Heavenly Beauty in a Beauty Pageant

Silence. Thoughts of how they might much better, much more effectively "be there" in a humble, non-intrusive way. No one should be arrogant. No one should act superior. We are just infinitesimally tiny specks in this incredibly vast universe. Yet, unless mentally defective—among those who can bring out God's work in the rest of us, helping us to learn compassion and deep love and for whom he has blessings in store—we are thinking specks, Blaise Pascal's fragile, thinking reeds. Winds of varying force and duration may blow us this way and that but we can spring back. We can think about things, think things through. And God is there to help us, to lift us up. He has given us uplifting things on every side for our blessing, delight, joy, edification, and progress. Carpe mark

! Seize these things! (Appreciation for the macron over accusative plural res goes to Rachel, our Latin expert and consultant.)

On returning to the Blue Danube that night (walking all the way, mainly along McCulloch Blvd.), Lalo and Liese received a call from the police station informing them that the Taurus had been found abandoned. No trace of the driver. No leads to his identity. No evidence that there had been hi-tech tracking equipment in the vehicle. That technician, Flash, might have been able to find some. The number of the license plate didn't match the one given by the detainee and, of course, it was a Ford Taurus, not an Oldsmobile. A dead end from a prosecutorial standpoint, it seemed, but the license and vehicle numbers could and would be traced. The undocumented subject booked as Gustav Zuckmeyer had been interrogated. Other than identifying himself as an Austrian citizen, he withheld all other information regarding himself and his activities. A prosecuting attorney was preparing charges against him.

Laura called to say that hers and Linda's families had gone to work at the cabin and made great progress toward putting things back in order and cleaning up. When would they be coming home? Their plan was to leave early in the morning and drive straight through. They couldn't wait to see everyone again. His Darling Preciousness was climbing up everywhere, getting into everything. Everyone was well.

So off Liese and Lalo went the next morning, this time on to Barstow, Bakersfield and home. What an adventure one little unaspirated [p] had brought them! Articulated by an as yet mysterious person. They hoped that "Snow" would show up soon—in a less lethal manner than Trottel and his accomplice.

Hey, wait a minute. Wasn't today the day Pérez would be officially retired? Were these pseudo-synesthetic phonetic transcriptions going to continue to pop up uninvited the rest of his life? Well, as for long as he had a restless subconscious probably.

At least the surface meaning was immediately evident: Javert. Who didn't know the implacable inspecteur? Lalo had read a condensed version of Les Misérables in high school, later read it entire in English and, in graduate school, in French. With its adaptation as the popular musical Les Mis, few did not know the name of the author, Victor Hugo, as well as the names of major and minor characters: Jean Valjean, Javert, Cosette, Marius, Enjolras, Gavroche, Eponine....

Ach, sein grosses Ehrenwort! (Oh, his great word of honor!) Did this suggest that someone as relentless as Javert was after him? For how long? Years and years? A Hispanic Javert? My, oh, my. He could think of nothing he could do. In this context, his motto "Let it happen" was altogether risible. There was no ris for him in this allusion to Mis, that was for sure! Most likely, some serious mizery! Please, let it not happen. Code name Javert. Provisionally there would be a Javert. They had gone through enough already over the past few days. This biz with Snow or whoever was not something to laugh away.

(No, you haven't caught Pérez on this one. Just add whoever it was and you will see that we are dealing with a subject here. Nominative case. Not that "whomever" gives a hoot, Lalo supposes. He hopes you know when he's pulling your hair—Spanish for pulling your leg: tomar el pelo a uno.)

Ya verás, eso sí, cuando pruebes tú las mieles del amor.

This Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle could drive a guy loco! The mere mention of Javert makes him sing aloud a line from a popular old Mexican song. A Mexican song, and he was singing it with a Buenos Aires accent. A nice little song about ¡Qué bonito, qué bonito es el amor! (How pretty, how pretty is love! You will see, you surely will, when you taste the honeys of love.)

"What was that all about, Honey?"

"Oh, you know how my mind rambles so disconnectedly. Actually, I wasn't thinking Mexico. I was thinking in French. About Les Mis. How would it be if Alice sang a number from Les Mis for her performance?

"I think that would be fine, except that Les Mis has been so popular for so long now, vielleicht—perhaps—it would be best to sing something totally different, unique, for these non-beauty pageants."

"Right, these are scholarship pageants. But let's concede that contestants' beauty may influence the judges' decisions somewhat."

"Oh, yes, could be. But how can beauty be evaluated and rated. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, how can it possibly be objectively quantified or qualified?"

"I believe that cultural and even economic factors enter into this. Traditionally, however, anthropologists have tended to look at beauty as culturally defined."

"Economic factors? The ability to acquire fancy clothing, cosmetics, perfumes, jewelry, etc.?"

"No, not exactly in that sense, though those things obviously have their importance. Think back to our first visit to El Prado in Madrid, one of the world's great museums. What did we seem to see acres of as we entered its portals for the first time?"

"Oh, sure, yards and yards of pinkish flesh. Plump cherubs and buxom women. A dramatic contrast with models of today who appear to be in the final stages of anorexia. But how does economics enter into this?"

"In part with the Black Death—with plagues like the one memorialized by the Pestsäule in Vienna—the pilar to a pestilence. Remember our trip south from Venice all the way to southern Italy, through Florence, Rome, Naples, Pompei, Sorrento, and on to Paestum on our honeymoon?

Pestsäule

One of my favorite slides of you is the one I captioned 'Ode on a Grecian Urn,' in which you are holding up an authentic Doric one excavated shortly before our visit.

As you know, Paestum—originally Poseidonia and renamed when the Romans took over—was an ancient Greek colony in southern Italy founded about 650 B.C. and abandoned after most of its inhabitants were destroyed by malaria in approximately 877 A.D.; hence our English word pest, German Pest, Spanish, Italian, French peste, etc.

"Sand from the shores of the Tyrrhenian Sea on which it was located plus dust from other directions completely buried it in the course of centuries. The story goes that a peasant plowing on the site uncovered an ancient relic. Archaeologists came in and uncovered the temple of Hera (also known as the Basilica), the temple of Poseidon (the oldest, best preserved, most beautiful Doric temple in existence today), and an amphitheater, ruins of a forum, and places of business, etc."

Temple of Hera (the Basilica)

"I remember well how amazed we were to think that these impressive structures had been so completely covered up that eventually their exact or even approximate location was unknown. That glorious sunny day, soft breezes blowing off the Tyrrhenian Sea, we were the only tourists there. How things have changed!" exclaimed Anneliese.

"Have they ever!" agreed Eduardo. "But the Greeks set standards of beauty in sculpture and architecture that have endured to our day. The Pestsäule reflects this to some extent, but tells a very different story. Not of serenity, structured to achieve a golden mean, but writhing images of agony and death that defy every sense of moderation. It commemorates a terrible epidemic that came to an end in 1679. The Black Death, however, was many times worse. In the 14th century a plague spread across Asia, continental Europe and Great Britain with such virulence that it changed the course of human history forever. Bells stopped tolling for the dead. There were so many that hardly one survivor was left to pull the bell rope. Cathedrals and other buildings under construction stood as skeletons—no laborers left to continue work on them. A third of the world died according to a medieval chronicler."

(For more information, see http://insecta-inspecta.com/fleas/bdeath/, a truly outstanding website. Click on the image of a rat with its fleas and bacteria to follow the course of the bubonic Black Death as it spread throughout the affected lands.) This great presentation has changed location several times. Can't find it? Just type in "black death" for your browser and you'll probably locate it.

"Was it any wonder that in the aftermath of such a horrible plague those with meat on their bones would be considered enviably beautiful? As the Pestsäule testifies, there were additional plagues and calamities, causing plump people to be envied and admired for ages. Some women, I suppose, secretly admire and applaud this today, given the excess of emaciated models paraded as the standard for contemporary beauty."

"Well, how about you? You always say that my Viennese delicacies are making you fat! Where is all the fat going? To your head?"

"Ahem. Touch it. Caress it, if you wish. Do you feel any meat?"

"Hmmm. You're a little cheeky, right here, but yes, you're right. What I feel is bone. Yes, it may definitely be said that in this sense you are not a meathead... or fathead. A bone head, perhaps?"

"Think of that in French. Mentally spell it "B-O-N-N-E" and you will edge right up to the truth. A good head. That's what I've got on me. Une bonne tête. Et qui plus est—and moreover—I am quite obviously, clearly, not a meathead. You—I will never tire of saying it—are just right in this and all respects. A standard of beauty for all ages, cultures and climes."

"Qu'est-ce-que tu désires, mon cher Edouard?"

"Je te le donne en trois."

"Three guesses? Half a guess and I've guessed it."

