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Page #11
Fall 2008

During the fall I visited twice more. These sessions became a sort of "Epidemiology/Virology for Dummies" training. Slowly MA tried to bring my knowledge level up a notch or two.

We spent quite a bit of time on Ebola (her specialty). Using Ebola and it's history she explained how important viral recombination can be in a major pandemic.

January 2009

I spent the winter learning about sialic acid, neuraminidase, Mannose-binding lectin and viral mutation. It was not something that I was particularly good at. But bless her heart MA allowed me to slowly absorb a bit of the background I would need to understand her thesis. For example one cold Saturday afternoon she walked me through a series of lessons on viral glycoproteins. Glycosylation can be an important factor in virulence. Not a point I would soon forget in the coming months.

I was beginning to understand the strange language she spoke.

I did not know that April would change my chalkboard to a real world lesson and that she had been preparing me for events that were still yet to come.

Early Summer 2009

The H1N1 pandemic was building up steam. The outbreak was highly contagious but, on balance, only mildly lethal. However, the fatalities fell mostly within two subsets:

1. Young and healthy
2. Or ill.

As it rolled south, there was a sense of dread. Just a little too close to the 1918 paradigm for most folks.

I had taken an apartment in Carson and felt ready to write online of my long strange trip under the tutelage of Mother Abigail. There really wasn’t that much more to consider - I understood, as best as a layman can, her thesis and vision.

But knowing and believing is a long step from creating. I am a science writer not a futurist.

Facts are my friends and the form and structure of this story mostly eluded me – how to tell this tale seemed far more formidable than the theme. The theme was burned into my heart and mind.

So I went up to the Lake again. MA, I asked, “How in the world do I write this story?”

Page #12

It was June and we were setting down by the boat dock in the shade of that huge tree that I had come to love so much.

It had been a cool summer thus far and I had a tall gin and tonic to fight off the cold of the Lake. While I sipped, she stared off at the cross of snow still visible on the mountain across the Lake. Then she smiled that smile that those who know her so cherish and said, “Just start telling it and God will see you through”.

Now I have had editors, co-authors and technical advisors – but the thought of Devine Guidance steering my syntax was a bit much for me. But it was all she would say.

As I drove down to Carson, I pondered her response. Could I write in a “stream of consciousness” mode? Trust me; I am structured from my flip flops to my fedora and about as likely to write something that had not been re-written, edited and polished as you are to win at keno.

But it might work.

I could post on a couple of sites and let the story flow from me naturally with my only allegiance being to tell it honestly and to be fair to Mother Abigail.

It might work.

JULY 2009

Last weekend my lady friend Kate had told me in no uncertain terms that my latest gift was inappropriate. Well so be it…

I had spent a lot of time and effort to find that special something for her. It is what it is. Young women are both a blessing and curse to those of us with a little seasoning.

So, what the hell, I booked. Next thing I knew I was going over Donner Pass heading for the bay. I often use the ocean breeze as some use yoga – it is my ultimate soothing place.

And I needed soothing. I could not pull the trigger on my piece. I had tried to write the first three segments for a month and had wasted more electrons than a toaster oven. It didn’t feel right; it didn’t seem honest or genuine.

So July 3rd found me setting in the Xterra (a fine rental vehicle) overlooking Seal Rock and writing on my laptop – again.

July 4th found me back at the resort on the peninsula – it was a perfect day. The sun was hot and the sky perfect. So I just stopped and relaxed by the pool – the accidental tourist.

There are lines we cross with full knowledge and conviction, and those we just stumble over. This was the former.

Unwilling to wait any longer I decided to just do as MA had suggested – I would start the work with no outline and very little organization and see what happens.

I still don’t know what will happen.