The journey took Iglatikuk to a place he never thought really existed. In the cold almost unreachable places of the high Canadian arctic, legend has it that a Joe DiMaggio baseball card gently landed onto Iglatikuk's blue eyed face, as he lay awake in his qagip. For years after that he dreamed of meeting the romantic and elegant Joe DiMaggio.
Writer's Note: I have selected Joe DiMaggio for my own enjoyment. Some may wonder there has to be a reason but no there isn't. Sometimes things don't have to have meaning. Now back to the story.
On an uncharacteristically warm autumn day, as Iglatikuk was carving an inuksuk while sharing whale blubber with his brother, his father approached him. "It is time my blonde son for you to discover your soul," he said, as he slammed the head of a caribou before them. Iglatikuk knelt before it and began throat singing.
"No, stupid. I mean it is time for you to meet the qallunaaq - white people. The Northern Lights have shown that our ancient ancestors may very well summon this card you carry with you. There is a kayak for you waiting. Take it and let the spirits guide you to a metropolis called New York."
Iglatikuk, visibly apprehensive to take this journey, was mildly defiant about having to use a kayak. "Can I take L'il Qajait instead?" "My son, use the kayak." Iglatikuk was not sure how to handle his objection. "I can not leave my brother Little Kelikvak. I will miss mother dearly. How shall I take care of them from such far places?" he nervously asked his father.
"They are of no concern to you now. Upon your return you will be a man. Don't worry," as he smiled to caress his son, "Mother will be here to cook you your favorite meal."
The thought of walrus in a blanket on a bed of seaweed excited Iglatikuk. "Father, I will find myself on this journey. But first I must go dig a hole in the ice and let a big one go."
Morning rapidly arrived and Iglatikuk was on his way. Tears were flowing like the mighty Mackenzie. It was -40c so the tears turned into little rounded icicles. Carefully weaving through the relaxed rivers in quiet revelation, he ignored the tears.
"We were born before the wind. Also younger that the sun ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic…"
It was a solitary trip. Iglatikuk was overwhelmed by the sheer gorgeous power of water and land. It was also time to lay rest. He industriously constructed an igloo on an ice carpet that was rendered immobile wedged between two giant ice masses. Proudly he shouts, "I am the Van Horne of my people!"
When it was time to lay his laurels he was wide-awake under the dancing stars. For four long days he paddled and lived in unison with nature just like his ancestors did. He survived on nothing but arctic char caught with his kakivak. On the fifth day - land.
A man was standing on the beach smoking a cigarette while he adjusted his tuque. Upon spotting Iglatikuk reeling in his kayak he barely believed his eyes.
Iglatikuk approached the man. He was polite and timid. "Excuse me sir. Where is the nearest Coureur de bois outpost?" The man stood silent as the cigarette dangled listlessly on his lip. "Er…"
His colleague attentively interrupted and stepped in. "Eskimo pie. Didn't you hear? The Hudson's Bay Company bought out the coureur de bois in 1733 for $3. I bought some shares when HBC spun-them out last year. Darn thing has yet to pay dividends."
"Enough, Dougie. The kid is lost. This is no time for your sarcasm, eh?"
"I am not an Eskimo. I am an Inuit."
"Well, you don't look Inooit. You're kinda tall. Almost goofy looking," observed the man with the tuque.
"Good genes I suppose. What is this sweater you have on?" Iglatikuk retorted with diplomatic skill.
"It's an Edmonton Eskimo football jersey."
"I like it even though it has an offensive name. Where can I get one?"
Dougie gestured to his friend. "Ah, c'mon Gordie. Your brother works for the Esks. He can always get you another one."
And so it was. Iglatikuk's first encounter with the qallunaaq was a successful one. "Thank you. I will ask the shaman's to perform a ceremony for your gentle souls tonight."
Privately, Iglatikuk was confused as he lamented the buy-out of the adventurous Frenchmen. "Darn Elders. They really need to get the Internet!"
Later that day he consulted his map in the streets of Edmonton to plot his Eastward movement. "I must think like the caribou," he pondered with his finger tapping his lower lip.
He finally settled on a scenic route via the Prairies to Montreal. "When all else fails my Elders always taught me to follow the Trans-Canada. It has eyes like the caribou."
It is in this unique city where Iglatikuk came to befriend Noot. A former gate master at DeLormier Downs with remedial bilingual skills, Noot was a baseball aficionado.
"Nice parka," were his first words to Iglatikuk.
"Thank you. Always wear fur because you never know."
"Hmm. Never though of that. And that?" Noot asked.
"This is a dream catcher. It will catch what I am looking for."
A friendship was now possibly in progress.
"What is that strange item you are eating?" Noot looked at the fruit bemused and answered, "This? It's an apple. A Granny Smith to be exact." Could you please kindly direct me to a place where I can take one? I am terribly hungry."
The strange boy before him took Noot. "I've got nothing else to do," he murmured to himself. Noot escorted the young Inuit to a local grocery store. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he felt sorry for Iglatikuk. Maybe he saw and felt his pristine and gentle aura.
The owner of the store too, for his part, could not help but be intrigued by the obscure Inuit, "Looka here. Now you're an original."
Iglatikuk shrugged his shoulders; "No I am not. I am but a mere culmination of my ancestors."
"Oh. Aren't we all? That'll be a heavy 24 cents."
Ignoring the request Iglatikuk offered the storeowner an observation; "I see much distress in your eyes."
At that moment a man cursed and bustled his way in and interrupted the conversation between the three men.
"I need more money," he curtly told the storeowner.
Quietly he handed some cash over to the man. "Dammit Dad! I don't need nickels. I need more. Christ, you know I own a club."
"Son, it's been a slow year and I just don't have that kind of money." He looked at his father in disgust and walked out.
Embarrassed the storeowner looked at Noot.
"You know, I thought you looked familiar when you walked in."
"Familiar?"
"Didn't you used to work at Jarry Park?"
"Yes."
"I used to take my son - the lad you just saw - to many games out there. Coco Laboy was his favorite player." He looked outside "We haven't spoken in years."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Iglatikuk sensing the tension interjected, "I am going to New York to find Joe DiMaggio. Do you know him?"
The confused storeowner looked at Noot who can only offer a smile.
"The Yankee Clipper? Who doesn't? You know, I was there when the streak ended in Baltimore. Where I'm originally from."
"Streak?"
"You don't know about the streak? Kid, you have some reading to do if you want to get to know DiMaggio."
Noot realized that basic hard economic realties were not his new friend's forte. The concept of exchanging money for goods and services had clearly bypassed Iglatikuk.
"I don't know where you're from kid but you have to pay this gentleman for that apple." Iglatikuk stood at the cash befuddled. "But how can one pay for what the land produces?"
The storeowner laughs and says, "You are an original! Forget it."
"Your son has been polluted by untamed spirits. I will look to my ancestors and ask for guidance on your behalf."
The storeowner appreciated the sentiments but was having none of it. "Take care, kid."
They began to walk the streets. Amidst the careless streetwalkers and reckless car drivers Noot popped the question.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Iglatikuk."
"Where are you from, Igla?"
"I am from Igloolik."
"And you're in search of Joe D?"
"Yes."
Noot could only nod his head. "You're an original alright."
