Looking for Lightning

I once almost met a snake called Lightning.

It was the night of Scott Lesher's memorial potluck. I had worked a long shift at Planet Care on a busy Saturday. I left work in one of those mind-numbed stupors. The sky was slate. Beads of water dashed to earth from above. Then stopped.

I drove to a mysterious house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright which sat off a busy street under a miniature forest. Chickens scratched in the woods beside the driveway and made complaining noises when I stopped to photograph them.

I stood under makeshift shelter-type tents and talked to people about Scott. But I had to leave early in order to do my radio show. The man who owns the Frank Lloyd Wright house loaned me a cd with a copy of a song Scott had recorded just days before his death to play on my show. Broadcasting it on this day seemed like a nice addition to the memorial spirit.

I went to the station and did my radio show. I played Scott's song. One person called to thank me for playing it. He sounded teary.

After leaving the station, I went back to the Frank Lloyd Wright house in order to return the borrowed cd. I sat in the fading light of day with several people whom I didn't really know but who were delightful to talk with. And I pondered the meaning of a life short-lived and the impact this phenomenon has on loved ones. Eventually, feeling somewhat spent and coaxed by darkness, I left.

Driving towards my house, I remembered a party to which I'd been invited. I felt the need to stop in and at least say hello to some folks. So I altered my route and proceeded to this party.

When I arrived at the house of the host, I walked in the front door and was greeted by a young boy - Jonah - who was playing a video game. In previous encounters Jonah barely acknowledged my presence. So when he seemed friendly, even chatty with me, I decided to sit with him for a bit and watch him command a graphic rendition of a skateboarder. I sat cross-legged on the floor and watched this child - who I'm guessing is five - act like one of the big kids, furiously triggering the control device and talking to the game as if his words would alter his success.

I tried to imagine his thought process. Never having been drawn very deeply into the realm of video games, I wondered what the attraction was. Why was this more appealing than running around outside in the dark playing hide and seek. Hide and seek in the dark is super fun and challenging. There is an added dimension of scariness that gets the adrenaline running. But all the other kids were upstairs engaged in some other indoor activities that did not involve hiding. In this instant I could relate to Jonah, who found a little corner all to himself where he could live out a fantasy of being a big kid or being a skateboarder or being a pro video game player.

This other kid - Max appeared on the staircase. Max is the caretaker of Lightning, the Snake. In previous encounters, I made it abundantly clear that I would like to meet Lightning. I welcome any opportunity to see - up close and personal - and perhaps hold a snake. I consider it a part of my ongoing process to completely remove all fear of these lovely beings and to become as comfortable with them as possible.

Upon recognizing me, Max said, "Oh hi. You wanna meet Lightning?" I told him, "Yes, I would love to meet Lightning!" So he lead me upstairs to his room.

Max carefully opened his door, closing it as soon as we were inside. I felt privileged. I had been allowed to enter the inner sanctum of a male middle schooler. I treated this moment with all seriousness and respect.

Max walked over to Lightning's aquarium and lifted the cover from its top. He rummaged through the wood shavings that lined Lightning's home. He lifted several rock-like constructions, tapping on them as he did. Apparently, Lightning had escaped. And apparently this had happened before. Because Max seemed completely calm and methodical in all that followed. He knew exactly what to do.

He opened the top drawer to the dresser upon which sat Lightning's abode. This was Max's sock drawer. He told me that previously Lightning had been found hiding in there. Max carefully removed the drawer, explaining to me as he did that Lightning sometimes perches on the runners.

The inspection of the sock drawer and its corresponding runners yielded no snake. Max proceeded to methodically go down every drawer, removing all the clothing and then carefully removing the drawer. "This is the scary part," he told me as he pulled the drawer out. "Because I could crush him if he's in there. I don't want to hurt him."