"Always an ulterior motive behind our most sincere, honest, disinterested comments!"

"Anterior, I would say. First and foremost."

"But not forward. I was never forward. Too dazzled, struck too dumb....mute, that is.... for that. I loved you so! So truly that in my love, desiring only the very best for you, I had deep doubts about being anywhere near the best. Far from it. How could an older peasant aspire to be a prince, to beg in matrimony the hand of a young princess? Seeing in your eyes the glory of the stars, how could I, so terrestrial, aspire to the celestial?"

"Well, Eduart, you'll never be a poet, but there is a little raw material there. That is what I saw in you. Material. Really raw!"

Then—a smile in her eyes—she quickly removed her right hand from the steering wheel and extended it toward him with her fingers clenched against the palm and the thumb pointing upward, which she moved up and down in the Argentine gesture of 'Don't believe it.'

"But I discerned possibilities. Now maybe we could try to discern how differing concepts of beauty might effect Alice's tryout for the Miss California scholarship pageant."

"O.K., but first let it be known that I definitely wasn't a Cyrano de Bergerac. Not at all! Not one bit! I wished only the very best for you, for sure, but I wasn't about to help anyone else win your love. Besides, I have a quite passable nose."

"No, we never mention that word," sang Anneliese.

"Fortunately Alice has Laura's nose—your nose—which gives her a great 'scholarship' advantage right off. Tell me, what do you know about the two dominant contemporary theories regarding beauty?"

"Enough to know that you want to endlessly tell me all about them."

"Even women like you, who have no need at all for artificial additives like cosmetics and jewelry, know about the first one, according to which beauty is culturally defined. In our culture, for example, the stereotypically desirable shape for a nose is exactly yours. Not too many have it, so what might they try to do about it?"

"Well, they might try nose jobs or else attempt by the skillful use of cosmetics to accent or de-accent one feature or another."

"Right on the nose! Score that girl a 7 on that. A Chilean 7, I mean—the highest score on a scale of 7. The equivalent of a 10 or an A+ on other evaluations used here and there in schools around the world. Your nose is so ideally shaped for our culture that it definitely needs no nose jewel or ring to draw attention to it, like some truly ugly noses that are foisted on us in this way.

"But some cultures go well beyond cosmetics and what we think of as jewelry," Eduardo continued. "In some of them, lips are a "bigger" deal than noses. In these cultures my lips would be admirably 'full,' not 'fat'—though perhaps not quite right. Fondness for big lips is carried to an amazing extreme in certain tribal cultures of Africa—Senegalese and Niger, I think. Disks are placed in a girl's lower lip when she is quite young and replaced with ever larger ones until her lower lip protrudes phenomenally. To be truly beautiful, it is often theorized, form should follow function or not depart too far from it. These enormous disk-embedded lips would appear to hinder the function of easily ingesting food."

"Do you remember that documentary we saw on TV of an Amazon tribe that has the practice of inserting wooden pegs in the flesh below the lips to form what, to us, are utterly grotesque extensions of the chin? Both sexes of all ages go in for this "beautification" of their body. Individuals are free to choose their pegs, some of which measure a foot or more in length."

"They're so grotesque to us, you want to reach out and touch one to certify that they really do this. Whoa, man! A Hispanic like me with a knowledge of Spanish literature back to El Cid Campeador and beyond has to be aware of the fact that the gravest insult in the book for anyone of Spanish blood was for someone to touch your beard. It could mean a duel to the death. These natives, however, appeared to be too docile and friendly for anything like that, and nobody seemed to worry about being pegged higher or lower than anyone else.

"The pegs seem ready-made, I'd say, for reaching out and touching someone. Or could it be, in a Marshall McLuhan "extensions of man" context, that they're used for pointing? Pointing someone out with your finger is extremely rude in some societies of Latin America. Instead you point with your chin, your lips pushed up and out. To gringos this can appear rather imprecise. With long pegs like that you could point with greater precision but at the risk of getting a big crick in the neck or falling over backward."

"O.K., Lalo, don't poke fun of other cultures. But I had a strictly feminine impulse: To cut a groove in the peg of that big muscular guy. You know how women like cleft chins. Cary Grant's for example."

"The question arises whether that is characteristic of our culture only. Would a cleft chin repel someone from a different society? A very enlightening, funny, commentary on cultural differences is found in the movie The Gods Must Be Crazy. Do you remember the coke bottle that was carelessly dropped from a light plane and how the old tribesman was taking it to the edge of the world to drop it off so it would no longer disrupt the natural course of things?"

"Aber natürlich! Of course! Who could ever forget him or that very special film? I suppose you're referring to the gorgeous blonde that he looked at curiously for maybe one second before his expression turned to one of pity and then revulsion. She was the first white woman he had ever seen and it appeared to him that the poor ill-favored creature was deathly ill, perhaps of a fearsome contagious disease.

"I love that movie! Beautiful blonde that I may be thought to be, I nonetheless realized that beauty truly is relative to a large extent, though the film also made it dramatically clear—at least to me—that beauty is more than skin deep—whatever the color, the body build or the culture. Goodness and good-will was reflected in the countenances of all those who had it. Hmmm. So this means that beauty is in our skin, but to be truly so, it has to come from deep deep down. Ach so, ganz richtig, mein Liebchen! Dame un poroto. [Yes, indeed, exactly right, my darling! Gimme a bean. (Chalk one up for me.)]

"The same was true of the baddies. Their badness was very plainly evidenced in their facial features—overdone almost to the point of caricature. It's a comedy and satire, after all.

"I tell you in all sincerity, Lalo, that I would much rather be very plain looking and have my features express virtue, kindness, and understanding than be the most ravishing woman on earth and reflect the frivolous, vain, witless, banal, shallow, blasé inner life of a made-up mannequin. Mannequin? Femmequin!

"Ah hates wah as much as Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Eleanor said they did, but, you know, it was thanks to what we suffered in WorldWar II—the destruction, the danger, the fear, the separation from loved ones, their suffering and death—that obliged us to harbor deeper thoughts of life and death, of the meaning of our existence and what we should seek from it and give."

Eduardo, singing.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear;

|: No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.:|

Lyrics and music by Thomas Moore, 1779-1852

"That is the kind of beauty Alice has, Eduardo. She has suffered because of her alopecia, but with good humor, understanding, and forgiveness. She's been tempted to retort with jibes at those who are thoughtless and rude, but instead she answers back gently, politely, and with good humor. Not long ago an alopecian friend of hers was rudely asked if she was wearing a wig. The alopecian answered back, 'Are you wearing a wonder bra?'"

"Cough, cough. Ahem. You women can tell, I guess, but to me Alice's wigs are so natural looking that I think nothing of it. I love how she can change her hair style so simply and easily. Ah, ah! I know, this is a man's view! I'm sure it's not all that easy, but I love the different looks she can favor us with, each exactly her in different ways. I can hardly remember Alice's natural hair color. On the blonde side, wasn't it?"

"It was a light brown. A lovely light brown. Her hair was so fine and smooth and soft!"

"There's a lot more that can be added to a discussion of concepts of beauty. One notion circulating now is that beauty is an 'average,' an amalgamation, so to speak of features deemed beautiful. This idealized image, bred into us, say these evolutionists, has been driving propagation of the species! Good looks have rewarded reproductive winners and lousy looks have 'killed off'—that's a direct quotation— any progeny for losers! So we have the survival, not of the fittest, but of the good lookingest? What a laugh! If only the most beautiful women (and the most handsome men) could find it in themselves to mate, how come all this pulchritude wasn't passed on more generously? And how were good looks assessed before evolution thoughtfully created this amalgamated image?

"Looking around at the Merkun People, Anneliese, I'd say that just about all of us somehow manage to hook up, whatever our looks or the image of beauty we carry around in our DNA. As for men.... What is the only thing they are said to have on their minds? Or somewhere.... So no matter how you look at it, the idea that only fractionally greater good looks—then or now—are what determine propagation winners ought to be laughed out of town. Strike that! ....Ought to be carefully analyzed.... I could sense, Analisita, that you were about to ask whether I went to school in Vaucluse."

"No way. Your French is far from being that good."

"Women are more selective, these same experts say. A woman has to be sure the guy is a good provider, steady and reliable, etc., and therefore in general women are much more choosy. So a good provider could win out over a good-looker? Well sure, if a woman could find one like that and her looks were good enough to interest him, if we are to believe these theorists. Might she not in reality have to settle for a third, fourth, or nth choice? It's the same with choosy men.... though not too many societies, it seems, are truly monogamous, so.... someone may eventually get their seventh choice and wish they'd stayed with the sixth. Harems complicate matters, too. The sheiks corral all the good-lookers but somehow less favored ones manage to propagate too.

