Chapter 6
Mutt and Jeff, a.k.a., Dumb and Dumber, rattled up to the dismal weather-beaten farmhouse in the Poconos. Their contemplative captive bounced bruisingly around in the back of the van, groaning in a mildly merciful half-sleep reverie. The team of more than klutzy kidnappers opened the door of the van and dragged out the lanky somnolent body from the vehicle. They had no intent to cause pain, but were also far from gentle. Their mindlessness seemed to cover every aspect of their behavior, including the way they were treating their captive. They could learn much from the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, who teaches and writes about the art of mindfulness—awareness of life as we move through it. Walking meditations, breathing meditations, and a philosophy of life that sees all as sacred make life more meaningful for the monk’s many followers throughout the world. Thich Nhat Hanh lives in France, in exile from his country of origin, but believes that wherever we are is home if we come to terms with our true self and the world around us.
Mutt had his hands under the armpits of their hostage and Jeff held the slim bony ankles of the young man. They climbed a few wooden steps made out of partially-rotted wood and opened a rickety screen door, then pushed open a heavier misaligned front door. The three moved through a living room, a place that would embarrass a thrift shop. The furnishings looked like something from an “early Halloween” motif, with rugs and slipcovers from the “one size fits all” rack. Everything was ancient, moldy, and in decay.
They went into what had probably once been a study or den on the first floor of the house, and laid the body on the floor in accord with their version of gently. There was an old threadbare rug on the scarred hardwood flooring whose colors were long since faded. Two bright new silver chains were bolted into the plaster and horsehair wall. Mutt took the end of one chain and looped it around the ankle of their victim and padlocked it in place. He did the same with the other chain on the other ankle of the stupefied young man. The chains were loose enough on the ankles so that blood could circulate, but not so loose that the chains could be removed. The room, which had now become a prison cell, also contained a makeshift shower and bathroom. It appeared that this luxury was recently and hastily created with plywood and junk materials. The chains which, were secured into the wall and connected to the ankles of the young man, were long enough for him to move around in the room and get to the facilities, but not long enough for him to leave the room itself.
“Wow, this is great. You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” chattered Jeff in an excited manner.
“Of course I did, what do you take me for?” Their ego games and put downs were the horsehair holding the plaster of their relationship together.
The team of jailers stood up and left the room, closing the door behind them with a thud. They were both badly out of shape and feeling the strain of their recent exertion. Mutt asked Jeff to guard their prisoner. “We need to take turns. There’ll be times when neither of us can be here, but let’s try to have one or the other of us here whenever possible. I’ll go back to the family now and spend the night. I’ll go to church with them in the morning and make up some excuse to leave later, and then I’ll come back here to relieve you. How’s that?”
Jeff, always hungry, thought for a few minutes. “Sounds okay to me. Make sure that you bring me some food. We don’t have much here.”
Meanwhile, in the next room: One of my favorite hymns is “How can I keep from singing?” The song that’s going through my head right now is “How can I keep from spinning?” A whirling slide show of colorful sunsets, crackling campfires, gurgling water, bumpy roads, harsh voices, and black and blue marks filled his mind and reminded his body that he still was very alive.
The young monk struggled to orient himself to time and place. He remained confident in the teaching of the English anchoress from the middle ages, Julian of Norwich. She taught at the height of the plague that took most of her family and friends, and almost got her also, that all would be well.