The care with which Max negotiated the removal of the drawers spoke volumes of his maturity and his humanity. He remained calm and focused during this process. But when Lightning failed to reveal himself, I sensed a degree of agitation in Max. This was not helped by the fact that a significantly large number of other children were running about and peeking in and asking what was going on. Very soon, everyone knew that Lightning was gone. Expressing their concern and trying to be helpful, flocks of kids crowded in asking whether Lightning had been found. Max grew impatient and asked everyone to please leave. He did indeed say "please."

Concerned kids suggested places to look - such as the closet. Max grew indignant at these suggestions. "Why would he go there? Why would he? He's a snake. He wants warmth and light. Why would he go into the closet? It's dark in there. And cool. Why would he go there?" "For food?" one small boy offered hesitantly.

Max again asked everyone to please leave. I suggested that it might be a good idea for me to go through every article of clothing that had been dumped into a pile on the floor, shake it out to make sure Lightning wasn't hiding inside of it and then I could put the clothes back into the drawers. Max agreed this was a good idea. I was partially considering Max's mom and dad happening upon the wreckage and becoming ticked off. Maybe Max was considering this possibility as well. So I carefully lifted every shirt, every brief, every pair of pants out of the pile, shook it, folded it and put it away while Max continued his search.

Children continued to peek in and, not wanting to upset Max, asked me in a whisper whether the snake had been found. I gave them a status update with a simple shake of my head. They withdrew, dejected.

Max's search for Lightning was calm and logical. He considered very carefully the places Lightning had hidden in the past and examined his motives for going to this place rather than that one. I felt a sense of despair rising up in him, but he never allowed that feeling to manifest. He continued to methodically conduct his search. Eventually, I asked whether I should seek the intervention of his dad and he said yes. He asked if I would tell him. And so I did.

I'd been at the party for roughly an hour and had not encountered a single adult. I left Max's Inner Sanctum, passed by the throngs of jumping, rolling and lolling kids and headed for the stairs. I was stopped briefly by an angel of a girl who was watching videos of some pop star and singing along. I watched with her for a moment and again wondered at this manifestation that seemed somehow age inappropriate. The world is a much different place than it was when I was raising babies. Technology entered our lives a bit late in the process.

I wandered downstairs to find Max's dad. The adult guests were, for the most part, congregating on a patio in the back yard. Candle light and strings of lights, wine bottles galore, outdoor furniture, the buzz of many people talking simultaneously. I struggled to make out the faces of the people around me. I suddenly became aware of how tired I was.

I told Max's dad about Lightning. He made a "not again" face and removed himself from the adult fun. I do not know what unfolded at that point. I prepared to leave, but found myself sitting in the kitchen listening to stories about Scott Lesher. Again, I felt privileged. Again, I had entered an inner sanctum of good friends and shared experience.

It was quite late when I departed. I expressed my concern for Lightning and was assured that he would turn up. He always does.

Lightning did indeed emerge a day or two later. He'd been found hiding behind some art.

Max set up a facebook page for Lightning the Snake. Whenever Lightning disappeared, facebook fans of Lightning got the status update. Whenever he reappeared, a collective cheer erupted on the internet.

Lightning the Snake was last seen in his humble abode 27 days ago. As of this moment - November 16, 2010 at 11:27 p.m. - Lightning has been missing for 27 days. I have not spoken to Max in this time. I have been getting my status updates via facebook. I leave comments stating my solidarity with this brave, bold, smart youngster. I can only imagine his worry has dissolved into a weary defeat.

But I believe Lightning will emerge. I believe he got tired of a diet of once-frozen dead mice. I believe he wanted to hunt for some fresh meat. I believe he's having all sorts of fabulous hunting adventures, maybe even has a trophy or two and possibly has encountered the Mouse King himself!

Maybe Lightning has been spying on the Mouse army and uncovered their plot to foil the Nutcracker Prince. Caught in a web of political intrigue, it's been relatively impossible to return home in a timely manner. When all order is restored in the Land of Sugar Plums, Lightning will return. Unscathed, though weary. And he and Max will have a stupendously happy reunion.

All will be as it should be. And at long last, I will meet Lightning the Snake.