"The proponents of this idea have produced computer-generated composites and had them rated. The composites digitally average the features of 16 or 32 subjects which are then feminized by taking out masculine features like jutting jaws and beetling brows to produce the 'ideal,' so adjudged by a small poll accurate to who knows how many decimal points. So.... so sorry to break this news to you, Liese, precious, but according to this, you (an ideal beauty) are just an average. An approximation to an average. Pobrecita. Poor thing!"

"If that notion is correct, how come there are so few 'average' people?"

"You're right, apparently there aren't, but the composites they come up with almost sway me into their way of thinking. Both you and Alice fit the composite perfectly! What about that? Their notion may make perfect sense after all. I didn't know any of this when your average beauty hit me in the eyes back at the Universität zu Wien and felled me like.... like a.... like I'd been hit by a sledge hammer. You're right, there's not much poetry in me."

"So are you suggesting that this—any of this—might have a practical application relating to Alice's scholarship tryout?"

"Not at all. You and Alice need nothing. It's the cosmetics makers, nose jobbers, etc. who will have to come up with ways to artificially imitate or suggest your averageness."

"Well, now, how nice! I don't want you making one single suggestion to Alice, then. Lots of good it would do you anyway. She's as strong-minded and strong-willed as her mother."

"Who got it from....?"

"From a woman of the most extraordinary average beauty.... and intelligence!"

"After all this theorizing, the fact remains that beauty is not an exclusivity of anyone. Love can light up anyone's face and life. 'A face only a mother could love,' they say. Not true ever, it is to be hoped, but the key to this is right there. If, through her love, a mother can love a face, so can we all. The sad thing is that one way or another, through ridicule, the influence of the media, thoughtlessness and unfounded prejudices, some persons are thought not to fit the mold. The result: low self-esteem and discouragement. But all such should lift up their heads. God loves them. Loves us.

"Whatever our looks, we must all struggle one way or another. The evening of my entrance to a reception center on induction into the Army, a World War I veteran led our group in the singing of songs intended to buck up young inductees who for the most part were away from home for the first time in their lives. I remember some lines from an old British World War I favorite that he taught us. I'll sing a line of it to you:

"'So chin up, Tommy Atkins, be a stout fellow, chin up, cheerio, carry on!' British soldiers had been called 'Tommies' (from a poem by Rudyard Kipling) for over a century and Tommy Atkins was supposed to epitomize them.

"Let's keep our chins and spirits up and be stout girls and fellows when confronted by the indifference and the disdain of others who for some unreasonable reason don't like our looks. (Our stout looks?) You know the expression in Spanish, Me cae gordo—he comes across 'thick' to me—more or less the equivalent of' 'I don't like his looks or the way he is.' Well, love me, love my dog!... Love me, love my doggoned looks!

"We may be responsible for our phiz after a certain age, as asserted by Abraham Lincoln, but no one should jump to unwarranted conclusions. All faces are different to begin with and not all faces face the tests of time equally. Who can know all that has shaped each one? At the last day we'll be judged by our works, not our looks. But anyone who feels 'looks-challenged' may be assured that if our attitude and behavior are good, we will have a fine, wholesome look about us—no matter what the average, style, fashion, stereotype, media projection, or theory may be."

With that, Lalo burst into song.

Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
Mademoiselle from Armentières,
She hasn't been kissed for forty years,
Hinky-dinky parlez-vous.

Oh, Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
She got the palm and the croix de guerre,
For washin' soldiers' underwear,
Hinky-dinky parlez-vous.

The colonel got the Croix de Guerre, parlez-vous?
The colonel got the Croix de Guerre, parlez-vous?
The colonel got the Croix de Guerre,
The son-of-a-gun was never there!
Hinky-dinky parlez-vous.

Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, parlez-vous?
Mademoiselle from Armentières,
She hasn't been kissed for forty years,
Hinky-dinky parlez-vous.

"We appreciated that old guy with all our hearts.... that he would come up there every night to cheer us up. We didn't understand half of any of the songs and had no idea what "parly voo," "kwa d'ger" and "palm" meant or where "Arm 'n teers" was, but they were all rousing good tunes and we loved them. That old veteran was 'there' when we needed him. A volunteer, giving freely and gladly of his time.

"O.K., Anneliese, the last part of what I've been saying has had to do mainly with guys. What about gals?"

Anneliese (singing):

Goodnight my someone, goodnight my love,
Sleep tight my someone, sleep tight my love,
Our star is shining its brightest light,
For goodnight my love, for goodnight.

Sweet dreams be yours dear, if dreams there be,
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me,
I wish they may and I wish they might,
Now goodnight my someone, goodnight.

True love can be whispered from heart to heart,
When lovers are parted they say.
But I must depend on a wish and a star
As long as my heart doesn't know who you are.

Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
I wish they may and I wish they might.
Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight.

Goodnight! Goodnight!

Buy the video of The Music Man. It will be one of your most prized possessions. Buy My Fair Lady. Buy many beautiful things to put in your storeroom, your treasure, and take them out often, for yourself, and to share with others

Anneliese thought that her voice wasn't all that good, but this is one area in our lives where the intent, the desire, the depth and power of purpose, the spirit, can be as important as the technical quality of the actual execution—theoretically and in fact. As a boy, Eduardo knew an old-timer who loved to sing the old-time songs of his day. His singing voice was mediocre, but he had lived what he was singing and that made all the difference.

"Dreaming sweet dreams may be a small consolation or comfort on Earth here below when we want blessings right now.... but though they may be deferred, the blessings will come in God's time. He loves us. If we are good and true, he will reward us so deeply, fully, and greatly that our rejoicing will blot out all former disappointments and woes. We will be aware of this and feel this on earth, here and now. Quoting from 1 Corinthians 2:9, 'Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him.'

"One final thought: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it is said. True enough, but if deep-down beauty—not just skin-deep—is invisible to us, and ugly, dirty, perverted things are beautiful to us, then we are in serious need of an I-check! That's I, not e-y-e. One more final thought, a woman's prerogative: Horses, considered by some not the brightest of beasts, don't seem to learn that locoweed is bad for them. Very bad! We humans are supposed to be of a vastly higher order of intelligence. Humpf! The idle, foolish, vain, disgusting, noxious things we all seem too prone to take into ourselves are far more harmful to us, on a much greater order of magnitude, than locoweed."

"Right, Liese Anne, and livestock poisoning by locoweed is the most widespread toxic plant problem in the western U.S. and Canada, costing millions of dollars both in livestock loss and in the cost of plant control. Despite the unpleasant effects of locoweed poisoning, many animals still become habituated to eating it, further fueling their intoxication by the plant. Some people are far dumber than horses, smoking marihuana, sniffing cocaine, inhaling crack, smoking tobacco and opium, imbibing alcohol, eating nothing but junk food.... The list is a long one."

"And these substances affect us in many ways that are more harmful than the physical effects. The worst thing imaginable is to be a slave to a drug, to a bad habit. Simon Legree (from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe), prototypically the most vicious overseer of slaves ever, was a cardboard caricature compared to slave-driving substances and habits. And what harms and kills our body is far less poisonous and deadly to us than the evil thoughts, attitudes and actions that destroy our minds and spirits."

Anneliese had been driving endlessly, it seemed, on cruise control, and Eduardo offered to drive the rest of the way home. No, she was fine, she enjoyed driving that big motor home. "The Iron Lady," Eduardo called her, borrowing the cognomen bestowed on Margaret Thatcher. Anneliese could drive hour after hour. Liese Tiese (teaser), didn't tease Lalo this time about his slow reflexes.... she claimed. Actually, he didn't mind at all having a chauffeur.... Like a big potentate or capitalist, he could read, write in his notebook, even think, if he was up to it. And he could admire the scenery more fully this way.

Anneliese was indeed a helpmeet to him. A help meet for him. From Old English, mæte, signifying fitting, suitable, proper; not to be confused with mate, as in helpmate, from Old English mad-, meaning food, which evolved to mate and then to meat—still meaning food, and then to meat meaning flesh. A helpmate (helpfood) was someone who shared meals. Anneliese made and shared delicious, nutritious ones—a super helpmate. Companion is a similar term. From Latin cum (with) and panis (bread): One who eats or shares bread with someone else. Anneliese is so companionable!

Lalo has just become aware of a dereliction. For several pages now he has not been a proper etymological helpmeet to you until just now. Sorry, mates!

