Pet Peeves

Guardian Angels

I was fascinated reading the Indy article, “Devout Artist Focuses Her Lens on Heaven.”   Kerry Swank is a gifted photographer who did photographic portraits of members of California’s upper echelons. I was never photographed. A deeply religious person, Swank heard God’s voice one day direct her to take pictures of angels. I was not photographed for these, either. So, strike one. I’m not upper echelon. And strike two. I’m not an angel.

Now I’m worried. The count is against me. I’m up in years and I feel pressured to make things right before it’s too late. According to the article, Swank has seen angels since childhood. The closest I’ve come to an angel, was my mother’s assertion that I had a guardian angel. I can’t say that I ever saw this angel or felt its presence. My mother, who was a deeply religious person, was adamant that I had one. She also maintained that I was an old soul. However, I never knew what to do with the information about being an old soul or having a guardian angel. How much should you tip a guardian angel? And as to being an old soul, I’ve taken it easy on myself, so I don’t end up one morning as R2D2. Only shorter.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” is one of my all time favorite movies. It’s a Christmas classic. The main character is George Bailey and he lives in Bedford Falls, N.Y. He’s given up his dreams and desires to help others. Overly distraught on one Christmas Eve, he thinks about suicide and is saved by Clarence Oddbody, his guardian angel. Clarence shows George what Bedford Falls would be like if George didn’t exist. Life without George is an eye opener and Bedford Falls is much worse without him. George comes to his senses and reconnects with his loved ones. Clarence gets his wings because he saves George. The movie ends with George’s daughter asserting that every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.

I’ve heard a lot of bells, but I can’t say if an angel I can’t see or feel has gotten his wings. I’ve had wingmen in my younger days and can say that those guys are more likely to get horns rather than wings for all the mischief that they created. But all might not be lost. The count is two strikes against me, but I recall one year where I acted like a guardian angel. Yes, it was only a year. It’s all I can come up with.

I was 10 years old and lived in a neighborhood chock full of kids. It was “Our Gang.” We were a tight group and had much fun. However, there was one little kid who was about 4 and insisted on hanging around us. We didn’t really mind, except he believed he was Superman. He had the jersey and the cape. Sounds cute, right? No, it wasn’t. He truly believed he could fly. I spent a year talking him off of high ledges and making up reasons to stop his flight of fantasy. It was a harrowing year for me. Made me feel like an old soul. I’m happy to report the kid named Clark survived. The Kent family never knew what my friends and I went through to make sure the kid saw his 5th birthday. I guess that’s what being an angel is all about.

A year is probably not enough time to suggest a Kerry Swank photograph of me. Perhaps an Etch a Sketch would be more suitable. That way, if I don’t maintain a level of angelic goodness, then one good shake will send me back to the devil that knows me.

I promise to be on my best behavior until I hear the right bells.

Mark is a transplant to Laguna from Chicago. He occasionally writes the guest column “Pet Peeves.” His recently deceased Border Collie, Pokey, is his muse and ghostwriter.