Dearest Rachel –
I almost missed it yesterday evening, until Daniel pointed it out to me: a single balloon languishing in the rafters of the church when we arrived for Sparks last night.
Of course, you might wonder how this sight would trigger a letter from me, and why I would use such a seemingly unconnected title to describe it. Well, let me see if I can’t explain it to your satisfaction.
As mentioned previously, Daniel and I attended the first of this past weekend’s Easter services on Saturday afternoon; in part to go to one less crowded, which we thought would be to your old friend’s advantage. This didn’t turn out to be the case, but no matter; we had put in our reservations, and were committed to go, because our campus gets so crowded that this sort of arrangement is necessary. It’s a good problem to have, sure, but there’s no denying that it’s still something of a problem, all the same. But let’s set that aside for the moment.
As we were headed out, we noticed that the little kids coming out of ‘Sunday’ school (can you call it that when it’s happening on Saturday? Well, no matter) were clutching helium balloons. I’m assuming these were distributed to them because… balloons rise? It’s a tenuous connection, as far as I can see, but it makes more sense than an egg-laying rabbit distributing candy, and that particular tradition isn’t going away any time soon, no matter how ridiculous it might be the more you think about it.
Of course, not all of them were able to hang onto them; some of them don’t have that kind of grip strength, while others seem to just forget what will happen if they let go of a lighter-than-air object. By the time we were leaving to catch our shuttle over to one of the remote parking areas where we left our car, we counted three separate balloons pushing against the ceiling, hoping to be freed from the limits thus imposed upon them. Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of caterwauling about having lost balloons; perhaps the children were promised a replacement by the volunteer staff, or informed by their parents that the Easter Bunny doesn’t give candy to children who aren’t well-behaved at church. If the latter, I suspect there was a little extra candy that would be distributed the next morning.
Regardless, Daniel and I were observing this, and wondering aloud as to how many more balloons would be stuck on the ceiling by the time the Easter weekend was over. There was to be another service that evening, and four more on Sunday morning; at the rate indicated by this particular service (which, I should mention, was not a packed house in comparison to the ones to come) it would be expected that there should be about twenty balloons stuck up there by Sunday afternoon – and, given the difficulty in getting them down from some twenty feet up, they would still be up there as of Monday evening for us to count and confirm.
Now, while neither of us were much for gambling, this is one of those weird little observations that you and I would put a friendly little wager on, you might remember. We would, were we so inclined, stake out opposite positions on the over/under – presumably whether there would be more or fewer than the mathematically indicated eighteen in total – and once we had the opportunity to confirm which of us was right, the other would have to perform the task requested by the other. In my case, I was to give you an extended backrub as my payout – I forget the amount of time involved, but it was essentially until you were satisfied with my work. Likewise with yourself, although since your hands and wrists weren’t strong enough to work the kinks out of my back, another task was usually part of your bet. Both of these, obviously, were to be collected later, as opposed to on-the-spot, it should be made clear.
Which is a little odd, as both activities were fairly regular parts of our interactions with each other anyway; and it wasn’t as if either of us built up a tally of how much the other owed us in terms of gambling debts. The payoff was pleasant enough (and honestly, it was gratifying to ‘pay up’ in its own way, since the satisfied reaction from the other was proof that we were doing a good job – I’d like to think you thought the same about your task; I think I remember you saying as much more than once), but I think we just liked being right about our guesses.
Obviously, I don’t make those kind of wagers with Daniel; at least, not with those kind of stakes. The biggest bet had to do with one of the predictions of his prophets or pundits, where he mentioned a certain governor was to be ousted before the end of either his term or that particular year. Since his office was all but inherited from his famous father – and his younger brother was in the media running cover for him – I thought that improbable, and offered him a certain amount of shares of stock if he turned out to be right. Lo and behold, he was – and I made good on my end of the bargain accordingly; however (and this is from an external perspective, as said individual doesn’t govern our state), his replacement hasn’t appeared to be much of an improvement. As a result, Daniel hasn’t made such claims since; although I’m not sure it’s because no such claims have been brought to him, or that he’s come to the realization that ousting one person might result in no real improvement in the final summation. So I consider it something of a win all the same.
But neither of us thought to make a wager on the results of Saturday’s observation – and I wouldn’t have even thought about it, had Daniel not pointed it out to me last night as we came in. Now, I don’t know what numbers we would have placed our money on, but I can guarantee you that neither of us would have expected there to be fewer balloons up there by Monday than there had been as of Saturday afternoon. So I don’t know if either of us could have been considered to have ‘won’ this wager, regardless of the stakes.
Anyway, I hope that explains this little bit of reminiscence (and why I might miss it so). For now, I’d ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. Not that I need it for any bets or anything, but just in general.
Letters to Rachel 