Occasionally Eduardo would be a helpfood to Anneliese and make a beautiful golden tortilla (torteezha) Argentine style—an omelette made with potatoes, onion, and egg. Always with olive oil. Averse to peeling potatoes since Army days, he substitutes French fries crisp and hot from a drive-in, cut to short lengths, added to the onions, and fried till soft (al dente). Then, having seasoned the egg batter just right, he pours it in and forks it evenly around. After one side is done, the trick is to put a lid on the pan, turn it over so the tortilla comes out onto the lid, put the pan back on the stove, slide the tortilla back in, and brown it to golden perfection on the other side. Then, WOW! A perfect tortilla de oro. A golden tortilla. A speedy tortilla. No KP duty for Lalo! In basic training in the Army, KP meant "Kitchen Patrol" and it seemed to consist more often of peeling potatoes than anything else. No one escaped from it but "goldbrickers" (shirkers and loafers)—geniuses at avoiding work like Sgt. Klinger in M*A*S*H.

Another speciality is his Rancho Eggos, in reality a speedy kind of egg foo yong. Use your best leftovers (especially rice and gravy), at least one egg per person, hard noodles, potato chips (from the bottom of the bag or crush some), soy sauce (La Choy), medium or hot chili sauce (to taste), grated cheese (Parmesan is excellent) and lettuce, chopped up fairly fine. If there is no leftover gravy, make some with a turkey, chicken or beef mix. If you have water chestnuts or other oriental additives, very good! Add a surprise ingredient occasionally; for example, chopped pecans, for added crunch and exquisite flavor. Chopped hazel nuts (filberts) are just as good or better. Have a guessing game, a challenge to be first to identify a secret ingredient that imparts a new taste thrill. Thrills that cause Lalo to say "Down, boys! Down!" to his taste buds... Rancho eggos get them so excited! Lalo knows he is omitting lots of possibilities. Hard to recall all the great stuff that he's found in the fridge to add to the pan. Rancho eggos are never the same twice in a row. An ADVENTURE every time. Oh, what a helpmate Lalo is! Everyone clamors for rancho eggos.

Eduardo put etymology and food out of his mind as Anneliese shared thoughts with him on Alice's tryout—now only a few days away. She was sure everything was going fine but regretted missing any part of it. Alice would have filled out all the forms by now, of course, listing her parents' names and her level of education and, as a platform issue, Arts and Education. Scholastic goal: To complete her liberal arts degree in Humanities and go on to graduate work in Foreign Languages, Theater and Dance. Talent presentation: Vocal. Scholastic Honors: high school valedictorian, Sterling Scholar in Foreign Languages, academic scholarship, honors program, dean's list. Other accomplishments: president of Spanish Club, Hope of America award, study abroad in Chile, Habitat for Humanity volunteer, literacy tutor. Employment: Free lance translator and interpreter at police court....

Home at last, they found all in order at the cabin. The newspapers and mail—mostly of the junk variety—had been taken inside. Two bouquets of flowers welcomed them, with loving notes and instructions to call Laura and Linda immediately on arrival. This they did, putting through calls to Paul, Lou Jean, Lisa, and Cynthia too. Paul announced that he had been voted chairman of the Foreign Language Department—unanimously, the first time this had ever happened. His appointment would be automatic now and there would be a welcome raise in salary. Somehow (so important, truly significant!) he had managed to push through a name change. His department is now the Department of Foreign Languages and Cultures!

The next day Eduardo called the Lake Havasu City Police Department. What was the score with Zuckmeyer? Would he and Anneliese be required to testify? Well, sorry to have to tell you this, but Zuckmeyer's attorney managed to have bail set at $25,000. It was prompty paid and Zuckmeyer disappeared. Nothing had turned up with respect to the abandoned car and the suspected accomplice.

"Hmmmm. Hmmmmm. What if....? Hmmmm," muttered Pérez to himself. "Had Plumpi, a.k.a. Zuckmeyer overheard or somehow got word that Flash had made off with the supercomputer? Could be. The suspected third accomplice who ransacked the cabin definitely had not found what he was looking for. Mysterious stuff, but all three must have been after Onkel Hobart Hallstein's papers. There was no other possibility, it seemed. All three apparently had given up and were no longer a threat.

Having come to this conclusion, Eduardo walked outside, went to the Jeep, opened the glove compartment, took out the large plastic envelope in which he kept the maintenance manual, receipts and other vehicle documents, and removed Hallstein's carefully folded papers—concealed among them. He knew full well that he should have placed them in a safety deposit box, but hadn't wanted them out of his possession. How long had he been under surveillance? No way to know. Their banking and finances were handled over the internet and they had never entered the local bank. How could the perps have known about the super computer? Without doubt someone had entered the motor home at least once and the wireless keyboard would be clue enough to someone in the know. Moreover, they had mentioned the super computer more than once after the installation of the bug.

Whether or not they had been after his encryption secrets was moot. Probably not, however, so that was that. He had no other loot worth such persistent searches and pursuits. He shoved the papers back into the envelope and put it back. As safe there as anywhere—so unsafe a place it was safe—it would appear.

He then sat at the G5 in the motor home, accessed a browser and typed in "synthetic diamonds." There were a number of listings. The only one in California was

. Psi, he assumed, referred to the symbol for pressure—pounds per square inch—and Di was an abbreviation for Diamond. Sounded like the name of a fraternity. Well, Pérez won't go into the details of his negotiations because this is a book about alopecia and beauty pageants (Correction: scholarship pageants), but he finally struck a deal with PsiDi. It appeared that Hallstein had made some discoveries and developed some processes that were worth looking into, including a way to remove flaws from natural diamonds to make them marketable as gems. A percentage of any profits derived from utilization of Hallstein's findings would go to Anneliese and Eduardo and he would arrange for his share to go to a non-profit organization dedicated to combating illiteracy. So two of Pérez's prayers appeared to have been heard: 1) Safely disposing of Onkel Hobart's papers and 2) finding a source of financing for interim and definitive solutions to the English literacy crisis (illiteracy, if you prefer). Two big Psi~s... He means sighs.... of relief.

Turning to another problem, Pérez entered a claim with his insurance agent, appending copies of the police report and witnesses' statements. London Bridge officials in Lake Havasu City, Arizona, would send an assessment of damages and an itemized list detailing the estimated cost of repairs. After checking the liability coverage, the agent assured Pérez that the damages would be fully covered. Another high pressure Psi—many pounds per square inch—of relief.

Other sighs would now come mostly from Laura, Alice and Linda. Sighs of uncertainty, satisfaction and contentment as they prepared for the local pageant. Sighs of surrender, too, from Laura and Linda. It was their role as mothers to know best, but Alice, dear sweet Alice—as sweet as Eduardo's favorite song for her—sweetly overruled any number of their suggestions with that sweet little mind of her own.

Du bist wie eine Blume

Du bist wie eine Blume
So hold und schön und rein,
Ich schau' dich an
Und Wehmut schleicht mir ins Herz hinein.

Mir ist, als ob ich die Hände
Aufs Haupt dir legen sollt',
|:Betend, daß Gott dich erhalte
So rein und schön und hold.:|

You are like a flower
So lovely, fair and pure;
I look at you
And deep wonder slips into my heart.

It's as though I ought to place
My hands upon your head
|:Praying God to keep you ever
So lovely, fair and pure.:|

Lyrics by Heinrich Heine. Translation by Eduardo Pérez. Music by at least 14 major composers. This version by Franz Liszt.

Never present during the preparations, Pérez had only a vague notion of what transpired. He did know that Alice was too respectful and kind to offend. If she got her way, it would be in the sweetest of ways. Not even a strong-willed Viennese would feel hurt.... for long. Pérez does wish he could have been included in some of the discussions. He had even thumbed through a few of Anneliese's fashion magazines in order to learn enough to participate a little. Always a teacher, he feels compelled to share this learning with male readers. We men should make an effort to be somewhat conversant with things of paramount interest to the fairer sex. It can't hurt.... he thinks. You feminine readers, just maintain your composure and don't snicker out loud if Pérez makes a small booboo or two.

He was surprised right off to discover that there are different sleeve styles and that they have names—a fascinating fact that he was unaware of. This is going to be a little test. Match the styles with the drawings; Dolman sleeve ( ); Bell sleeve ( ); Puff sleeve ( ); Puff sleeve, top ( ); Raglan sleeve—armholes match up with bodice ( ); Bishops sleeve ( ); Tight sleeve ( ).

These drawings are crude representations of the styles on fashion pages which display a lovely variety of fabrics, colors, and treatments in full color. Pérez has exaggerated certain features just a wee bit to make the test easier for you men. The answers will not be given here. Get a knowledgeable member of the fairer sex to score this for you, fellows. A non-giggly one, if possible. Now listen up, men! The first chance you get, notice what your wife is wearing and make a bright comment about the sleeves. "Oh, that is the most darling little Dolman!" for example. (If Pérez remembers correctly, that is the one that came out looking like an anteater. Sorry! He didn't mean to confuse you. Do not, repeat, do not say, "the cutest little anteater sleeve.")