Noot was not sure if he should laugh or slap Iglatikuk in the face. He could not bring himself to tell Iglatikuk that DiMaggio was dead. But he was instantly reminded of Igla's honest almost hopeless demeanor. Their short walk led them to another part of town and Noot needed a coffee. "Hang on, Igla. I need an espresso. You wait here."
But Iglatikuk was by nature an inquisitive person. He waited a few moments and followed Noot into the bar. The patrons were not sure about what they were seeing. It wasn't everyday they ran into an Inuit in their neighborhood.
Off to the side he saw pictures of cyclists and skiers on the wall. He glanced to another wall and saw endless photos of motorcycles, racecars and soccer teams. Decades of sports heroes hung on the walls. He quietly observed, "These are your ancestors."
He looked to the man behind the bar and asked, "Where is Joe DiMaggio?" The man let out a subdued chuckle. "Good point, kid. Maybe we should have Joe on the wall."
Noot reflected and just when he was about to dismiss the comment he thought about it. "I guess in a way they are ancestors."
Iglatikuk asked Noot if he could have a drink, "I am thirsty." Noot saw no harm in this and obliged.
"What have we got here?" said a man from one end of the bar. "A has-been baseball junkie and a freak."
"Who is that man?" Iglatikuk asked Noot. "Him?" Noot began to answer while smiling at the bartender. "He's a washed up sports writer and he doesn't even know it. Pay no attention to him."
Of course, Iglatikuk did pay observances to him. Snarling back at him were the words, "back off pretty boy."
"Why have you let your soul be invaded by forces of cynical tidings, sir?"
"You're kidding right?"
"I do not joke about such matters."
"Yeah well take it to someone who cares. I have a column to write for my brain dead readers."
With that wonderful remark, the journalist walked out. The bartender then leaned over to Noot and Iglatikuk with his arms folded, "Nobody likes that guy. You got balls kid."
"He is a gentleman with animosity and arrogance. It has corroded his mind."
"Are you going to…"
"Yes. I will."
Slowly the curious minds in the bar began to take a certain liking to Iglatikuk's innocent forthrightness. His broad smile was contagious. Soon enough they were all exchanging jokes and laughs. "…No way! I already have enough whalebones!" The roars of laughter were thunderous. "Hey, Vinnie this guy is priceless! Like beaver pelts!" shouted one patron. More laughter ensued.
"Iglatikuk observed how everyone was drinking their coffee and he imitated them. He wrapped his mittens around the small cup and in one good, clean gulp took it all in. The caffeine kicked Iglatikuk all the way back to Chesterfield Inlet.
"Iggy," said one person. "You need to pace yourself. Here, watch," as he smoothly drank."
"That is very good, Mario."
Noot got up and pointed to his watch. "I think it's time to go. We've got things to do. Right, Igla?"
"Oh yes. Good bye everyone!"
"You give 'em hell" one of the men at the bar told Igla.
The day was wounding down and Iglatikuk was preparing to make his way back to the kayak. Noot took him there and they began to talk a little more. "You never told me why you are looking for Joe DiMaggio, Igla,"
"It is something I must do."
"You know, I met him once."
"Really?"
"Yes. He was in Montreal taking in a Royals game if you can believe it. The Yankee Clipper watching baseball in the east-end of the city. I guess he was scouting the talent in the Dodgers organization?"
"Dodgers?"
"The Royals were the farm team of the Brooklyn Dodgers. At the time, they were the main rivals of the New York Yankees. As you know, Joltin' Joe was a Yankee."
"Farm team? What did they harvest?"
"Players. Anyway, DiMaggio was not there to watch the Royals. He was there to meet Jackie Robinson."
Writer's Note: This is not meant to be an historical fact. I repeat….
"How did you meet him?"
"Back then it was easy to talk to ball players. You could just walk up to anybody. DiMaggio was notoriously quiet but he seemed so much more relaxed up here. Maybe it was the air or something. So I just went up to him and said hello."
"What did he say?"
"I'll never forget the words. He said, "Do you speak English?"
"That sounds so thrilling! What did you reply?"
"I was nervous but calm at the same time. It's hard to describe. I asked him for an autograph and a cigarette. Maybe to show I was cool. He told me he didn’t smoke but he did arrange to get me a bat instead. Man, I could never replicate that feeling I had when I held that piece of wood."
"Like the feeling I get when I'm carving caribou antlers?"
Noot glanced at Igla. "Something like that - I guess."
"Did he meet this Jackie Robinson?"
"Of course he did. He was Joe DiMaggio."
Noot looked up and stared into nothing for a moment.
"Those were the days."
"What about now?"
Noot began to explain the history of baseball in the city but suddenly stopped. "Ah, forget it."
"Do you mind if I come to New York with you? It's been years since I have been back."
"Sure."
Noot detected that Iglatikuk was unsure of something. "What is it?"
"You never told me your name."
Noot laughed. "I didn't, eh? Noot Lajoie."
"What is your ancestry, Noot? Do you see them in the Northern Lights?"
Noot was taken slightly aback by the question. He hadn't been asked this in a long time. "Well, I'm of Irish-English stock on my mother's side. My grandmother was from Piemonte. My father was French-Canadian and a helluva a ball player, a catcher. He played for the Royals. His greatest moment was when he caught one inning for Don Drysdale.
He chuckles lightly and says, "Baseball played a huge role in my life."
Noot snapped out of his brief nostalgic trance. "I just want to pass by my place to pick up some essentials."
They went upstairs into Noot's apartment. Iglatikuk observed the place with a studious eye.
Within an hour they were back at the kayak.
"Am I too tall for this thing?" Noot asks.
"If Magnum fit into it so can you."
Writer's Note: For fear of some missing the reference, During a stint in the 1980s, Private Investigator Thomas Magnum was known to kayak on CBS.
"Man, I can't believe I'm doing this."
They pushed the kayak onto the water as people watched with a fascinated curious eye. They remained oblivious to what was around them.
Iglatikuk was staring at Noot while he paddled.
"What is it, Igla?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that. What's up?"
"You remind me of my friend Teevee."
"Really. How so? Who is he?"
"Teev vee is my cousin. You have a sense of internal balance like he did. Teevee sold Tundra for a living."
"Tundra? There's a demand for that?"
"Not really. I think his location was wrong. Not enough traffic. Location, location, location. He lost everything."
"Everything?"
"Yeah, his 5x6 kiosque was smashed up good by a polar bear after the recession."
"Do you know where you're going?" Noot asks.
"Don't worry. The river has eyes like the caribou."
Noot had no idea what that meant.
All he knew was that they were off to New York City in search of Joe Dimaggio.
"Hmm, LA. Too much for the man. So he's leaving the life he's come to know. He said he's going back to find what's left of his world. The world he left behind not so long ago…"
Noot was smoking as the wind gently cleansed his face. Iglatikuk paddled in silence as he watched Noot. "Noot."
"Yes."
"Who were the people on the photograph in your apartment?"
Noot was visibly shaken.
"Just some people."
"I can tell they meant something to you."
With his back to Iglatikuk he inconspicuously reached for his wallet and looked at a picture.
"My wife and daughter."
"You are married?"
"Was married."
"My wife left me. I wasn't the best husband or father."
"Do you still see them?"
