ALWAYS CHASING RAINBOWS

         Does the Prize Patrol use hot air balloons? I hope so, for one is approaching my house from the north on this cloudy and mild Saturday morning in November. Will he attempt to land in my field or will he just drop the check as he passes over? I would think too many berry bushes and small trees have sprouted in the past three years to make a descent possible, so I shall stand on the deck and catch the envelope.

         I think I see the cameraman now, and that must be the talking head on the other side of the gondola. I hope he doesn't scare the horses when he shouts into the microphone, "Happy Holidays Mrs. Lidle; here's your ten million dollar check. Catch it!"

         "Mrs. Lidle!" I forgot about that! She was the one who entered all of their sweepstakes; I sat in the corner, a mocking shadow, snickering, especially when she ordered a ceramic bluebird because she thought it improved her chances. Will they award the winnings posthumously? Will I have to probate her estate?

         Do they have to know? Maybe the blond Halloween wig is still in the house. I think it's in the drawer in the black chest. Her robe is in the closet. In the wig and robe on a Saturday morning, what person could tell from a height of five-hundred-feet? I think I'd better shave first though.

         Ten Million Dollars! That's real money, even after taxes. I can quit crunching numbers and become a full time unpaid writer. I'll attend workshops. Maybe it's not too late to get into the University of Iowa for this year. Oh hell, with ten million I can buy my own publishing company or subsidize a university press. And not just for me, but for my writer friends who have encouraged me.

         All these years I've waited! Never a winner in games of chance! My sister and I couldn't even win the egg toss at the family reunion as teenagers. Wonder if she has forgiven me? Maybe if I'd broken the egg rather than tossed it back to her with the slight crack in it, I would have had better luck in lotteries. How does the song go, "Some people make a winning sometimes, I never even make a gain".

         Stop this self-pity, you fool. You won the office football pool in 1967 or was it 1968? You were the only one who knew the smart money was getting down on Bates in the Colby-Bates game.

         1968? Wasn't it the fall of that the year that saw the great treasure hunt fiasco? Up and down that stupid hill someone called a mountain looking for that key we went: Squirrel, Crazy Frank and who was that other person?

         It had to be someone else who was young and unemployed. Ernie Bass was still in school and Krish never hung with us in the bowling alley all day. The name will come to me. "Bums Incorporated" was what Franny called us. He had gall. The coffee in his vending machine was terrible and he kept the radio behind the counter tuned to that mainstream station. Wee Willie Webber blasting out the Jones boys, Tom and Jack, along with Engelbert, Steve and Edye for your lunchtime listening pleasure on "WIP, 610" on your radio dial.

         They used to give away $61.00 by placing a random call several times a day. Sixty-one dollars! I can't remember if that was real money then. It was an Arbitron Sweep month when some genius came up with the idea of placing a key in a place where a listener could find it, and with a prize starting at $610. Give a clue every hour, and if the key were not found, the prize doubled. Real radio excitement to go along with "Please Release Me"!

"I AM THE PILLAR OF A SUBURBAN COMMUNITY."

         ‘That could be anywhere,’ we thought as we flipped coins to see who would buy the next round of coffee while we waited for the next hourly clue.

''LOOK ON THE MAP FOR A HAPPY VICTORY."

         ‘Mount Joy in Valley Forge Park! Yeah! And there is a big arch there too! A pillar! Let's go.’ Out the front door and into Frank’s car we bounced. We were so excited no one yelled, “Shotgun”, but then maybe we were too old and too cool for teen argot in 1968. ‘Follow Sproul Road to 23 and go left. Ten miles and you are there, through Springfield, Marple, Villanova, Gladwyne and King of Prussia.’

“THE ONLY WAY TO GRIND NEW CORN IS WHERE YOU CROSS THE STREAM.”

         ‘Hey, Valley Forge is right next to the Schuylkill. Corn, makes no sense unless there is an old mill there. You can see the river from some places in the park like Washington’s Headquarters. Maybe there’s a mill there. Speed up Frank. It’s up to twenty-four hundred bucks now.’

         ‘Let’s try Mt. Joy first, there’s a fire tower there that you can climb. Yeah, that’s a pillar too! Bet it’s on it. Turn right, that’s it! There’s the parking lot. Frank and I’ll go up the tower. You two look around down here. Next clue is in twenty minutes. One of us has to stay near the car.’

         ‘Hey, Frank, hate to say it, but I passed some other people who are looking. You did too? He even said it? Look down there, see those two guys and the girl near the bathrooms. Looks like they're looking too. Yeah, let’s go down, the clue is going to be on soon.”

         ‘We saw them too. You say one guy thinks it's at the arch? You wanna try it? Hmmm? Ok, Let’s hear the clue first.’

“I AM SIX, JUST PAST SIXTY.”

         ‘Anything? Sixty years ago would be 1928, about right for when the arch might have been built. Wanna try it before anyone else gets there? They all seem to be heading back to the tower. It ain’t there, Frank and I can tell you that. Frankie even climbed out on the railing to look on the outside.’

         ‘Where would they even hang a key on an arch unless it’s on a statue?

         ‘It’s just past four. You have take your mother somewhere? It’s dark by six anyway, so we can come back tomorrow. No one’s found it yet. Let me ride shotgun?’

“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHH WOOOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOOO!!!!!! ATTENTION LISTENERS, WE HAVE A WINNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

         “Fred and Mary Ippolito of Shunk Street in South Philadelphia have found the WIP key. Tell us where and how you found it, Mary.”

         “Dick, I was listening and I says to Fred, ‘Happy Victory's gotta be ‘GLAD-WYNE’ and maybe a tree or pole. I couldn’t think of anything else there. So we drove there and in the car heard about grinding corn and crossing the river. Fred looks on the map and sees ‘RIGHT-ERS MILL ROAD’ and then we saw ‘YOUNG’S FORD ROAD.’ I says to Fred, ‘ford’s where you cross the stream.’ So we drove up and down Righter’s Mill and then Fred smacks his head and calls himself 'dummy’ and says, ‘telephone poles are pillars.’ We found it before your last clue but couldn’t get to a phone. It was the sixth pole from Young’s Ford Road, maybe sixty yards from the corner. We was so excited.”

         ‘Turn that damned thing off. We drove right through Gladwyne.’

         Thirty-three years ago! Long time to wait for chickens to roost, but it will be a wee bit more than the $4,800 that couple won. Come on baby! Such a pretty blue balloon! Hey, you’re going off course; over here please! No, he crossed the trees and now he’s going across the road and landing next to that farmhouse! That’s not fair! They have money! They spent a fortune fixing that place up.

         What a bummer, as we would have said back in ‘68. So close I could taste it! I think I’ll go back to bed. Thomas a Beckett is going to have to wait, Jan. I won’t be able to hire you an editor, Jackie, and Maralyn, I guess you’ll have to find your own producer for that screenplay. What will become of Pam and her stories of romance? Looks like we will have to attend workshops and conferences while I make my inane suggestions about your plots. In my mind I had already hired illustrators for your covers.

         The balloon is punctured but the bed feels good. Dreaming while I’m awake is dangerous. Carol, Jackie, Lynda, Pam and Pam, Maralyn, Rosemary and all my other readers, I’ve already won and more than ten million. Humph! Righter’s Mill is really a tortured clue.