Another topic he came across—of particular interest, given Alice's alopecia—was hair styling. "A hairstyle from a magazine doesn't work," an article said, "because you are looking at a style designed for a face shape that is not yours. A style that looks dazzling on a triangular face may look hideous on someone with a heart-shaped one. A style that's cute on someone else can make you look 6" shorter and 30 lbs. heavier!" The article stated further that you should not listen to yourself, relatives, any man, or anyone who lives with you, but only to close friends, stylish women and your hairstylist. So that leaves out the male hairstylists that one sometimes hears cutting remarks about. Huh? Maybe your stylist....? A competent man?

Pérez has always heard, and it must be true: Women do not spend all that money fixing up and dressing up for men.... It's to impress each other.

They say that men aren't observant.... And yet somehow men get enticed. It's an amazing world we live in.

So what should a girl ask when deciding on a do? Número uno (Number one): Will you be honest with me? Then, assuming that the response has been affirmative: What would you say is my face shape, my strongest facial feature, my weakest face feature, my skin tone? What color best describes my eyes? Am I warm or cool? Should my hair style be longer or shorter? It soon becomes quite clear that this is no simple matter. It is obviously both a science and an art and magic and money.

A word of advice to you women: Keep in mind that it is a woman who is asking "Will you be honest with me?" Temper your honesty with a modicum of caution.

Even more to the point—with regard to Alice's situation—was an item about "How do I keep my wig from coming off?" Double-sided adhesive tape was rated as comfortable and very secure, allowing for daily removal of a wig. A semi-liquid adhesive in tape form called "transpore tape" could hold a wig in place from three to five days. Clips could be employed by those who had sufficient hair for them to hold on to. (Obviously out of the question for Alice.) Liquid adhesive—stronger than tape—lasts up to five days without removal. Additional methods require the existence of a little hair or are very complicated and time-consuming. Lalo just hoped that whatever Alice used, it would hold her wig securely on her head so that she would not be embarrassed in front of all those people.

This next part is designed to educate men in the intricacies of neckline treatments so that, fully acquainted with them, there will be absolutely no need or excuse from then on for their eyes to wander. This means out of the corner of the eye and fleeting accidental eyeing too! Take note of the following, you men. All of these treatments are billed as alluring, but get this! There is no intent to allure you! This should be perfectly obvious. Hmmmm. Well.... Define perfectly obvious.

Size is not a factor here; i.e., the same model for all; the same shoulder, neck and..... etc. Match the names and letters.

Bateau ( ) Portrait ( ) Sabrina ( ) Decolletage ( ) Halter ( ) Illusion ( ) Jewel ( ) Keyhole ( ) Queen Anne ( ) Scoop ( ) Square ( ) Sweetheart ( )

Answers: Bateau (c) Portrait (b) Sabrina (h) Decolletage (a) Halter (d) Illusion (all) Jewel (g) Keyhole (i) Queen Anne (j) Scoop (f) Square (e) Sweetheart or Queen Anne (j). Note: Illusion is any style that is covered with transparent netting. Translation for men: The illusion, oh dreamer, is in your eyes, not the netting. Avert your gaze immediately, allowing the illusion to be of modesty.

Scoring: All men who guess (e) correctly score B+. Any man who gets Decolletage receives a passing grade in French. Men who guess more than three correctly have some explaining to do.

Nota bene: Pérez drew these pale imitations the best he could from patterns—not enticing photos. Just patterns. Lines on paper. Outlines a seamstress would understand. He trusts that the pattern people knew what they were doing and thus exculpates himself from all errors save those that any non-seamstress male might make.

Eduardo is going to make a wild guess: Sweet Alice's (blue?) gown will have a Sabrina neckline.

There are, of course, many additional intricacies, including skirt widths, skirt lengths, waistlines and silhouettes. These require much greater competence to adequately portray than Pérez possesses. He will confess to one thing. There is a skirt width called bouffant. From its appearance and from a bouffant hairdo he once saw, he jumped to the conclusion that this French word had to be a cognate of Italian boffone and Spanish bufón, both of which mean buffoon or clown. He insists that the hairdo, especially, looked clownish, but double-checking, he discovered that bouffant comes from the French verb bouffer (to puff out). So when you see a bouffant hairdo, sleeve or skirt, forget that you ever heard this erroneous analysis and take care not to laugh. Admire them!

Pérez erroneously took bouffant and boffone to be true cognates. You non-speakers of Spanish, have a go at translating these false ones: librería, colegio, embarazada, parientes, actual, éxito. For non-speakers of German: Gift, Kind, Hose, bald, Mist, Boot. For French: assister, seize, gentil, merci, main, raisin.

Answers: librería = bookstore (library is biblioteca), colegio = school (college is facultad; faculty is profesorado), embarazada = pregnant (embarrassed is avergonzado), parientes = relatives (parents are padres), actual = present/current (actual is verdadero), éxito = success (exit is salida). For non-speakers of German: Gift = poison (gift is Geschenk), Kind = child (kind is gut/freundlich), Hose = (pair of) trousers (garden hose is Gartenslauch), bald = soon (bald is kahl), Mist = manure (mist is leichte Nebel), Boot = boat (boot is Stiefel). For French: assister = to attend a meeting, etc. (assist is aider), seize = sixteen (seize is saisir), gentil = nice/kind (gentle is doux), merci = thank you (mercy is miséricorde), main = hand (main is principal), raisin = grape (raisin is raisin sec).

False cognates (often called false friends) can cause a considerable amount of confusion; as can false translations. Eduardo remembers how in Argentina, grasping for something to say to his hostess, a young American, came out with "Señora, su gato es muy podrido." He meant to say "Ma'am your cat is very spoiled," but what he actually said was "your cat's very putrid." (A cognate, as you can see, and not a false one. Both podrido and putrid ultimately go back to Latin putridus. The young friend should have said mimado.)

With Alice's tryout coming up, Pérez found it impossible to concentrate on his linguistic projects or other things, so he turned to the above painstaking research— related to the pageant to some extent at least. Well, the local tryouts would soon be getting underway, so it might be well to check out some first-hand information about them gleaned from the internet. Each candidate is represented on the Miss California website and provides her own info.

Names and other data have been omitted from what follows to protect these earnest young scholars from the off-chance that someone might think that they are contestants in a beauty pageant. The photos deliberately are not reproduced on these pages. Otherwise, scoffers might attempt to suggest that something other than scholarship exudes from their every pore. You will have to agree, judging by their accomplishments and goals, that these young ladies definitely are not "beautiful but dumb." That leaves beautiful and bright. What's wrong with that combo? If you've got it, flaunt it. A brain, that is.... And talent. Well, show off both, but not egotistically.

At this stage there were about 33 contestants, state-wide. Their names were interesting and possibly revealing to a numerologist or nomenologist determined to demonstrate the effect a name has on one's self-perception and the way one is perceived by others. Claims are made that names affect personality, health, personal relations, and personal and business success. Changing your name or altering the spelling is a serious step, it is maintained. There is something to that, no doubt, or else why did Norma Jeane Dougherty get a name change to Marilyn Monroe? To Norma Jean could be added others, some easy to guess, others not. Try these easy ones:

(1) Marie Magdalene Dietrich von Losch (2) Edda Hepburn van Heemstra (3) Burl Icle Ivanhoe (4) Samuel Clemens (5) Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone (6) Dino Paul Corcetti (7) Dorothy Faye Dunaway (8) Mary Farrah Leni Fawcatt.

Answers: (1) Marlene Dietrich (2), Audry Hepburn (3) Burl Ives (4) Mark Twain (5) Madonna (6) Dean Martin (7) Faye Dunaway (8) Farrah Faucett.

These you have to know. Guessing would be futile: (1) Henry John Deutschendorf (2) Reginald Dwight (3) Steveland J. Morris (4) Allen Steward Konigsberg (5) Julia Elizabeth Wells (6) Betty Joan Perske (7) Alexander Archibald Leach (8) Diane Belmont.

Answers: (1) John Denver (2) Elton John (3) Stevie Wonder (4) Woody Allen (5) Julie Andrews (6) Lauren Bacall (7) Cary Grant (8) Lucille Ball.

Well, these are celebrities, but other people change their names too—possibly by using an initial plus their middle name; perhaps initializing both. Often a nickname is preferred to the extent that few even know the real name. Think of Magic Johnson, Babe Didrickson, Jackie Kennedy, Dizzy Gillespie as only a very few examples. Speedy González was only a cartoon character, wasn't he? Does any other González out there lay claim to the name? How about Elian González's name? Do you know that his parents combined their names (Elizabet and Juan) to come up with it? A great name and a very photogenic, extremely bright and likeable child. Pérez bets that before long there will be lots of Elians all over the place—and not just Hispanic ones. Poor little Elian the Alien. Let's hope and pray that he is blessed with freedom here and now or else together with every single Cuban in the very near future. Adiós, Fidel! Adiós! Ya era hora! Long, long past time you were outa there!