"No?"
"Why?"
"…she's gone oh I, oh I'd better learn how to face it
she's gone oh I, oh I'd pay the devil to replace her
she's gone - what went wrong…"
"A few years back the city had a gang problem. A group calling themselves the Berserker Gang ran rampant across the land. Their authentic bear hats dripping with blood distinguished them. Anyway, one day my wife and kid were walking the streets when they were accosted by one of the gang members handing out pamphlets. Next thing I know she runs off with them and I haven't seen or heard of them since."
"That's awful. Whatever happened to the gang?"
Noot took a huge puff of his cigarette. "I hear they want to go legit and are organizing a political party in Winnipeg."
Iglatikuk looks at Noot's bag.
"Is that why you carry this hat?"
"You saw me put it in?"
Iglatikuk nods shyly.
"Have a look."
"Made in Malaysia? There are bears in Asia?"
Noot yanked the hat back.
"It's not the point. But thanks for listening. It helped."
"No problem. Would you like some seal blood pudding?"
"No thanks. I think I'll pass."
"How about you? Ever been in love?"
"Oh yes. Many times."
"Iglatikuk Valentino!"
"Valentino?"
"Yeah, you're like a regular Casanova."
"I don't get it."
"Never mind. Tell me more."
"I am in love with all things ethereal. The earth, wind and fire."
"They sure could funk it out."
"Funk?"
"Go on."
"Many times I have been grateful for all that is around me. My family, TeeVee, even the polar bear."
Noot had a hard time following him at first and then, "Oh, I get it! You've been in love with life!"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in God?"
"There is most certainly a higher force. This is why we must respect what we have not created."
"God can be a cool cat, eh?"
The sun was setting and they were still half a day away from New York City. Noot and Iglatikuk camped on the side of riverbank for the night. From afar people noticed them. The campfire was brilliant as they sat and talked. Soon the flame had extinguished and they were asleep.
"I was talking to Chuck and his Ghengis Khan suit and his wizards hat…. He spoke of his movie and how he was making a new soundtrack…she's a wild child…"
The Manhattan skyline was something to behold. Iglatikuk was simply moved to throat sing in honor of this marvel of modernity. "Quiet down. I think we should find a hotel," suggested Noot.
They stopped at the first hotel they saw. Trendy in its décor, the occupants were curiously bemused by the notion of an Inuit among them.
"How many people?" the girl at the counter asked with her eyes fixated on Iglatikuk.
"Two."
"One or two beds?"
Iglatikuk giggles at the question.
"Two." "That'll be $160. There's some ice for your friend in the hallway."
They settled in and soon Noot was sleeping on the bed. Iglatikuk wasn't tired. For a few minutes he paced up and down the room and later the hallway. Finally he shook any reservations he had about going onto the streets and went to explore the city.
Writer's Note: Where Midnight Cowboy met Afternoon Inuit.
New Yorkers were accustomed to eccentrics roaming their streets. One man was handing out pamphlets shouting, "Catch the Praying Fags! One night only! Best Gay Christian band on the East Coast!" For his part, Iglatikuk was different and they all noticed him.
Hunger began to set in. Iglatikuk walked into Wendy's. Before he could make sense of what he wanted the manager cried, "Are you here for the job? Look at you! What a kidder! Come in my office."
Iglatikuk followed him.
"I've got a feeling about you. You take chances. I like that. You're hired." Still perplexed, Iglatikuk got up.
"Oh, just one more thing. We are square here." "Square?" "You kill me! Marcy will get you your uniform. Get outta here, Punky Brewster!"
As Iglatikuk turned away the boss added screaming of laughter, "Hey, kid get a haircut and a real job!"
Marcy came by and smiled at Iglatikuk.
"You look like a medium."
"I was a rebel from the day I left school. Grew my hair long and broke all the rules…I sit and listen to my records all day with big ambitions…get a hair cut and get a real job."
Within minutes Iglatikuk was behind the counter still in his parka. He noticed all the hamburgers were square and the remark made earlier by his new manager suddenly made sense to him. He felt empowered. His first client approached.
"Hello."
"Yeah, give me a round burger, weirdo."
It took some water for Iglatikuk to come to but a headache had set in in the spot where he hit the counter before he fainted.
On his break he went for a walk. By the window of a posh jewelry store he stopped and stared at some diamonds displayed. He overheard a lady next to him speaking on her cell phone. Without interrupting her conversation she looked him up and down "Yes, I know. Technology is turning the world into a terrible place. I'll meet you at the computer store in fifteen minutes. I need to buy a new laptop. See you later."
She gave Iglatikuk a smirk and walked into the store.
Not realizing he had to return to work he found his way back to the hotel room.
But along the way a picture in a music store caught his eye. He walked in the establishment.
The man behind the counter amusingly looked at Iglatikuk up and down.
"Can I help you buddy?"
"Yes, who is the man in the window?"
Unsure of what Iglatikuk meant he walked to the window.
"You mean this?"
"Yes."
"This is Bruce Springsteen."
"Oh."
"Have you ever heard of him before?"
"No. Just Joe DiMaggio."
The man put the record away.
"May I listen to him?"
The man kindly obliged. "What the hell. I though I've seen it all."
"I'll play this song," the man said.
Iglatikuk waited eagerly and when the notes began to fill the room it was an epiphany of sorts for the young Inuit.
"I like it."
"I'm glad you like it, kid."
"There's a spirit to him. Yeah, he's all New York."
"I would like to take him home."
"You're not from around here are you?"
"No. I am from the Arctic."
"You don't have money do you?"
Iglatikuk remembered Noot talking about this economic caveat with the apple back in Montreal.
"I have 24 cents."
"Canadian?"
"Yes."
The man laughs. "You're something else."
Another song came on. The man looked outside and saw it was a famous sunny New York day.
"Take it. I have four copies. Besides, something tells you will cherish the record."
"Thank you sir. Thank you."
Iglatikuk realized he did not have a place to play the record.
"But…"
"You have nowhere to play it?"
"Well, it's just that I would have liked to listen to it on my journey back."
"Tell you what. Let's record this on a tape and I'll give you the tape recorder. The darn thing is 30 years old and I was going to throw it out at some point."
"Sir, I do not know how to repay you."
"Something tells me you will."
Iglatikuk left the store and did eventually reach the hotel.
"You had me worried, Igla. Where have you been? What's that?"
"It's Bruce Spinksteen."
"You mean Springsteen. How did you pay for this. You didn't steal this did you?"
"No, no Noot. The elders would banish me into the forest for such actions."
"Yeah well you're not with the elders now."
"I have taken employment at a place that serves strange square meat with bread."
"What are you talking about?" Iglatikuk looked outside to see if he could catch a glimpse of the sign. He was able to point at it. "Over there. The one with the red haired girl."
"Wendy's? You got hired at Wendy's? Man, they must be desperate."
"I like the people. They are kind." "Igla. You are an illegal alien here. It's against the law to work without proper identification. At least it used to be. I'm not sure anymore."
"Noot. What does 'damn taxes' mean?"
"What?"
"I heard someone say this while they looked at something called a pay check."
Noot laughed. "Just be glad you don't know. Trust me."
"I must get back to work."
"Igla…"
"No, really. I left my mittens behind."
