Oklahoma Dreaming: Whew!
by Donna Schoenkopf
You remember ticks.
One got me about four days ago.
And left a bull’s eye.
If you get a bull’s eye, you better get some antibiotics quick, because you will be coming down with Lyme disease, and that is no joke.
So I drove out to the Saturday morning clinic (Open 9 to 5) and parked the car in the parking slip. I was the only one there. I was early. I was early because I wanted to be the first one in the dock because I had a lot of things to do.
Lyme disease rash (not Donna’s)
I ticked them off mentally: Democratic Club meeting, 10:00 am at the Cinderella Motel’s meeting room. Fill prescription after I get it from the clinic. Then to downtown Shawnee, Bell Street to be exact, where I am to help Melissa with her booth at the Arts and Music Festival and Wine Tasting.
Most days, since my retirement, are spent lollygagging around. Putter, putter, eat, eat, watch TV, do a smidgeon of gardening ... life is good.
But today, I had a big day ahead of me.
I rolled down my car windows, letting in a cool breeze which made me realize that a thunderstorm was coming later.
I thought of the massive storm of a few days ago. Circulating clouds, tornadoes, and Tecumseh was smack dab in the middle of its path. But as I watched the radar on Channel 5 I literally saw that damn storm pulling itself apart into two distinct masses like an amoeba. One storm went south and one went north and Tecumseh just sat there in between them with a big smile on its face.
But I digress ... again.
As I was sitting there thinking these thoughts a pickup pulled into the parking lot with a middle-aged dad and his son. I realized I would have to leave my comfortable situation—NPR on the radio, coffee in my cup—to get the number one position in the patient line.
I grabbed my Progressive Populist newspaper (WHO sent it to me???? Thank you, whoever you are!) and headed to the front door of the locked building.
I’ll just lean against these pillars while I wait, and read this groovy newspaper, I said to myself.
A couple of minutes later another car drove up and parked. I didn’t look up, just kept reading a great article about Social Security and how it is NOT about to go belly up. But the person who drove up got out of his car and joined me next to the front door.
So I looked up.
He was a nice middle-aged guy, kind of round all over ... face, torso, hands. His cowboy hat sat comfortably on his head.
Pleasantries exchanged. Nice breeze. Cool. