Yesterday's Invention

My luck with digital cameras appears to have taken a dramatic, serendipitous, and wholly remarkable turn for the better - one that makes up for the perils that beset the first few at a stroke.

I fear the tale cannot be told properly but over beverages of the alcoholic variety, as it really must conclude with a spirited toasting to its unknown hero, Clifton Marley. The depth and strangeness of the connections are explained somewhat here, while here may you find a copy of the letter mailed last week by the camera's discoveror. To complete the puzzle, below is the text of the initial bottled message that, perhaps, floats on in the Pacific waters. The fateful picture is placed in its proper context (address removed).

The irony of its use in this caper to return the camera to me is pretty damn hilarious. The world still has an unbridled power to amaze. To say that this original letter had a "widely uncertain future" is understated back in May - if I had known what was in store then, how could one ever have believed it?

May 6, 2006
Scheherazade (and the finder of this note)

Here goes a flyer... let's see how this message fares. My flight leaves home for Maui in a few short hours, and though sitting on the beach for sunset I can see the airport tower in the distance and will walk there when darkness falls.

I so love listening to the sweet, repetitive lullaby of the waves, and the wind whistling along the beach in tune warms both body and soul. I hope you have found similar comfort wherever your travels took you.

Strange writing a letter that you (or anyone) will likely never read. That seems to call for greater import to the words - some grand commitment or prounouncement, and alas I have none to offer. I have so enjoyed my time out here in Hawaii, and will return with a sense of genuine personal satisfaction, lots of reflection, acceptance, and future dreams forged here I am not going to let myself forget.

I read recently of a priest who sermoned at length about the glory of a God who had yet to invent tomorrow. I love the romantic notion inherent in that level of uncertainty that truly anything can happen next. I could turn and walk back to town instead of boarding the plane, or move wherever. This letter also has a widely uncertain future... it could be found tomorrow or in 10 years or even spend an infinite amount of time bobbing thousands of miles through the Pacific. The randomness of these waves and the generosity of you - the next reader of these words - will determine its fate. Make it a good one.