Names move in and out of fashion. Currently, according to several listings, the following rate highest for baby girls: Emily, Samantha, Madison, Ashley, Sarah, Hannah, Jessica, Alyssa, Alexis, Kayla, Abigail, Taylor, Elizabeth. Baby boys: Michael, Jacob, Matthew, Christopher, Joshua, Austin, Tyler, Nicholas, Andrew, Joseph, Daniel, Ryan. If your name is not here, try another list a month or a year from now.

Now look at the names of some scholarship pageant constestants from various states: Marlena, Sherilyn, Venus, Nichole, Erryn, Fayola, Krystn, Jamila, Janell, Andrea, Kendra, La Shana, Robin, Jennifer, Alyson, Emily, Angela, Natalie Jean, Rashell Lynn, Danyelle Kathleen, Valerie Cecilia, Michelle Ann, Narjani, Cindy Michelle, Kristina, Liana, Cheryl, Teleza, Stephanie, Kelly, Marisa, Nancy, Beverly, Allison, Rita, Bridget. Most of the surnames were of British origin but there were also Hispanic, Dutch, German, Irish, Native American, Chinese, Arabic, African and Cambodian ones. More exhaustive research undoubtedly would reveal many other non-English first names and surnames. Do these names tell us anything? Perhaps only that the parents wanted special names for their darlings and therefore selected very nice ones or some fairly uncommon ones.

Talent listings for Alice's tryout included vocal, operatic vocal, baton, dramatic monologue, jazz vocal, patriotic vocal, show vocal, Tae Kwon Do, pop vocal, tap dance, classical ballet, ballet, piano, classical piano, ballet en pointe, martial arts, Indian culture dance, Chinese/Vietnamese ribbon dance.

Some platform topics: Helping Children with Special Needs, Brain Injury Education, Child Abuse Awareness, Domestic Violence, Drug Prevention among Pre-Teens, Girl Scouts - Where Girls Grow Strong, Breast Cancer, Arts Education for Youth, Mentoring Children of Poverty, Academic Mentor Program, Promoting Health Care for our Children, Putting Your Children First, Family Focus, Successful Transition of Foster Youth, Empowering Youth through Mentoring, Abstinence, Reduction of Teen-age Pregnancy, Arts Education Outreach, Voting 101, The Importance of Donating Blood, Promoting the Health and Welfare of Impoverished Children, Youth Outreach, Arts in Education, Building Strong Communities, Promoting Involvement in the Arts, KISSES (Kids Involved In School Sports Excel and Succeed), HIV/AIDS Education, Eating Disorders, M.E.G. (Motivate, Educate, Graduate), Keeping Public Lands Open and Accessible, Eating Disorders and Negative Body Images, Motivating At-Risk Students to Succeed, Understanding and Appreciation of the Disabled.

Aren't you impressed? These are lovely, wonderful young ladies. You esteemed readers realize, Pérez hopes, that his teasing about "scholarship" not "beauty" pageants was all tongue-in-cheek. He continues to insist, however, that everyone is beautiful to some one. How unbearably tragic, if this sometimes is not so. But every single one of us is loved of God and beautiful to him always when we turn to him. Let's turn to him always!

Another item on the fact sheets is Career Ambition. Some samples: Dance critic or choreographer. Finish law school and become a legal correspondent for a national network. Do something I love and get paid for it. Pediatrician with my own non-profit community medical clinic emphasizing health care for impoverished children. To perform with an opera company and eventually open my own design company. Elementary school teacher and administrator. Public relations or television news reporter/anchor. Theater and film actress. Working with and mentoring children of poverty locally and throughout the world. Teacher/missionary in an underprivileged country. Professional vocalist and music instructor. Have my own international trading business. Dentist. Journalism or advertising. Attorney for FBI. Complete medical school and specialize in pediatrics, surgery or OB-GYN. International business marketing. Advocate for foster youth. News anchor or magazine editor. Establish my own institute of performing arts.

The question had to do with careers. It may be understood, perhaps, that most if not all also want to be dearly beloved wives and mothers.

The final category on the fact sheets is FUN FACTS (up to three items). A very small sampling of these: Teaches dance to preschoolers. Has perfect pitch! Turned down a piano scholarship to accept a tennis scholarship. Published poet. Won the Junior Chemist award in high school. Proud to be a born again Christian. A ham who loves to be on stage. World traveler. A black belt in karate for 7 years. Fluent in Cantonese. Has traveled to former Soviet Union, England and Italy. State and national twirling champion. Wrote a one-woman show. Dancer and singer for Christian music videos and children's albums. Has accumulated over 1,600 hours of community service volunteer time.

These are all very impressive young ladies. Talented. Dedicated. Involved. When the time comes, Alice will show that she has these three qualities and more. The time is coming.... The time has come.

"Anneliese, where did you get those this time of year?"

"Oh, you observant man! I only have them in my rock garden and in half a dozen pots around the house! They propagate easily from seeds, you know.... O.K., O.K., they won't bloom till late in May, so I ordered these for Alice from a florist. Go ahead, smell them!"

"Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff! I don't smell a thing!"

"Oh, Eduart! You can't smell and on top of that you can't see! They're artificial! I couldn't think of anything nicer to give Alice before she heads off for the college campus and her interview."

"Well, they look so much like the real thing! Amazing what they can do nowadays. But how come they don't add a little drop of perfume to make them totally indistinguishable from the real thing?"

"It wouldn't take very much at all. We Alpine people love Edelweiss blossoms not exactly for their very subtle scent but because they symbolize purity to us. And inaccessibility. It's so delightful in summertime to scramble up the rocky slopes and find them growing in crevices. Before Hitler embroiled us in war, that was one of our favorite things."

"All the while singing Edelweiss,

Photo of Edelweiss

Anneliese, singing:

Edelweiß, Edelweiß,
Du grüßt mich jeden Morgen,
Sehe ich dich,
Freue ich mich,
Und vergeß meine Sorgen.

Schmücke das Heimatland,
Schön und weiß,
Blühest wie die Sterne.
Edelweiß, Edelweiß,
Ach, ich hab dich so gerne.

Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Every morning you greet me,
Small and white,
Clean and bright,
You look happy to meet me.

Blossom of snow,
May you bloom and grow,
Bloom and grow forever.
Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Bless my homeland forever.

Rodgers and Hammerstein's beautiful song from The Sound of Music. Not many of those who love this movie and this song are familiar with the German lyrics so they are included here. Sing along in both English and German, accompanied by this elaborate German version .

So the moment had finally arrived. Anneliese and Eduardo hurried over to Laura's to see Alice off. There were 16 contestants, six more than usual, so it would be a long day. The first item on the agenda was a personal interview, accounting for 30% of the total score. The same judges would interview each candidate, assuring as nearly as possible that the judging would be uniform and impartial. The interviews would relate to contestants' educational and career goals, their opinions on current events and social issues, and their interests, hobbies and extracurricular activities. Scoring would be based on overall communication skills, emotional control, personal appearance, etc.

The personal interviews, of course, were not open to the public. Laura and Donald would drive Alice over to campus before the scheduled time for hers. The judges would take notes on evaluation sheets and arrive at a total score at the end of each interview. No scores would be released at the end of each event—only the final verdict after the last competition. Each local pageant could schedule the public events in the order they desired. For this competition, "physical fitness in swimsuit" (15%) would come first, then "on-stage personality in evening wear," (15%) and finally the talent presentations (40%). The first two events would go rather rapidly as the contestants briefly paraded their physical fitness and evening wear personalities. The grand finale, of course, with vocal and instrumental music, dancing, acting, twirling, Tae Kwon Do, etc. would take longer.

As Donald reported later, Lamont and his mother were there at the campus waiting when they arrived with Alice. Lamont would stay there every minute. His mother, Thedda, together with Laura, wanted to make one last inspection of Alice's gown with it on her. It was then that Eduardo learned for the first time that Thedda was an expert seamstress. She had found all kinds of patterns from which Alice and Laura and Anneliese could choose. (The last two names are listed as a matter of courtesy.) So it was Thedda who had made the gown which all those who had been left completely out of the picture couldn't wait to see. "Well, great!" Eduardo muttered to himself. "Thedda could have written up all the stuff about sleeves, etc. and spared me that arduous, exhausting effort!" Now he just hoped he could get her to describe the swim suits and evening wear for him. Otherwise, he would just have to do his pitiful best, eliciting a certain quizzical reaction from male readers and titters from female ones.