"I'll go get them. I hope no one took them. It's a cold world out there."
"Not like in the Arctic it isn't," Iglatikuk snickered under his breath.
"Don't follow me."
Noot made his way to Wendy's and searched for the mittens. Marcy approached him and asked if she could help him. Her gaze struck Noot. He felt a sudden surge overcome him.
"Uh, yeah. My friend…"
"Left his mittens behind?"
"How did you know?"
"I dunno. I just did."
Forty-five minutes later Noot arrived at the Hotel. Iglatikuk stood up and asked where Noot had been.
"Here are you mittens."
"Your eyes."
"What about them?"
"They are filled with a gleam I have not seen."
"Really?"
"It is beaming with New Hope."
"Well, I'll be darned. You deduced this by just looking at my eyes?"
"Yes."
"I guess you can't be fooled. I met someone."
"Joe Dimaggio?"
"No. Cripes, it's not all about Dimaggio! Anyway, I met a girl. Your former colleague, Marcy."
"That is great, Noot. I am pleased to hear this. But I must find Joe DiMaggio."
"We will. Tomorrow. Let's just take it easy the rest of the day."
That night Iglatikuk was awake as he usually was. He looked to see if Noot was sound asleep. When he saw that he was he turned on the television and began to watch. Flipping through channels he settled on a station that played silver screen classic movies. He sat at the end of the bed and curiously watched a Buster Keaton silent short.
Fifteen minutes later he could not believe his eyes. There he was! A commercial for a baseball documentary had Joe DiMaggio on the screen in front of him. "Joe DiMaggio. We shall soon meet!" he said to himself. Noot jolted in his sleep. Iglatikuk looked back and lowered the volume.
Morning came and Iglatikuk was already standing waiting for Noot as he slowly awoke. "Eager aren't we?"
"Noot, I saw the most wonderful thing while you slept."
"Tell me all about it while I get ready for breakfast."
"Mr. Joe DiMaggio was on television!"
"Was he? On what show?"
"I do not know. All I know is that some gentleman named Frank Sinatra called him a great friend. Who is Frank Sinatra?"
"A singer."
"Did he throat sing?"
"Probably. He could do it all."
"Oh. He sounds most interesting. Maybe we can go meet him too. But first where can I find the Yankee Clipper?"
As Noot was paying he spotted Marcy in the lobby. He gave Iglatikuk the money and hurriedly went for her.
"Hi!"
"Hi!"
"What brings you here?"
Blushed and flushed Marcy shyly replied, "Well, you told me you were staying here and, well I hope you don't mind…"
"No, no. Not at all. We were just heading out."
"Oh, ok. I have your friend’s first and last pay check. I figured he wasn't coming back."
"Great. Thanks."
Noot was then hit with an idea, "Marcy, why don't you join us?"
Marcy hesitated but before she could say anything Noot interjected with a boyish smile, "We're heading to Yankee Stadium."
"Since you put it that way. Sure!"
"Hey, Igla. Marcy is gonna join us."
"This is good news. But where…"
Noot cut him off, "Well, the most logical place to start is in the Bronx. We'll take a cab."
They reached the hallowed grounds of Yankee Stadium later that beautiful fall morning. The Giants were in town for a three game set.
"Where do we go?"
Noot lit a cigarette and said "I'll be damned if I know. This ain't Olympic Stadium."
They hung around the entrance where the players used to enter the stadium. Iglatikuk caught a glimpse of player and asked where they could find Joe DiMaggio.
"Sorry buddy I don't sign autographs for insane people," answered one of the players.
Iglatikuk paid no heed to what was said. Noot studied the place and figured out a way to sneak in.
Just as they were about to go in Iglatikuk noticed a boy waiting around. "What is he doing?" "He's waiting for an autograph," Noot explained.
At that moment a player emerged and the child politely asked. "Mr. Butts?"
"What is it kid?"
"Could you please sign my ball?"
"You only have one?" the player said as he chucked at his answer.
The kid didn't get the joke and gazed at the player.
" Take it with my agent. I don't do free signings kid."
The boy turned around dejected and walked away. This marked Iglatikuk. "I do not understand?" Noot watched silently as the player moved about with an obnoxious swagger. "You know what? I don't either."
They continued their search. Another player on his mobile phone briefly interrupted it. "Man, you had the see the pussy on my lap…" He suddenly stops as he sees Iglatikuk, "Man, you have to see what is right in front me. I'll call you back."
"Bro, what is this funk all about?"
"Funk?"
"A parka? In Yankee Stadium? Man, I thought I've seen it all."
"We are looking for Joe DiMaggio. Do you know where we can find him?"
"Joe DiMaggio? Joltin' Joe? You mean Joe fricken Di Maggio?"
"Yes."
"You tell me why I shouldn't call the cops on you boys."
Noot interjected, "Please, don't do that. My friend would like to know where the plaques honoring Yankee legends are."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you guys there. Let me get my bat. I may as well get some swings in."
The ball player pointed them in the right direction and said, "Welcome to the ancestral hallowed Yankee grounds."
"Thanks," Noot said.
"Sure thing. I'll let you guys absorb the history."
Igaltikuk was speechless.
Out of nowhere Yogi Berra darted by as he tipped his cap to the threesome. Iglatikuk looked at him with awe as he disappeared into the lush green field.
He spotted Joe DiMaggio's plaque. Then, he pulled out his card out of his pocket.
Noot quietly stepped forward, "Listen, Igla. I didn't want to tell you but…"
"I know. He is no longer with us."
"Hang on. So why all this?"
"His flesh is gone but I wanted to see if his spirit remains."
They looked over to the field and stood together in silence.
"His spirit has gone hasn't it, Igla?"
"It has."
"What's in his place?"
"Nothing. There is but a silent void. It's deafening."
"Welcome to progress and civilization my interloping pal."
"All is not lost. The right souls need the ticket back in."
"Are we experiencing temporary insanity?"
"Perhaps. But even the sky does not remain dark."
Noot put his arm around Iglatikuk as they slowly walked away in their own thoughts.
"…My guide and I crossed over and began
to mount that little known and lightless road
to ascend into the shining world again.
He first, I second, without thought of rest
we climbed the dark until we reached the point
where a round opening brought in sight the blest
and beauteous shining of the Heavenly cars.
And we walked out once more beneath the Stars."
They all made their way to the kayak. Iglatikuk began to push without waiting for Noot.
"Hey, what about me?"
"Are you not staying?"
"How do you know?"
"Your soul spoke to me in the cab."
Marcy looked and laughed, "You truly are an original, Igla. I don't know you but my heart is pounding with heaviness. I'm going to miss you."
"I shall miss you too, Marcy."
Iglatikuk looked over at Noot who was incapable of holding back a tear or two.
"Take your new beginning my dear friend and run free like the wolf."
"I will, Igla."
They hugged.
Writer's note: I'm crying. It took me 3 minutes to regain my composure.
"You take care of yourself. Watch out for those icebergs."
There was a pause.
"That is not funny, Noot."
"I know."
Noot pushed Igla into the water.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Marcy asked Noot.
"Are you kidding me? He found his way to New York City on a fricken kayak!"
On the waters Iglatikuk was finally heading home. He adjusted the headphones and pressed play. He could taste the walrus in a blanket now. Kayaking against the wind, his journey was over.
