Ellen

For those of you who remember Ellen, the elephant at the Little Rock Zoo, here is a true story when Jonathan was only 5 or 6. Patty and I were fortunate enough to see her just 2 weeks before she past away.

Ellen

Jumping the fence, braving the icy wind and certain expulsion, we race to see Ellen. The three of us hand in hand laughing, feeling naughty and excited at this chance opportunity. She meets us at the edge of her confinement. Trunk thrust forward longing for a familiar touch. Not finding one of her own she excepts touches from us. We stand and caress her, attempting to comfort her with words of love and how "we would make her house more natural, with earthen floor and absent walls - oooo if only we could". Her skin is alien to my fingers yet beautiful in their uniqueness. She stands close to the bars now and we touch her massive legs and great body and tell her how much we wish we could take the sores around her feet from her. She takes her trunk and touches the young one on the head. His blond hair is gently tossed by her sensitive nose, and the young one smiles and whispers - "I love you Ellen". We stand in her shadow and give praise for her birth. We have to tear ourselves away but the fear of being seen in a restricted area moves our feet, though not so fast. We walk backwards, talking to her, letting her know that we love her - will not forget her. Her eyes follow us till we are back on the pavement, were we are suppose to be. Ellen slowly turns around as we head down the path and as we turn the corner her eyes disappear.

We take a few steps and then back up to look at her one last time. Mary had also backed up putting her rear on the rusty bars. She scratches her butt then raises her trunk with a loud elephant trumpet sound. We turn and run down the path, laughing and loving.

At Jim's

Walking in the front door I'm accosted by the proprietor. A middle aged, slightly portly, man with a grin that stretches across his square face. With a laugh and a twinkle in his eye he says, "what are you doing here, we don't want anything from you". I smile in spite of myself. With a warm handshake Jim asks about me, my family and... "the magic".

Jim's place, as we call it in my household, is the local magic store and hang out of magicians, clowns, and other would be entertainers, especially those of us who have a desire to entertain by deception. His place (8912 Stagecoach Rd Little Rock, AR, (501) 455-6242) is a menagerie of gags, gaffs, puppets, posters, pictures, books, magazines, DVDs, videos, tables, boxes and over 10,000 magic tricks. All of this arranged, (mostly), and catalogued in a 3 ring binder, put into glass display cases, twirling wire racks, shelves and peg boards. Mr. Magic is a place of warmth and the love he has for magic is transferred to everyone who walks through the door.

On any given Saturday morning you are apt to find a collection of full time professionals, part time professionsal, amatures in various stages of skill and knowledge, sages of magical history and all of them ready to share their knowedge and expertise with the magician or the public. You will also find Joe public who might be interested in this art or looking for a present or a gag to play on the unsuspected.

If you have ever had an interest in the art of illusion, do yourself a favor, visit Mr. Magic or if you are bored by the mundane, the common and ordinary, spend a Saturday morning at the magic shop. You meet characters at Jim's.