no longer held the elegant restaurant it boasted, in name only, sprawled way above their heads. It no longer housed furniture or screening rooms, the lab or industry of long before. There were posted signs of progress but the true view revealed only decay. Birds flew in and out unhampered. Even a car could be seen passing through one section of a wall... could be seen by anyone looking. The attention of the threesome was caught by shreds of paper blowing in the wind. The paper seemed to be blowing from inside someplace; from inside and out into the mainstream of their path. The building was off their trail; off trail and therefore another hindrance to accomplishing their goal. More paper blew. It flowed out of the building as though a great storm was brewing inside. A storm strong enough to cast words into the air as meaningless as the strips of paper which held them. Strips of words flew by crossing their path and catching on the shrubbery in the field... the wooded area across on the other side. Dorothy reached up to grab one sliver of paper and to read what news it had to present. "Deep inside..." it was unclear. She crossed to the opposite side of the trail away from the darkness of the building ahead. In the wooded area many scraps lay attached to and under trees and low brush. She read another, "...except as we must be..." And another, "...nothing then, is there to stop us..." None of the messages meant much without a consistent thought. As she tried to reach for one last scrap of paper, she heard a funny tune carried by an even funnier voice, "Just for the hell of it..." It paused. She stood erect, listening, half wanting to dash away; but waiting to see who or what made the comment. More loudly, the voice crept from under a low swung limb of a tree. "Just for the HELL of it!" She dashed away now, as a short brown man, thin from what ailed him and gaunt as his attitude would leave him, jumped from under the limb. As it grabbed for her she rolled away and it sang the more loudly, "JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT! I try!" It was obviously more irritated at her response to this attempt. Dorothy rejoined the others wide eyed but sound minded and more alert. "I went the wrong way, let's look over there." The three stepped off and in the opposite direction; off the yellow brick road. Just inside the large hollow of the brick wall where even a car could pass, she and her companions saw an even stranger sight. A billboard of many words, a string of words... a poem. It was on a hill of dust, or immersed within the rubble of progress. Progress stunted in its growth. As Dorothy read, the others listened. They listened to hear of the concern spent in this arena. Concern for loss of words and the mind with which to speak them. A gesturing sign hung high above on a metal beam. It read:

THE WORD MAN

strips of words and letters

as wrought inside my mind,

are tucked into his inner soul...

his jacket did they line.

A scarecrow,

built of scrapped things

escarped surface shown...

The scarecrow...

man of little words

bespoken of the mind.

Produced the lines the women bore

erratic but sublime!

tackled like a tumble weed

amidst the taller shores,

the word man (he's a man of words)

sustains his everything.

A scarecrow,

built of anything

but integredation carries me

as far as his words comfort pleas

when desecration most profound...

hover round

the SCARECROW

...just watch him get down!