"I stood stone-like at midnight suspended in my masquerade, I combed my hair til it was just right and commanded the night brigade…."
Writer's Note: I have selected Joe DiMaggio for my own enjoyment. Some may wonder there has to be a reason but no there isn't. Sometimes things don't have to have meaning. Now back to the story.
On an uncharacteristically warm autumn day, as Iglatikuk was carving an inuksuk while sharing whale blubber with his brother, his father approached him. "It is time my blonde son for you to discover your soul," he said, as he slammed the head of a caribou before them. Iglatikuk knelt before it and began throat singing.
"No, stupid. I mean it is time for you to meet the qallunaaq - white people. The Northern Lights have shown that our ancient ancestors may very well summon this card you carry with you. There is a kayak for you waiting. Take it and let the spirits guide you to a metropolis called New York."
Iglatikuk, visibly apprehensive to take this journey, was mildly defiant about having to use a kayak. "Can I take L'il Qajait instead?" "My son, use the kayak." Iglatikuk was not sure how to handle his objection. "I can not leave my brother Little Kelikvak. I will miss mother dearly. How shall I take care of them from such far places?" he nervously asked his father.
"They are of no concern to you now. Upon your return you will be a man. Don't worry," as he smiled to caress his son, "Mother will be here to cook you your favorite meal."
The thought of walrus in a blanket on a bed of seaweed excited Iglatikuk. "Father, I will find myself on this journey. But first I must go dig a hole in the ice and let a big one go."
Morning rapidly arrived and Iglatikuk was on his way. Tears were flowing like the mighty Mackenzie. It was -40c so the tears turned into little rounded icicles. Carefully weaving through the relaxed rivers in quiet revelation, he ignored the tears.
"We were born before the wind. Also younger that the sun ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic…"
It was a solitary trip. Iglatikuk was overwhelmed by the sheer gorgeous power of water and land. It was also time to lay rest. He industriously constructed an igloo on an ice carpet that was rendered immobile wedged between two giant ice masses. Proudly he shouts, "I am the Van Horne of my people!"
When it was time to lay his laurels he was wide-awake under the dancing stars. For four long days he paddled and lived in unison with nature just like his ancestors did. He survived on nothing but arctic char caught with his kakivak. On the fifth day - land.
A man was standing on the beach smoking a cigarette while he adjusted his tuque. Upon spotting Iglatikuk reeling in his kayak he barely believed his eyes.
Iglatikuk approached the man. He was polite and timid. "Excuse me sir. Where is the nearest Coureur de bois outpost?" The man stood silent as the cigarette dangled listlessly on his lip. "Er…"
His colleague attentively interrupted and stepped in. "Eskimo pie. Didn't you hear? The Hudson's Bay Company bought out the coureur de bois in 1733 for $3. I bought some shares when HBC spun-them out last year. Darn thing has yet to pay dividends."
"Enough, Dougie. The kid is lost. This is no time for your sarcasm, eh?"
"I am not an Eskimo. I am an Inuit."
"Well, you don't look Inooit. You're kinda tall. Almost goofy looking," observed the man with the tuque.
"Good genes I suppose. What is this sweater you have on?" Iglatikuk retorted with diplomatic skill.
"It's an Edmonton Eskimo football jersey."
"I like it even though it has an offensive name. Where can I get one?"
Dougie gestured to his friend. "Ah, c'mon Gordie. Your brother works for the Esks. He can always get you another one."
And so it was. Iglatikuk's first encounter with the qallunaaq was a successful one. "Thank you. I will ask the shaman's to perform a ceremony for your gentle souls tonight."
Privately, Iglatikuk was confused as he lamented the buy-out of the adventurous Frenchmen. "Darn Elders. They really need to get the Internet!"
Later that day he consulted his map in the streets of Edmonton to plot his Eastward movement. "I must think like the caribou," he pondered with his finger tapping his lower lip.
He finally settled on a scenic route via the Prairies to Montreal. "When all else fails my Elders always taught me to follow the Trans-Canada. It has eyes like the caribou."
It is in this unique city where Iglatikuk came to befriend Noot. A former gate master at DeLormier Downs with remedial bilingual skills, Noot was a baseball aficionado.
"Nice parka," were his first words to Iglatikuk.
"Thank you. Always wear fur because you never know."
"Hmm. Never though of that. And that?" Noot asked.
"This is a dream catcher. It will catch what I am looking for."
A friendship was now possibly in progress.
"What is that strange item you are eating?" Noot looked at the fruit bemused and answered, "This? It's an apple. A Granny Smith to be exact." Could you please kindly direct me to a place where I can take one? I am terribly hungry."
The strange boy before him took Noot. "I've got nothing else to do," he murmured to himself. Noot escorted the young Inuit to a local grocery store. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he felt sorry for Iglatikuk. Maybe he saw and felt his pristine and gentle aura.
The owner of the store too, for his part, could not help but be intrigued by the obscure Inuit, "Looka here. Now you're an original."
Iglatikuk shrugged his shoulders; "No I am not. I am but a mere culmination of my ancestors."
"Oh. Aren't we all? That'll be a heavy 24 cents."
Ignoring the request Iglatikuk offered the storeowner an observation; "I see much distress in your eyes."
At that moment a man cursed and bustled his way in and interrupted the conversation between the three men.
"I need more money," he curtly told the storeowner.
Quietly he handed some cash over to the man. "Dammit Dad! I don't need nickels. I need more. Christ, you know I own a club."
"Son, it's been a slow year and I just don't have that kind of money." He looked at his father in disgust and walked out.
Embarrassed the storeowner looked at Noot.
"You know, I thought you looked familiar when you walked in."
"Familiar?"
"Didn't you used to work at Jarry Park?"
"Yes."
"I used to take my son - the lad you just saw - to many games out there. Coco Laboy was his favorite player." He looked outside "We haven't spoken in years."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Iglatikuk sensing the tension interjected, "I am going to New York to find Joe DiMaggio. Do you know him?"
The confused storeowner looked at Noot who can only offer a smile.
"The Yankee Clipper? Who doesn't? You know, I was there when the streak ended in Baltimore. Where I'm originally from."
"Streak?"
"You don't know about the streak? Kid, you have some reading to do if you want to get to know DiMaggio."
Noot realized that basic hard economic realties were not his new friend's forte. The concept of exchanging money for goods and services had clearly bypassed Iglatikuk.
"I don't know where you're from kid but you have to pay this gentleman for that apple." Iglatikuk stood at the cash befuddled. "But how can one pay for what the land produces?"
The storeowner laughs and says, "You are an original! Forget it."
"Your son has been polluted by untamed spirits. I will look to my ancestors and ask for guidance on your behalf."
The storeowner appreciated the sentiments but was having none of it. "Take care, kid."
They began to walk the streets. Amidst the careless streetwalkers and reckless car drivers Noot popped the question.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Iglatikuk."
"Where are you from, Igla?"
"I am from Igloolik."
"And you're in search of Joe D?"
"Yes."
Noot could only nod his head. "You're an original alright."
Noot was not sure if he should laugh or slap Iglatikuk in the face. He could not bring himself to tell Iglatikuk that DiMaggio was dead. But he was instantly reminded of Igla's honest almost hopeless demeanor. Their short walk led them to another part of town and Noot needed a coffee. "Hang on, Igla. I need an espresso. You wait here."
