the ballad of marmalade jim

this is not a ballad. it's pretty much a regular story. just get over it right now and move on so you can read about jim.

marmalade jim was born somewhere in harlem somewhere after the turn of the century. nobody knows for sure how things went but eventually he took up with a man whose head was full of hurricanes and earthquakes. they lived together in a dingy apartment that smelled, more often than not, of electricity and fear. when jim could feel the storms inside the man's head leaking out, he'd curl up next to the man and press his honey-orange stripes against the hurricane winds and the rumbles of the earthquakes until they'd stop. the man, exhausted from the storms but grateful as he'd feel them leaving, would pet jim all along his stripes and they'd sit in the dark until they both fell asleep.

one day, the storms inside the man's head were stronger than they'd ever been and the hurricanes spun off tornadoes that shot ugly fire out of them. the earthquakes broke holes inside the man so big he didn't think anything would stop them up so he began eating. batteries. socks. nobody can say for sure why, but it seemed like the man was hoping they would somehow make the storms stop. the storms kept raging and the warmth of jim's fur against the man's body did nothing to help him either. the man needed much more. some kind people took the man to a new place where the storms begain to subside and the world became real again. but jim was alone in the dingy apartment that no longer smelled of anything.

the same folks who took the man to a safe place came back for jim and brought him to a new apartment, one with brightly colored walls and a tiny, angry kitten. there was a man and a woman and although the house smelled a bit of electricity and jim could tell there had been storms in someone's head, they seemed to have cleared out. from time to time he'd press himself up against the people in the house who didn't seem to need him all that much but who loved him just the same. he stayed with the people a long time, suffering constant abuse from the kitten who grew into a misguided and angry cat. in time the people brought a small dog home and although jim tried to calm his hysterical yippings as he'd so often calmed the storms of the man he'd lived with, the dog saw everything as play. when the people brought home a second dog, older, soaked in fear, jim snuggled up to the dog and could feel the fear falling away. jim spent years trying to understand this crazy family, the angry cat, the out of control dog and the quieter, always slightly aloof dog. he'd do what he could to allay their fears when he felt them reaching out of the animals, clawing at him. and the animals, all of them in different ways, became slightly gentler, just a bit calmer and maybe more connected to the world and each other.

and when the angry cat got sick and hid herself, jim couldn't help her a bit, but he sat on a rug near her, watching, knowing she'd never let him put his soft fur against hers, hoping whatever it was about him that helped others could reach across the few feet she kept herself away from him. months later when the old dog began to shake and shudder, seemed to be shedding his very self, jim moved toward him just as he had with the man. the old dog, like the man, sighed and went limp and fell into the soft orangeness over and over for a very long time, right up until the last days.

but jim had been thinking about a different sort of life during these days, a life that wasn't inside all the time, a life that allowed him to skulk around in tall grass full of crickets. he'd imagined, looking through barred apartment windows, a life where he rolled onto his back in the sun, the real sun, in the late afternoon while birds screamed at him from trees not too far away. and the people he lived with could see it and knew about it a long time, knew about it while he sat on a couch in their apartment, draping his fur over a shivering dog. and they wanted something better for him, larger, more real. so they asked around, hoping there was someone out there who would love a cat like jim, a cat who had worked so hard for so long to take care of others.

when the wonderful thing happened, it came about because the people had friends who knew jim and loved him and wanted to give him all those things he deserved. they had a life in the country they'd be willing to share with jim way down in southern maryland. southern maryland, crammed near to brimming with crabs and chipped beef, is a long, long way from brooklyn, mostly on spindly roads. and the people went, jim's people, they packed up jim in a pet crate, put the small dog on the seat beside him, fought their way through staten island to the mainland and on to maryland. at midnight they arrived to four chickens, two dogs, the people they all loved and the promise of a county fair. they weren't expecting the fair and hadn't met the chickens before so they stayed up well into the night visiting and plotting and planning. there was talk of goats.

jim found a new bed in the room where his people were staying. there were toys and treats and catnip in several forms. although it will be a bit of a while before he's outside lying in the sun, a while where jim is getting to know the new part of his family and the new places in his home, the sun is out there waiting with a patio and grass full of crickets.