"Hmmmm. Hmmmmm. What if....? Hmmmm," murmured Eduardo. Could it be that something serious was developing between Alice and Lamont? His mother was even in on the act. Hmmmmm. Could the mother have passed review already? He would have heard from Anneliese if she hadn't. The two must be hitting it off O.K. But I haven't even seen this Lamont! If Anneliese has, then he must be at least marginal or better."

Lalo had such a bad case of fidgets waiting for the 6:00 p.m. commencement of the "physical fitness in swimsuit" event to start that the only thing that saved him was to play with His Darling Preciousness. "They Shall Not Pass!" was good for a while. His DP no longer just touched him with the tip of a finger, however, but gave him a real shove with plenty of playful energy behind it.

There ought to be a law. Why do little children have to grow up so quickly? So inexorably? Why do adorable infants have to turn into people? Like the beloved lullaby says, "One of these mornin's you's gonna rise up singin'; then you'll spread your wings and take to the sky...."

Summertime

Summertime
And the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high.
Oh yo' daddy's rich
An' yo' mama's good lookin'
So hush, little baby,
Don't you cry.

One of these mornin's,
You's gonna rise up singin';
Then you'll spread yo' wings
An' take to the sky.
But till that mornin',
There's nothin' can harm you
With Daddy an' Mommy
Standin' by.

George & Ira Gershwin, Heyward DuBose—from "Porgy and Bess."

Dozens of midis available on the web. Try this anonymous rendition: sumrtime.mid.

Well, there's no stoppin' 'em, that's for sure, and there's no greater joy than watching them grow and progress at each stage of their lives. They'll grow strong, beautiful, and good with daddy 'n mommy and all around them standin' by to help, guide, encourage, and set good examples for them.

It seemed only yesterday that Alice was a little fledgling in Lalo's arms as he sang this very song to her. Now she had already spread her wings and was exploring ever-widening worlds. And now she was about to walk down the runway in a swim suit. Oh, how the swimsuits and the competition had changed since Lalo was young. You might say that back then women's swim suits were more swim sacks than suits, leaving much to the imagination. In the early pageants, the swim sack competition was actually held at the beach! Efforts had been made by feminists and others to ban the swimsuit competition but it was still in. The contestants could pick their own suits (only thongs were banned) and could decide whether to wear shoes or go barefoot.

As beautiful, talented and scholarly as they were, Anneliese and Laura would never have contemplated entering one of these "scholarship" pageants, which were altogether too much like 4H livestock shows for them. Their modesty steered them clear of any such thing. However, scholarship definitely is part of the competition and all funds gathered by the non-profit organization are applied to scholarships. The admission fees of $15. each for this evening's preliminary pageant would be devoted to that purpose.

So why was third-generation Alice participating? Times had changed. The small amount of data given above is a clear indication that these girls are truly talented and intelligent as well as beautiful. But above all, knowing that—though deaf—Heather Whitestone McCallum of Alabama, had been crowned Miss America in 1955, Alice thought to herself, "Well, I don't know for sure whether Heather's hearing loss was total or not, but in any event it was no handicap to her at all in winning the crown. Maybe I can demonstrate in a small way that alopecians can also make their way in life just like her, facing any challenge, overcoming any difficulty." Alice's support groups had been so helpful and encouraging to her over so many years, that she felt this would be a fitting way to pay back that support, demonstrating how a "baldy" can seek to excel and achieve on a level with anyone else. Knowing her as he did, Lalo was certain that there was no great ego involvement here, only the spirit to do her best at everything she undertook to do.

Lalo wondered whether anyone would even realize that Alice was wearing a wig, they are so well-made and natural-looking now. He hadn't mentioned this to anyone, but he had driven the motor home to the pageant with one purpose only in mind: There would be some who passed by, at least, who would immediately understand that "Miss Universe Alice" stood for Miss Univeralis, and he wanted to show his support for Alice in this way. After all, he had coined the title for her when she was just a little girl as an expression of his support and love and admiration and he would proudly park it now where most people passing by would see it. The MISS UNIVERSE ALICE decal in front had required some touching up and the sheet metal had been straightened out as well as possible pending the arrival of replacement parts. The decal in the rear was still in mint condition except for you know what.

Having arrived quite early, therefore, he took a seat down front and watched as others began to file in. He had been told that most of the audience would consist of relatives and friends, though the pageant had been well advertized. Inasmuch as there were 16 contestants, that alone could translate into a fair-sized crowd. The extended Pérez family itself and their friends added up to several dozen. Many of them soon were there, sitting around Lalo, getting good seats. Anneliese, Laura and Thedda undoubtedly were still with Alice but soon would be joining them.

Have you ever felt an intense gaze on your head? "What will science do next?" Eduardo jokingly says every time some insignificant, relentlessly marketed gadget is invented. Well, science ought to investigate this. He has experienced it many times in his life and many others have cited the same thing. Keeping up a line of chatter with Cynthia, who had flown there with her family, Ed cautiously began to look about him, as though surveying the crowd in a general way no más (no more). He had to force his gaze away from a Hispanic-looking, rather slender man with intense dark eyes, careful to let his eyes dwell there no longer than on others. He was certain he didn't know the man and yet those eyes (synesthetically speaking) somehow rang a bell. With a sort of nerve-jarring clang.

Cynthia was recalling at that moment how her Stacia, when a tiny little girl, would triumphantly say "I deed eet" whenever she succeeded in accomplishing something difficult for a child her age. Where that Spanish accent came from, Lalo had no idea. "Well," Cynthia said, "however this comes out, Alice will indeed be entitled to say 'I deed eet!' She is a wonderful girl!" Lost in reminiscences like this, Lalo forgot all about the Hispanic. Lots and lots of them in California, mostly of Mexican origin like him. Spanish, too—in his case. Just ask doña Josefina. How Lalo wishes at this moment that he could! She would be so proud of her great-granddaughter!

Anneliese finally left the dressing room area and came to sit by Eduardo. "A couple of the contestants know about Alice's alopecia," she whispered, "and are keeping very mum about it. They're afraid that if it becomes known it will get Alice some sympathy votes." Ed started to protest the injustice of this, but just then the lights dimmed and the audience quieted down. The long awaited event was about to get underway. "The way wom.... the way people talk, more of those who are here tonight probably know about Alice's alopecia than those calculating contestants suppose," he whispered back.

The public part of the pageant commenced promptly at 6:00 p.m. The mistress of ceremonies spoke a welcome, explained briefly the objectives of the scholarship pageant and adroitly sought to deflect criticisms that displaying oneself in a swimsuit is an odd way to earn a college scholarship by asserting that we should not be ashamed of our bodies, that classical Greek ideals of beauty that glorify the human form are part of our cultural heritage, that swimming is a healthful, exhilarating sport. She further, indirectly and humorously, inferred that excess fabric should not hinder good form and movement, and that brains and beauty can go together in a way admired by all. She was both charming and forceful in her argumentation, but Pérez felt that she would have served her cause better by not bringing it up at all. After all, billing an activity as a "scholarship" competition could elicit certain academic expectations, yet everyone knew full well that a young mathematical genius with thick thighs, knobby knees, buck-teeth, cross-eyes, or any other non-mental "blemish" had no chance whatsoever of competing.

One after another, to suitably sensual strains provided by the college string ensemble, the sixteen scholarship candidates gracefully made their sinuous way down the runway. It seemed to Eduardo that none of the other "physical fitness in swim suit" candidates would stand a chance against Miss Tae Kwon Do and Miss Black Belt in Karate for 7 years. He tried to identify the two without success. Of course! It finally dawned on him that, not bulging biceps but swiftness, accuracy and timing, were the badge of martial arts champions.

None of the young ladies wore a thong, as it was against the rules, but the physical fitness of every contestant but one was more than adequately and exquisitely exhibited in all the expected places. As later explained to him by Thedda, although Alice was clearly wearing a suit that would hamper neither breaststroke, freestyle, backstroke, nor butterfly styles of swimming, she in effect was wearing a singlet style dress designed for the beach, the street, or as lounge wear. It looked like a swim suit to Lalo—a very modest one—but he had to defer judgment to Thedda, the seamstress. Well, sure, neither dress nor skirt infer a thing about length in today's world, save those worn by female news anchors—which are always kept no shorter than nine-tenths of the way up the thigh in order to ensure that nothing distracts viewers from their vital reporting. That Alice's swim suit.... er, swim wear.... did not hug her form near the junction of her legs and other junctures, might be one way of expressing this.

The audience had been requested to withhold applause until all had walked the walk, but to no avail. Eduardo may have been reading something into the audience's reaction, but in all truthfulness, perhaps because of the novelty of modesty, Alice seemed to him to have received more than an equal share of clapping and cheering. And whistling.