But Iglatikuk was by nature an inquisitive person. He waited a few moments and followed Noot into the bar. The patrons were not sure about what they were seeing. It wasn't everyday they ran into an Inuit in their neighborhood.
Off to the side he saw pictures of cyclists and skiers on the wall. He glanced to another wall and saw endless photos of motorcycles, racecars and soccer teams. Decades of sports heroes hung on the walls. He quietly observed, "These are your ancestors."
He looked to the man behind the bar and asked, "Where is Joe DiMaggio?" The man let out a subdued chuckle. "Good point, kid. Maybe we should have Joe on the wall."
Noot reflected and just when he was about to dismiss the comment he thought about it. "I guess in a way they are ancestors."
Iglatikuk asked Noot if he could have a drink, "I am thirsty." Noot saw no harm in this and obliged.
"What have we got here?" said a man from one end of the bar. "A has-been baseball junkie and a freak."
"Who is that man?" Iglatikuk asked Noot. "Him?" Noot began to answer while smiling at the bartender. "He's a washed up sports writer and he doesn't even know it. Pay no attention to him."
Of course, Iglatikuk did pay observances to him. Snarling back at him were the words, "back off pretty boy."
"Why have you let your soul be invaded by forces of cynical tidings, sir?"
"You're kidding right?"
"I do not joke about such matters."
"Yeah well take it to someone who cares. I have a column to write for my brain dead readers."
With that wonderful remark, the journalist walked out. The bartender then leaned over to Noot and Iglatikuk with his arms folded, "Nobody likes that guy. You got balls kid."
"He is a gentleman with animosity and arrogance. It has corroded his mind."
"Are you going to…"
"Yes. I will."
Slowly the curious minds in the bar began to take a certain liking to Iglatikuk's innocent forthrightness. His broad smile was contagious. Soon enough they were all exchanging jokes and laughs. "…No way! I already have enough whalebones!" The roars of laughter were thunderous. "Hey, Vinnie this guy is priceless! Like beaver pelts!" shouted one patron. More laughter ensued.
"Iglatikuk observed how everyone was drinking their coffee and he imitated them. He wrapped his mittens around the small cup and in one good, clean gulp took it all in. The caffeine kicked Iglatikuk all the way back to Chesterfield Inlet.
"Iggy," said one person. "You need to pace yourself. Here, watch," as he smoothly drank."
"That is very good, Mario."
Noot got up and pointed to his watch. "I think it's time to go. We've got things to do. Right, Igla?"
"Oh yes. Good bye everyone!"
"You give 'em hell" one of the men at the bar told Igla.
The day was wounding down and Iglatikuk was preparing to make his way back to the kayak. Noot took him there and they began to talk a little more. "You never told me why you are looking for Joe DiMaggio, Igla,"
"It is something I must do."
"You know, I met him once."
"Really?"
"Yes. He was in Montreal taking in a Royals game if you can believe it. The Yankee Clipper watching baseball in the east-end of the city. I guess he was scouting the talent in the Dodgers organization?"
"Dodgers?"
"The Royals were the farm team of the Brooklyn Dodgers. At the time, they were the main rivals of the New York Yankees. As you know, Joltin' Joe was a Yankee."
"Farm team? What did they harvest?"
"Players. Anyway, DiMaggio was not there to watch the Royals. He was there to meet Jackie Robinson."
Writer's Note: This is not meant to be an historical fact. I repeat….
"How did you meet him?"
"Back then it was easy to talk to ball players. You could just walk up to anybody. DiMaggio was notoriously quiet but he seemed so much more relaxed up here. Maybe it was the air or something. So I just went up to him and said hello."
"What did he say?"
"I'll never forget the words. He said, "Do you speak English?"
"That sounds so thrilling! What did you reply?"
"I was nervous but calm at the same time. It's hard to describe. I asked him for an autograph and a cigarette. Maybe to show I was cool. He told me he didn’t smoke but he did arrange to get me a bat instead. Man, I could never replicate that feeling I had when I held that piece of wood."
"Like the feeling I get when I'm carving caribou antlers?"
Noot glanced at Igla. "Something like that - I guess."
"Did he meet this Jackie Robinson?"
"Of course he did. He was Joe DiMaggio."
Noot looked up and stared into nothing for a moment.
"Those were the days."
"What about now?"
Noot began to explain the history of baseball in the city but suddenly stopped. "Ah, forget it."
"Do you mind if I come to New York with you? It's been years since I have been back."
"Sure."
Noot detected that Iglatikuk was unsure of something. "What is it?"
"You never told me your name."
Noot laughed. "I didn't, eh? Noot Lajoie."
"What is your ancestry, Noot? Do you see them in the Northern Lights?"
Noot was taken slightly aback by the question. He hadn't been asked this in a long time. "Well, I'm of Irish-English stock on my mother's side. My grandmother was from Piemonte. My father was French-Canadian and a helluva a ball player, a catcher. He played for the Royals. His greatest moment was when he caught one inning for Don Drysdale.
He chuckles lightly and says, "Baseball played a huge role in my life."
Noot snapped out of his brief nostalgic trance. "I just want to pass by my place to pick up some essentials."
They went upstairs into Noot's apartment. Iglatikuk observed the place with a studious eye.
Within an hour they were back at the kayak.
"Am I too tall for this thing?" Noot asks.
"If Magnum fit into it so can you."
Writer's Note: For fear of some missing the reference, During a stint in the 1980s, Private Investigator Thomas Magnum was known to kayak on CBS.
"Man, I can't believe I'm doing this."
They pushed the kayak onto the water as people watched with a fascinated curious eye. They remained oblivious to what was around them.
Iglatikuk was staring at Noot while he paddled.
"What is it, Igla?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that. What's up?"
"You remind me of my friend Teevee."
"Really. How so? Who is he?"
"Teev vee is my cousin. You have a sense of internal balance like he did. Teevee sold Tundra for a living."
"Tundra? There's a demand for that?"
"Not really. I think his location was wrong. Not enough traffic. Location, location, location. He lost everything."
"Everything?"
"Yeah, his 5x6 kiosque was smashed up good by a polar bear after the recession."
"Do you know where you're going?" Noot asks.
"Don't worry. The river has eyes like the caribou."
Noot had no idea what that meant.
All he knew was that they were off to New York City in search of Joe Dimaggio.
"Hmm, LA. Too much for the man. So he's leaving the life he's come to know. He said he's going back to find what's left of his world. The world he left behind not so long ago…"
Noot was smoking as the wind gently cleansed his face. Iglatikuk paddled in silence as he watched Noot. "Noot."
"Yes."
"Who were the people on the photograph in your apartment?"
Noot was visibly shaken.
"Just some people."
"I can tell they meant something to you."
With his back to Iglatikuk he inconspicuously reached for his wallet and looked at a picture.
"My wife and daughter."
"You are married?"
"Was married."
"My wife left me. I wasn't the best husband or father."
"Do you still see them?"
"No?"
"Why?"
