Grampy Lash

I recently read a book, The Golden Compass, a fantasy novel that included many characters known as daimons. Virtually every human character in the story had an accompanying daimon, with a name, that took on the form of some animal that more or less represented the personality of its human.  When the human was young, the form of the daimon would change to reflect the mood or emotional state of its human at any given time.  One moment it could be a delicate butterfly fluttering about its human, turn into a bold eagle soaring high above in warm windy updrafts, then into a snarling cat, crouched and ready to strike with its claws bared, then back into the butterfly.  When the human crossed the threshold of adulthood, the daimon was permanently set to one form which best reflected the owner’s personality.

This word, daimon, fascinated me.  I was familiar with daemon, which is a form of the word demon; which can only portray something that is evil.  I did some quick research and discovered that daimon was merely an alternate spelling for daemon; but the daimons in the story did not come across to me as something demonic.  Upon further searching, I discovered a definition for daimon that seemed to fit quite nicely for the daimons in the story: a guardian spirit.  So, I began to fantasize a little myself and tried to determine what kind of animal my daimon would be – if I were to believe in such a thing.

If I had a daimon, I thought, it might be something curious but not too mischievous.  Perhaps it would be a little monkey like the ones that dance and tip their little hats while the organ grinder plays his tunes.. His name would be Booker, and he would not resemble Curious George at all.

The nice thing about Booker, although he does not exist, is that he is an enabler for one of my weaknesses; buying books.  I can blame him every time I feel the compulsion to buy a book, and consummate the urge, knowing that I have so many books sitting on the shelves that were most likewise compulsively purchased and not yet read.  He can be very convincing in so many ways.  I try to resist, and feel that I am improving at ignoring him, but he still sometimes succeeds through dialog such as the following:

“Hey Junebug, do you know what tomorrow is?”

“No Booker. I’m busy. Go Away!”

“How can you forget about Valentine’s Day?”

“I know tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.  If you think I’m going to give you a chocolate heart-shaped banana, you can just turn yourself into something else… and quit sticking your face in front of mine.”

“I wasn’t thinking about me you grumpy bastard.  I was thinking about your wife; C-l-a-u-d-i-a. Hello in there.”

Sigh… “And what did you have in mind you pesky, hairy little-?”

“Weren’t you listening the other night when we were all watching Masterpiece Theatre?”

“You were there? What else did you witness that day?”

“Hmmm… Well, getting back to the subject.  Your sweet little wife just casually mentioned that perhaps she should read Pride and Prejudice some day.”

“I’m sure they have at least one copy at the library which is her preferred source for books.  Her daimon pushes fabric for quilts instead of books. Maybe I’ll just get her some chocolate.  She likes chocolate.”

“Yeah, I know, but the books at the library are smudged and dirty. You know, coffee stains, other peoples hair, smashed boogers. Think of all the germs that have been passed from person to book to person; especially on a book that has been in the library as long as that one!  Besides, there are some high priced chocolate coated malt balls that have been sitting on the shelf at home for a while. Furthermore, you kind of remind me of Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“Stop it Booker! Darcy was handsome and rich, and he could have had any woman he wanted.”

“Yeh, and he also had a weird first name too, but like you, he was smitten and in denial of love at first sight.  He ultimately chose not to settle for anyone other than Lizzie. Sound familiar? Hmmm?”

“Booker, you never cease to amaze me with your trickery and deceit. But you are starting to kind of make sense.”

“I always do, but you don’t always listen.”

“Okay, I’m listening now.”

“Hot damn Junebug! Let’s get over to the bookstore right now!”

“Not so fast Booker.  If I’m going to yield to your compulsions, I’ll do it when I get ready.”

“Okay Stubby, I’ll try to be patient for a while then.”

“Stubby? Are you making fun of my finger that was so violently ripped off by the snow blower?”

“Well, it does look kind of odd, and it was a stupid thing to do, you know.”

“And is that why you so suddenly abandoned me after that incident?”

“I didn’t abandon you.  Who do you think reminded you to take Jane Eyre along for the ambulance ride?”

“I thought of it myself, I’ll have you know!”

“Nope. You were in shock, and worried about that snow blower still sitting out on the sidewalk.  It was me who asked for Jane Eyre – and your wallet.”

“If people knew about you Booker, they might blame the snow blower accident on you.  Maybe it was you who made me stick my hand in that thing so we could maybe get in a little extra time for some reading. That’s what you always want isn’t it? Read one, buy three to replace it.”

“I would never hurt you, or cause you to hurt yourself.”

“I know.  It was my own silly mistake, but there was one good thing that resulted from it that I will never forget.”

“Something good came from a stub finger? The pain, the anxiety, the loss of work? There’s nothing good about that.”

“It was the look.”

“The look? What look?”

“The look, a snapshot, that I saw on Claudia’s face in the emergency room.  I thought you were there.”

“I had to leave for a while. I couldn’t bear to see you in that way.”

“That’s kind of how ‘the look’ was. She was sitting next to my bed and when I turned and looked at her once, she had this look on her face that will forever, I hope, remain in my memory.  Her eyes were moist, on the verge of tears. Crying and smiling had come together.  It was a mixture of grief, relief, sadness, anxiety: absolute love.  It was powerful.”

“You’re about to make me cry Stub.. I mean Junebug. I love her!”

“No Booker. You can only feel my love for her. Besides, you don’t exist.”

“You’re not kicking me out are you?”

“Daimons aren’t real Booker, but I do believe in guardian spirits.  Claudia is my guardian spirit.  Her form is fixed.  She keeps me headed in the right direction.  She is strong, although I sometimes do think that she unknowingly allows you to influence me.”

“I guess that means you’re stuck with her forever?”

“Only you could put it that way Booker.”

“What about me then?  Are you just going to send me back to the zoo?”

“I suppose you can stay a while longer, at least as long as you continue to recommend good books.  One more suggestion such as Outlander though, and you will be hitting the road old friend.”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Can we head on over to the bookstore now?”

Sigh… “Okay booker. You win again. Let’s head on over to the bookstore. But no books for us today. Okay?”

“That’s okay with me.  I just like to buy books!”

Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely wife!

February 14, 2008