The Thing at 34-03-15N, 118-15-23W

The Thing at 34-03-15N, 118-15-23W: Click title for full story.

The Colorado Quarterly (Spring, 1969)

Charles Deemer


Falling into the generation gap, I miss Willie Mays' home run

I CAN HEAR THEM out there. They are, to ignore the language's index of elasticity, dancing. And they are dancing with each other, I am asked to believe, although the fact of the matter is that when I left the patio they were exhibiting their individual spasms of ecstasy over a separation of six to twelve feet. Now I ask you: is that dancing together? I will admit that they are — for lack of a better word — involved. Yes, they are involved. They are so involved that they neglect to admire the new patio, the excuse for this party in the first place. I finished it last Wednesday, designing and building the whole thing myself, setting it into a three-colored form of a navigator's compass, at the center of which a brass plate marks the exact location of the patio: 34 degrees, 3 minutes, 15 seconds north, 118 degrees, 15 minutes, 23 seconds west. Having been a navigator in the Navy during the war, I made that measurement precisely. Myself."

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Early in the 1950s, my dad and granddad, who was living with us, built the patio in this story behind our home in Pasadena, including the plaque. Years later after our home was torn down to make room for the new Foothills Freeway, my dad searched the rubble for the plaque but didn't find it.

This early story has worn especially well with me. I'd list it high on my list of favorites, even though it wasn't one of the three honored by Best American Short Stories during this period of prolific short story writing and appearances in literary magazines, late sixties through early seventies.

My frequent appearances had attracted the notice of agents. One liked the first few chapters of a novel I was working on, an agent who went on to make a considerable reputation for himself. However, I never finished the novel, called The Idaho Blues. I switched my focus to playwriting instead.

Similarly, just as doors began to open for my (traditional) plays, I became obsessed with the non-commercial hyperdrama form. I've always followed my literary passions over common sense for what was best for my career, at least in the usual terms. I'd do it all again because it's the only way I know how to write without boring myself.