"…she's gone oh I, oh I'd better learn how to face it
she's gone oh I, oh I'd pay the devil to replace her
she's gone - what went wrong…"
"A few years back the city had a gang problem. A group calling themselves the Berserker Gang ran rampant across the land. Their authentic bear hats dripping with blood distinguished them. Anyway, one day my wife and kid were walking the streets when they were accosted by one of the gang members handing out pamphlets. Next thing I know she runs off with them and I haven't seen or heard of them since."
"That's awful. Whatever happened to the gang?"
Noot took a huge puff of his cigarette. "I hear they want to go legit and are organizing a political party in Winnipeg."
Iglatikuk looks at Noot's bag.
"Is that why you carry this hat?"
"You saw me put it in?"
Iglatikuk nods shyly.
"Have a look."
"Made in Malaysia? There are bears in Asia?"
Noot yanked the hat back.
"It's not the point. But thanks for listening. It helped."
"No problem. Would you like some seal blood pudding?"
"No thanks. I think I'll pass."
"How about you? Ever been in love?"
"Oh yes. Many times."
"Iglatikuk Valentino!"
"Valentino?"
"Yeah, you're like a regular Casanova."
"I don't get it."
"Never mind. Tell me more."
"I am in love with all things ethereal. The earth, wind and fire."
"They sure could funk it out."
"Funk?"
"Go on."
"Many times I have been grateful for all that is around me. My family, TeeVee, even the polar bear."
Noot had a hard time following him at first and then, "Oh, I get it! You've been in love with life!"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in God?"
"There is most certainly a higher force. This is why we must respect what we have not created."
"God can be a cool cat, eh?"
The sun was setting and they were still half a day away from New York City. Noot and Iglatikuk camped on the side of riverbank for the night. From afar people noticed them. The campfire was brilliant as they sat and talked. Soon the flame had extinguished and they were asleep.
"I was talking to Chuck and his Ghengis Khan suit and his wizards hat…. He spoke of his movie and how he was making a new soundtrack…she's a wild child…"
The Manhattan skyline was something to behold. Iglatikuk was simply moved to throat sing in honor of this marvel of modernity. "Quiet down. I think we should find a hotel," suggested Noot.
They stopped at the first hotel they saw. Trendy in its décor, the occupants were curiously bemused by the notion of an Inuit among them.
"How many people?" the girl at the counter asked with her eyes fixated on Iglatikuk.
"Two."
"One or two beds?"
Iglatikuk giggles at the question.
"Two." "That'll be $160. There's some ice for your friend in the hallway."
They settled in and soon Noot was sleeping on the bed. Iglatikuk wasn't tired. For a few minutes he paced up and down the room and later the hallway. Finally he shook any reservations he had about going onto the streets and went to explore the city.
Writer's Note: Where Midnight Cowboy met Afternoon Inuit.
New Yorkers were accustomed to eccentrics roaming their streets. One man was handing out pamphlets shouting, "Catch the Praying Fags! One night only! Best Gay Christian band on the East Coast!" For his part, Iglatikuk was different and they all noticed him.
Hunger began to set in. Iglatikuk walked into Wendy's. Before he could make sense of what he wanted the manager cried, "Are you here for the job? Look at you! What a kidder! Come in my office."
Iglatikuk followed him.
"I've got a feeling about you. You take chances. I like that. You're hired." Still perplexed, Iglatikuk got up.
"Oh, just one more thing. We are square here." "Square?" "You kill me! Marcy will get you your uniform. Get outta here, Punky Brewster!"
As Iglatikuk turned away the boss added screaming of laughter, "Hey, kid get a haircut and a real job!"
Marcy came by and smiled at Iglatikuk.
"You look like a medium."
"I was a rebel from the day I left school. Grew my hair long and broke all the rules…I sit and listen to my records all day with big ambitions…get a hair cut and get a real job."
Within minutes Iglatikuk was behind the counter still in his parka. He noticed all the hamburgers were square and the remark made earlier by his new manager suddenly made sense to him. He felt empowered. His first client approached.
"Hello."
"Yeah, give me a round burger, weirdo."
It took some water for Iglatikuk to come to but a headache had set in in the spot where he hit the counter before he fainted.
On his break he went for a walk. By the window of a posh jewelry store he stopped and stared at some diamonds displayed. He overheard a lady next to him speaking on her cell phone. Without interrupting her conversation she looked him up and down "Yes, I know. Technology is turning the world into a terrible place. I'll meet you at the computer store in fifteen minutes. I need to buy a new laptop. See you later."
She gave Iglatikuk a smirk and walked into the store.
Not realizing he had to return to work he found his way back to the hotel room.
But along the way a picture in a music store caught his eye. He walked in the establishment.
The man behind the counter amusingly looked at Iglatikuk up and down.
"Can I help you buddy?"
"Yes, who is the man in the window?"
Unsure of what Iglatikuk meant he walked to the window.
"You mean this?"
"Yes."
"This is Bruce Springsteen."
"Oh."
"Have you ever heard of him before?"
"No. Just Joe DiMaggio."
The man put the record away.
"May I listen to him?"
The man kindly obliged. "What the hell. I though I've seen it all."
"I'll play this song," the man said.
Iglatikuk waited eagerly and when the notes began to fill the room it was an epiphany of sorts for the young Inuit.
"I like it."
"I'm glad you like it, kid."
"There's a spirit to him. Yeah, he's all New York."
"I would like to take him home."
"You're not from around here are you?"
"No. I am from the Arctic."
"You don't have money do you?"
Iglatikuk remembered Noot talking about this economic caveat with the apple back in Montreal.
"I have 24 cents."
"Canadian?"
"Yes."
The man laughs. "You're something else."
Another song came on. The man looked outside and saw it was a famous sunny New York day.
"Take it. I have four copies. Besides, something tells you will cherish the record."
"Thank you sir. Thank you."
Iglatikuk realized he did not have a place to play the record.
"But…"
"You have nowhere to play it?"
"Well, it's just that I would have liked to listen to it on my journey back."
"Tell you what. Let's record this on a tape and I'll give you the tape recorder. The darn thing is 30 years old and I was going to throw it out at some point."
"Sir, I do not know how to repay you."
"Something tells me you will."
Iglatikuk left the store and did eventually reach the hotel.
"You had me worried, Igla. Where have you been? What's that?"
"It's Bruce Spinksteen."
"You mean Springsteen. How did you pay for this. You didn't steal this did you?"
"No, no Noot. The elders would banish me into the forest for such actions."
"Yeah well you're not with the elders now."
"I have taken employment at a place that serves strange square meat with bread."
"What are you talking about?" Iglatikuk looked outside to see if he could catch a glimpse of the sign. He was able to point at it. "Over there. The one with the red haired girl."
"Wendy's? You got hired at Wendy's? Man, they must be desperate."
"I like the people. They are kind." "Igla. You are an illegal alien here. It's against the law to work without proper identification. At least it used to be. I'm not sure anymore."
"Noot. What does 'damn taxes' mean?"
"What?"
"I heard someone say this while they looked at something called a pay check."
Noot laughed. "Just be glad you don't know. Trust me."
"I must get back to work."
"Igla…"
"No, really. I left my mittens behind."
"I'll go get them. I hope no one took them. It's a cold world out there."
"Not like in the Arctic it isn't," Iglatikuk snickered under his breath.
"Don't follow me."