Dorothy read it feeling sorry for the individual it referred to. This word man... hidden from view. Hidden until now. He rested there in the lump of his existence. In the bag that he was, the residue of a man. He hung there on a post and beam below the sign. Hung there as seen someplace else in her distant memory. Hung alone and sobbing... "Chemical reactions... (sob)...y' give me those chemeecal-al reactions..." It was a scarecrow of a man, tall and thin, jacketed top... like blue linen, and bottom like some leftover dockers tossed out long ago, now tattered. Words blew from the white shirt... ragged from time and winds of his own environment. A red rope of a tie held him to his post. He was sallow looking in his face of paper shred. This scarecrow was muttering a tune about chemicals. "What's that?," Dorothy asked him. Leo spun the post around. "I get chemical reactions... you see, I get chemical reactions when I'm with you...," the scarecrow broke into another croon right where he was. They were reminded of tunes heard long ago someplace, those tunes of melodious blue funk rhythm. She had seen this before. She remembered as he sang about chemicals.. nature and environmental issues of life. Remembered a similar character in some show or past life environment... event. A bouncing rag clothed man stuffed with useless words. Useless words because without someone to listen... someone who cared to listen, his words fell upon deaf ears. This more current version of the "word man", a scarecrow of a thing, tall and thin, pale as almost any ghost out there was... was honking the same tune. Where the man was concerned with his own accomplishments before, this time the scarecrow seemed to be saying he was allergic to something. She listened a little more closely as he broke down sobbing, "...Oh uh oh uh ...chemical reactions - it's just those chem ee ca al reactions! ...There's all these chem e ca al reactions when I come due... Ah ooo ooo ooo! As he whipped his scrawny body around on the pole to which he was mounted, one arm came undone. The rope holding his wrist to the pole and his bagged and tattered body fell loose to the ground. She reasoned that he was trying to tell them that chemical reactions - in his body - or that in science, after all he was in what resembled a lab; was blocking him up. It was obviously a situation he preferred not to go through much longer. At the end of his performance on the pole, Dorothy spoke up. "So how can you get away from them? These chemical reactions?" When she spoke he jerked his head from surprise. It was as if he had forgotten someone was there. When he jerked, another rope fell loose and Leo reached over to clear those still binding him. He was free, unfettered. Turned loose to do whatever he needed so obviously to do. Still startled, he stumbled trying to stand. As he did he almost fell into the Tin Man, stopping just before bumping him face to face. When he turned to keep from bumping the tin man, he fell again; this time almost bumping Ted Leo. He stopped just as their eyes me. Trying once more to stand up straight, the Word Man staggered into Dorothy, almost knocking her over. He tried for what seemed like hours before he could stand on his own. Just as the tin man let out one more loud belch, the man of words staggered in his direction. As Tin Man belched, Word Man caught full scent of the odor created. It pulled all confusion out of the word man's mind. "Thanks for the ...uh, smelling salts fella... thanks a bunch." He stepped away from the tin man and back toward the center of the group leaning on the pole which had held him captive. "So long have I been in this environment.. this destruction, this attitude of abandonment... this nothingness of a world. So long have I been blocked into decay of society... the rot of progress... the immoral amplitude of existence. Too long have I suffered the inhalation of pollution. So long have I been so dis - abled," he took a deep sigh; "Too long have I paused here in the ruin of this DECAYED environment." His thoughts were good but incomplete. He got hung up on his own words, his own train of thought. Tin Man spoke up catching an ounce of courage since being put down so abruptly for belching. "Say you don't suppose those chem-e-cals can be used for anything, do ya?" He paused, wiping his hand over his mouth to make himself more presentable. "Those chem-e-cals you talk about, if they is... uh, if they was strong enough to cause your abrasion"... he bucked his eyes wide for emphasis, "...then uh... can't they get used to abraise somethin else?" Scarecrow jerked his head around again, this time to read the expression behind Tin Man's suggestion. "What do you mean?" Tin Man shifted his weight for a more demonstrable pose, "I uh... I mean, if they cause you... one person... thing ...so much interference, can't you use that? ...those interfered with?" He stopped for the scarecrow's response. Silence hung in the air between them. Not a sound could be heard for an extra five minutes while the idea was digested. They were unoblivious to the dark walls towering up and around them as they stood in the ruins of what had once housed a productive corporation. a corporate body... entire departments, personnel and payroll, production and shipping; the entire corporation was gone leaving the hollow three story structure in which they stood. In this abyss, they took time to focus, standing upon a mound of time raised soil which had supported the weight of the word man for too many years. They stood here below the broken windows, the crumbled rafters and leaking remainder of a roof, contemplating the idea of using chemical reactions to interfere with what needed interfering with. Leo spoke first, "Determined interference... now that could be something!" The scarecrow rubbed his chin with thumb and forefinger in thought before losing his balance and whirling to the ground below him, landing in a seated position with both legs crossed, "You... I see what you mean." He did not attempt to stand, rather he looked high up over his and their heads. He seemed to be looking for something. The entire corporation had deteriorated as had those in the area around it while he grappled for words, words to correct and bonify relationships and issues. The words which, if used in the proper tone and situation could well have procured... could have saved HIS and those who lingered around him a crisis as they now endured. "I am only a man of words. Stuffed full of conjoined letters that mean nothing especially because I have not exhibited the brain necessary to USE them to any benefit." He muttered to himself, but at a level for them to hear.

Before he could speak again, Dorothy culled him out of his disillusion of total failure, "You know... there really isn't anything here. There's nothing left here now... for anyone." They all looked around at the dark and dismal space inside the old corporate building. A ray of two of sunlight filtered through from the outside, but even that only highlighted the destruction of the society once held by the structure in which they stood. Dorothy continued, "There's nothing... no one here to hear or use your words. They won't do a bit of good unless there is a ... an audience; someone who wants to hear. Then maybe you can use your brain!" She paused. Tin Man spoke up, "Yeah man, you may as well go with us. No need to stand in the middle of all this nothing! I'm going to get the heart..." Leo cut him off. "...And I'm going to get the nerve for," Dorothy cut in, "Just come on along. I'm sure you'll feel better about yourself and maybe we can even help you get your words together." She looked pitifully at Leo and Tin Man. They were each already in a different frame of mind than when she had found them. They helped him to his feet. When they did, he joined them arm-in-arm as they returned to the yellow brick road. They traveled a distance sharing excerpts from their lives in explanation of why they needed the very items they were going to collect. Why the scarecrow was in need of a brain. Why the tin man was in desperation for a heart and what was driving Ted Leo after courage. Only Dorothy was after the intangible. She was looking for "home."

As she relayed her problem to the group, they each sought to comfort her as she had them. "Home is where the heart is..." "If you have the courage ... ANYTHING IS AVAILABLE!" "If you just think hard and long enough, wish upon it, it will happen for you!" Each one could see an easy solution to her problem. Each saw the simplicity of the answer for her, but not for themselves.

this is an excerpt of the book...

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