The "personality in evening dress" competition followed shortly thereafter. Though he is no authority, of course, it nonetheless appeared to Eduardo that if the evening dresses on view did not come from one of the haute couture houses of Paris, they nonetheless had cost a pretty penny. The dresses were gorgeous, exuding personality from every stitch and thread. Dazzled by all that personality, what more could Eduardo say? Only that Alice's threads alone equally apportioned modish and modest. Thedda obviously could thread a needle like no one else! Not the mercantile type but, yes, adventurous, Lalo began to envision a "dot com" internet business—theddathredz.com—and an IPO (Initial Public Offering) that would bring in loads of venture capital. Not really! The thought was only an expression of enthusiasm and admiration for Thedda's talent.

Pérez has no pretensions of prescience, but Thedda did confirm that Sabrina was the neckline chosen for Alice's gown. "The Sabrina," she explained, "begins two inches inside the shoulder and extends straight across the front."

Valuable information, men. The next time you see a Sabrina on the one you adore, be sure to let her know that you know this and have noticed. If the adored one evinces surprise or astonishment, explain that Eduardo Alberto Pérez Salazar, Ph.D., feels that any attainable knowledge of girl talk and skill in its use is of great significance in establishing and maintaining maximal relationships with Girlphones—those who imbue with vitality, vivacity and virtuosity the talk of all known -phones, be they Francophones (speakers of French), Anglophones (speakers of English), Kashmiriphones, Hmongphones, Bantuphones, or any -phones whatsoever, and should be gratefully and appreciatively recognized as the ultimate mothers of our tongues. If the adored ones scoff, remind them how peaceful and wonderful this world would be if we all spoke each other's language. No, no, no! This does not imply that they should copy base, low, demeaning elements of certain masculine talk. No. Let them remain forever high above us in this and all respects. Let us men do our best to emulate them in this.

The personality radiated in this event was of such high wattage that the audience ignored all admonishments to withhold applause. It was Pérez's unbiased impression that once again Alice's modish modesty had hit the highest decibels on the applause meter. Once again. Possibly for the sheer novelty of modest, decorous dress and demeanor.

During a brief intermission, the string ensemble played while the stage was rearranged for the talent event. The audience chatted excitedly away in anticipation of outstanding vocal, instrumental and dramatic presentations and announcement of the regional winner, who would go on to the Miss California Scholarship Pageant scheduled for June. While others availed themselves of the opportunity for a restroom break, Eduardo stretched his legs by walking outside and checking out the motor home. All was in order, exactly as before. Walking to the rear, he poked the dots over each I in the MISS UNIVERSE ALICE decal with his right index finger. Anneliese and Eduardo intended to leave them there as nice little souvenirs of a harrowing experience. The aluminum sheet metal would require no anti-rust treatment.

The order in which the contestants appeared in each event was varied each time, apparently in a random fashion that would favor no one. Every performance was excellent. A few could almost be labeled formidable, a term used in Spanish and French to express terrific, tremendous. As one number followed another, Eduardo wondered what Alice had decided to sing. It would be a surprise to everyone except Lamont, who would accompany her. As much as he admired her, Ed wondered how she could possibly top the top performances so far. He knew for a certainty that she would put her all into it, not just for herself but for alopecians everywhere. But who, other than a few unusually observant women, would even suspect that the lovely hair on her head was not her own? Would Alice nervously finger the wig to assure herself that it was exactly in place? He was probably a lot more nervous about this and her presentation in general than Alice was herself.

Like other men, Eduardo only occasionally has to force his concentration to the fore, but somehow he had let it lag, so at the moment he was asking himself, Were the contestants appearing for "talent" attired in the same garb as for "personality in evening dress"? Amazingly, he had no idea. Miss Tae Kwon Do was unlikely to perform in evening dress, right?, but for the life of him he could not remember in what. Well, yes. Quite likely she had switched her presentation from Tae Kwon Do to something like hip-hop dancing, whatever that is. Or can you do hip-hop in evening dress? Knowledgeable, vibrant, and dynamic, Emeritus Professor Dr. Eduardo Alberto Pérez Salazar might well be, yet there was still a little trivia out there with which he was uninformed.

Trivia is a great word etymologically speaking. It comes from Latin tri (three) and via (road); i.e., a junction where travelers came together and engaged in unimportant chatter. A fine bit of trivia which Eduardo just throws out to you.

What had Pérez in a quandary was this: Would Alice be attired the same for talent as for personality in evening wear? Would two outfits be deemed too expensive or might this simply be considered an uncalled-for expense? Would it be an expenditure that Donald and Laura could ill afford? Anneliese could have quashed his quandary with one word, but it seemed unmanly to him to make manifest one trivial instance of inattention. Of one thing he was fairly sure: Alice had been dressed in white for the dressed-up personality check.

No. 15 did a tap dance with great style and vigor. No. 16 would be Alice! There she is! She steps on stage, accompanied by Lamont, who goes to the piano. Lamont in a tux, Alice, so schön und rein und hold, angelically lovely, pure, and fair in her personality in evening dress gown.... Well, she was dressed in white, anyway.

A lyrical phrase of music presented itself to Eduardo's mind: "In the beauty of the lilies...." Madonna lilies, a variety with pure white flowers. The phrase was germane. Alice glowed with a light from within, as though transfigured by the luminance of the Gospel, the Good News announcing a Savior for mankind.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me....

(From The Battle Hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe / William Steffe.

Phosphorescently white photons appeared to be flooding inversely from Alice to the spotlight as the audience gazed in rapt attention. In a soft clear voice, her head slightly inclined, her eyes remaining fixed as though on each member of the audience, she expressed in assured serenity these words: "Every day of my life since early childhood.... Not just at Christmas time.... I have expressed gratitude in word and song for my divine Redeemer. From the depth of my soul I proffer to you a carol from France, Cantique de Noël, so glorious it might have been composed for angels."

Lamont struck a few introductory chords and Alice sang like an angel on an assignment to Earth.

Minuit, Chrétiens, c'est l'heure solennelle
Où l'homme Dieu descendit jusqu'à nous,
Pour effacer la tache originelle,
Et de son père arréter le couroux.
Le monde entier tressaille d'espérance
A cette nuit qui lui donne un sauveur!
Peuple à genoux! Attends ta délivrance!
Noël! Noël! Voici le Rédempteur!
Noël! Noël! Voici le Rédempteur!

O Holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder beams a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine! O night when Christ was born!
O night divine! O night, O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here came the wise men from the Orient land.
The King of Kings lay in a lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our need, to our weakness no stranger.
Behold your King! before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! before him lowly bend!

Truly he taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord, then ever, ever praise we
His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim,
His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim.

(The words by Placide Clappeau, in 1847; the music by Adolphe-Charles Adam (1803-1856). Translated to English by John Sullivan Dwight (1812-1893).

A hush had fallen over those assembled. They seemed uncertain whether applause was allowed—as though in some inapprehensible way they had been transported to a sanctuary. Then two tiny hands broke the spell. His Darling Preciousness had learned how to give high-fives ( ^{5 5}) and also to clap his little hands in approval. He clearly approved. The audience, too, and the applause rose to a crescendo.

As the decibels dropped down, Alice bowed softly in appreciation, extending her arms gently outward and clasping her hands above her heart as her graceful curtsy came to its close. Then she raised them and touched her hair—to those who knew, as if checking whether her wig was securely there. Then, abruptly removing it with her left hand, she swept it forward and down in one elastic, lissome motion. As it attained the nadir of its arc, she let it fall to the floor and fluidly came erect again, her arms stretched outward and upward, her face turned heavenward, her eyes reverently closed in an attitude of gratitude and adoration. A moment only, and then she brought her fingers softly to her lips and extended them outward in a kiss.

Utter stillness as the audience took in the fact that lovely Alice was bald. Then two little hands again broke the silence. Seized by wonder at what they had witnessed, so unanticipated in this setting, enthralled by the thrilling words and notes of the carol echoing yet in their ears, others joined in with hands and voices, and like a wave at a football game, section by section, all rose to their feet in a thunderous standing ovation.

The initial round of applause might have been adjudged above average. But when Alice removed what was false from her head, sudden, empathetic, appreciative love for her found expression in overwhelming, heartfelt acclaim.

"An allegory as clear as a clarion call," Eduardo murmured. Synesthesia had seized his senses as never before, and visual, aural, tactile, olfactory, gustatory, 6th, 7th and nth sensory faculties all commingled and resonated in his soul in one grand, never experienced before amen.

Two hands met and squeezed tightly as Liese and Lalo looked through tear-glistening eyes into two hearts that were one. Anneliese's soul as well as his own, Eduardo knew, had been enlarged by the grandeur of one same indivisibly shared grand amen.

Chapter Ten

Table of Contents

Index