THE STATE OF MONTANA Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Jordan Montana was not a place name. His parents bestowed upon him, without a middle name, that title. The family heritage had nothing to do with the state of the same spelling. As with thousands of others, when his immigrant forefather arrived at Ellis Island, New York, the immigration officer had difficulty understanding his great, great grandfather’s Russian last name and thus, on the form was written, Montana.

Jordan Montana had nothing to do with the geographic State of Montana. He had never been there. He didn’t particularly want to go there.

All the maps he viewed placed Montana at such a distance from anywhere else that the trip would seem endless; a journey that had no significant points along the way to a seemingly desolate destination. After all, the journey had to have some appeal to make the destination worthwhile.

One woman he knew said the place he took her was unique. She suggested that he did take her into a “state of Montana.” Her energy following that drive to, and arrival at the ‘state of Montana’ showed such exuberance and imaginative appeal it certainly encouraged him to help her find that place again. She offered to detail the route to being in the ‘state of Montana.’

“It’s all in the details,” she said as she guided his touch to her personal geography.

Jordan Montana enjoyed the challenge of learning the details of the mountains and valleys.

“Not every woman has the same map, Jordan. You’ll see. Sometimes the route you take will lead to dead ends.”

“Then it is important to enjoy the journey.” He offered with a smile and a nipple nibble.

“And who you travel with is important.” She said pulling his body closer to hers.

He was thankful his first tour guide was so informative.

Finding or guiding a woman to “the state of Montana” wasn’t always easy. Some women simply wanted a brochure only. Some wanted a look at the ‘film at eleven.’ Some were willing for a short visit. Some even begged to approach that destination, looked through the fence, but did not enter through the gate. A few women even bought a ticket but failed to reach the departure gate. Some tried to cross the threshold but basically their entry permit would not allow a long enough stay to really arrive.

Traveling to that place, with some partners, involved a lot of baggage. For most, he liked riding along to their ‘state of Montana’ but if they weren’t packed, or rather unpacked, correctly the distance seemed like a trek through Siberia or sailing on becalmed Gulf of Mexico waters. Neither journey was all that satisfying, and the destination ultimately worthless.

Jordan Montana did not like being a baggage handler. He had enough of his own. If a companion traveling to that state, continued to pack certain cerebral personal effects, the destination most certainly would not be reachable and the companion ought to be left behind like forgotten cheap souvenirs.

Instant hurricanes weren’t all that rewarding either. Exciting but treasures were limited despite the speed and power of the swirling attempts and when it was all over and the debris from the tornado of energy settled, the moments of calm were like laying in the eye of the storm, waiting for the next wind to swirl at him. That was, on a couple of occasions, almost terrifying.

Attaining the ‘state of Montana’ involved having the right partner. The choosing of the perfect traveling companion had to be done with care and near precision. Once Jordan recognized the pre-requisites for a trip to that state, he began to lighten up on his own baggage.

That’s not to say he didn’t become frustrated by his own uncertainty of ever accomplishing the same feat again. Thomas Edison tried 5,000 experiments before he found the one right light bulb. Jordan Montana had at least that old man’s persistence. After all, his professional accomplishments had not arrived on the first try. Years of practice and effort brought the acclaim he now enjoyed.

He didn’t tell the ladies that their arrival at the ‘state of Montana’ was the accumulation of many, many experiments. Nor did he tell them that every experiment had the obligatory and more often than not, a different recipe for success. Every formula required the right spark for the Bunsen burner to flame, the correct laboratory, the necessary laboratory equipment and the willingness of a lab assistant. An experimental event should not be attempted if one or more ingredient was missing.

Every event should have its own modus operandi, unique, and yet, follow a prescribed pattern.

Jordan Montana at the age of seventeen had discovered the modus operandi to make his flame ignite rockets to the stars.