Steel Kaleidoscopes

The Continuing Saga of Dave

Dave Tomlinson took a deep breath of salty ocean air, the glistening flounder lying flat beneath his hands on the silky sea grass.

It would be a good dinner after a tiring yet mundane day, most of which was spent standing in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

If it hadn't been for the leathernecks yelling obscenities from the metallic orange Camaro on his drive to the beach, it would have been a non-descript day, the kind you file away but are powerless to recall.

Dave thought little necks would be the perfect complement to the flounder, but was nervous about an extended flossing session before bedtime.

Dave sighed deeply, then poured a glass of Conundrum before changing the batteries in the TV remote.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

Rottweilers could incite fear into the tiniest of robots.

Dave Tomlinson related to the mammal-computer mismatch, and found comfort in the fact that when zeppelins scraped the sky, it meant that transportation options weren't limited to traditional means.

Historical documents had revealed lucid, not lurid, facts related to the Spanish Inquisition, and Dave would be damned if he felt pressured to rewrite the epic.

If Army Majors were considered zealots, nuns were indeed practitioners of plebeianism.

It was not the moral ground upon Dave was used to standing.

In the end he agreed screams were annoying, but somehow essential.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

The paper towel dispenser had been empty for two days, yet Dave Tomlinson continued to postpone the 20-minute drive to Target.

If it were not for the flurry of activity surrounding his advanced trombone lessons and appointment to student council president, Dave would have found time for more menial tasks.

It was during this surge of accountability that the breeze on his neck felt a little cooler, a little stiffer. The wind at his back was more than a cliche to Dave, who each day opened his eyes wishing he looked like Alex Trebek.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

Dave Tomlinson knew the rubber band certification seminar was a bad idea.

In the past, competencies considered for career advancement revolved more around organic solutions.

Most of his childhood friends exhibited textile tendencies, the promise of short-term cash overshadowing the long-term benefits of decade relevance.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

E-mail was proving to be the communications tool of choice for Dave Tomlinson, and he toyed with various subject lines to test response rates among junior and senior executives.

In the scheme of the Nebbiolo Bin 77 acquisition, he proposed varying degrees of storage capabilities. It was in the summer of '75 when he determined that Toni Tennille was a stronger vocalist than Tony Orlando, but this revelation was somehow locked away in his long-term memory bank.

With dinner just 11 minutes away, Dave contemplated the benefits of carbo-infused sides dishes like bow tie pasta and cheddar baked potatoes.

In the end, Dave reasoned, the thin man wins more Electronic Battleship tournaments.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

The South African business venture, and its complicated integration challenges, weighed heavily on Dave Tomlinson's mind.

In the spirit of bipartisan advocacy, he knew the efforts were worthwhile. He was confident in 22 percent operating margins in three years.

It was the meaningless distractions that could slow down progress, so he needed to find proven filtering techniques to diffuse the noise.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

In the spirit of consequential influence, Dave Tomlinson took a proactive approach and snapped his Bazooka bubble gum with authority.

The Achievers Trip was a special acknowledgment for the transcendental sales force, a group of highly motivated openers and closers, engaged in the spirit of proven, repeatable sales methodology.

Alec Baldwin be damned, thought Dave. If coffee was for closers, he was Brazil. If not for the political posturing among regional sales managers, he should be in Aruba, hoisting himself upward into the breezy, menthol-spirited trade winds.

A few Molsons later, he realized it was OK.

He sniffed the Dunbar eraser to illicit memories of semi-structured second grade, relieved that Captain Cordani was a hero only to those who excelled at Dodgeball.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

Dave Tomlinson picked at his plate of pasta in the semi-crowded Bertucci's, eavesdropping on the conversation in the next booth.

"What does your dad do?"

"He was a lawyer."

"So you decided not to follow in his footsteps."

"No, I don't think I have the necessary negotiation skills."

Dave thought of his own lack of negotiation skills, his mind drifting back to the balsa wood airplane that interrupted his attention to dental hygiene.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

In the back of the moonlit '41 Ford Coupe, Dave Tomlinson pondered his next move.

His dinner consisted of glazed carrots, fresh celery and broccoli with melted cheese. He looked forward to e-mailing the chef for her recipe.

Nutrition had moved to the forefront of his agenda, the most proven way to lower his cholesterol from 217 to 196.

On the eve of the Silver Eagle Fencing Convention, Dave recognized that prime-time television provided marginal value.

The Continuing Saga of Dave

In the absence of logical interpretation, Dave Tomlinson took it upon himself to indulge in the sugary-molasses substance.

He pointed to the history of the North End, the sub-plots of "Galaxy Quest" and the nuances of Green Line transportation in his decision to mimic Tom Menino.

It wasn't until the second Tuesday after the spaghetti incident that he decided to skip the bocci social.