Noot made his way to Wendy's and searched for the mittens. Marcy approached him and asked if she could help him. Her gaze struck Noot. He felt a sudden surge overcome him.
"Uh, yeah. My friend…"
"Left his mittens behind?"
"How did you know?"
"I dunno. I just did."
Forty-five minutes later Noot arrived at the Hotel. Iglatikuk stood up and asked where Noot had been.
"Here are you mittens."
"Your eyes."
"What about them?"
"They are filled with a gleam I have not seen."
"Really?"
"It is beaming with New Hope."
"Well, I'll be darned. You deduced this by just looking at my eyes?"
"Yes."
"I guess you can't be fooled. I met someone."
"Joe Dimaggio?"
"No. Cripes, it's not all about Dimaggio! Anyway, I met a girl. Your former colleague, Marcy."
"That is great, Noot. I am pleased to hear this. But I must find Joe DiMaggio."
"We will. Tomorrow. Let's just take it easy the rest of the day."
That night Iglatikuk was awake as he usually was. He looked to see if Noot was sound asleep. When he saw that he was he turned on the television and began to watch. Flipping through channels he settled on a station that played silver screen classic movies. He sat at the end of the bed and curiously watched a Buster Keaton silent short.
Fifteen minutes later he could not believe his eyes. There he was! A commercial for a baseball documentary had Joe DiMaggio on the screen in front of him. "Joe DiMaggio. We shall soon meet!" he said to himself. Noot jolted in his sleep. Iglatikuk looked back and lowered the volume.
Morning came and Iglatikuk was already standing waiting for Noot as he slowly awoke. "Eager aren't we?"
"Noot, I saw the most wonderful thing while you slept."
"Tell me all about it while I get ready for breakfast."
"Mr. Joe DiMaggio was on television!"
"Was he? On what show?"
"I do not know. All I know is that some gentleman named Frank Sinatra called him a great friend. Who is Frank Sinatra?"
"A singer."
"Did he throat sing?"
"Probably. He could do it all."
"Oh. He sounds most interesting. Maybe we can go meet him too. But first where can I find the Yankee Clipper?"
As Noot was paying he spotted Marcy in the lobby. He gave Iglatikuk the money and hurriedly went for her.
"Hi!"
"Hi!"
"What brings you here?"
Blushed and flushed Marcy shyly replied, "Well, you told me you were staying here and, well I hope you don't mind…"
"No, no. Not at all. We were just heading out."
"Oh, ok. I have your friend’s first and last pay check. I figured he wasn't coming back."
"Great. Thanks."
Noot was then hit with an idea, "Marcy, why don't you join us?"
Marcy hesitated but before she could say anything Noot interjected with a boyish smile, "We're heading to Yankee Stadium."
"Since you put it that way. Sure!"
"Hey, Igla. Marcy is gonna join us."
"This is good news. But where…"
Noot cut him off, "Well, the most logical place to start is in the Bronx. We'll take a cab."
They reached the hallowed grounds of Yankee Stadium later that beautiful fall morning. The Giants were in town for a three game set.
"Where do we go?"
Noot lit a cigarette and said "I'll be damned if I know. This ain't Olympic Stadium."
They hung around the entrance where the players used to enter the stadium. Iglatikuk caught a glimpse of player and asked where they could find Joe DiMaggio.
"Sorry buddy I don't sign autographs for insane people," answered one of the players.
Iglatikuk paid no heed to what was said. Noot studied the place and figured out a way to sneak in.
Just as they were about to go in Iglatikuk noticed a boy waiting around. "What is he doing?" "He's waiting for an autograph," Noot explained.
At that moment a player emerged and the child politely asked. "Mr. Butts?"
"What is it kid?"
"Could you please sign my ball?"
"You only have one?" the player said as he chucked at his answer.
The kid didn't get the joke and gazed at the player.
" Take it with my agent. I don't do free signings kid."
The boy turned around dejected and walked away. This marked Iglatikuk. "I do not understand?" Noot watched silently as the player moved about with an obnoxious swagger. "You know what? I don't either."
They continued their search. Another player on his mobile phone briefly interrupted it. "Man, you had the see the pussy on my lap…" He suddenly stops as he sees Iglatikuk, "Man, you have to see what is right in front me. I'll call you back."
"Bro, what is this funk all about?"
"Funk?"
"A parka? In Yankee Stadium? Man, I thought I've seen it all."
"We are looking for Joe DiMaggio. Do you know where we can find him?"
"Joe DiMaggio? Joltin' Joe? You mean Joe fricken Di Maggio?"
"Yes."
"You tell me why I shouldn't call the cops on you boys."
Noot interjected, "Please, don't do that. My friend would like to know where the plaques honoring Yankee legends are."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you guys there. Let me get my bat. I may as well get some swings in."
The ball player pointed them in the right direction and said, "Welcome to the ancestral hallowed Yankee grounds."
"Thanks," Noot said.
"Sure thing. I'll let you guys absorb the history."
Igaltikuk was speechless.
Out of nowhere Yogi Berra darted by as he tipped his cap to the threesome. Iglatikuk looked at him with awe as he disappeared into the lush green field.
He spotted Joe DiMaggio's plaque. Then, he pulled out his card out of his pocket.
Noot quietly stepped forward, "Listen, Igla. I didn't want to tell you but…"
"I know. He is no longer with us."
"Hang on. So why all this?"
"His flesh is gone but I wanted to see if his spirit remains."
They looked over to the field and stood together in silence.
"His spirit has gone hasn't it, Igla?"
"It has."
"What's in his place?"
"Nothing. There is but a silent void. It's deafening."
"Welcome to progress and civilization my interloping pal."
"All is not lost. The right souls need the ticket back in."
"Are we experiencing temporary insanity?"
"Perhaps. But even the sky does not remain dark."
Noot put his arm around Iglatikuk as they slowly walked away in their own thoughts.
"…My guide and I crossed over and began
to mount that little known and lightless road
to ascend into the shining world again.
He first, I second, without thought of rest
we climbed the dark until we reached the point
where a round opening brought in sight the blest
and beauteous shining of the Heavenly cars.
And we walked out once more beneath the Stars."
They all made their way to the kayak. Iglatikuk began to push without waiting for Noot.
"Hey, what about me?"
"Are you not staying?"
"How do you know?"
"Your soul spoke to me in the cab."
Marcy looked and laughed, "You truly are an original, Igla. I don't know you but my heart is pounding with heaviness. I'm going to miss you."
"I shall miss you too, Marcy."
Iglatikuk looked over at Noot who was incapable of holding back a tear or two.
"Take your new beginning my dear friend and run free like the wolf."
"I will, Igla."
They hugged.
Writer's note: I'm crying. It took me 3 minutes to regain my composure.
"You take care of yourself. Watch out for those icebergs."
There was a pause.
"That is not funny, Noot."
"I know."
Noot pushed Igla into the water.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Marcy asked Noot.
"Are you kidding me? He found his way to New York City on a fricken kayak!"
On the waters Iglatikuk was finally heading home. He adjusted the headphones and pressed play. He could taste the walrus in a blanket now. Kayaking against the wind, his journey was over.
"I stood stone-like at midnight suspended in my masquerade, I combed my hair til it was just right and commanded the night brigade…."
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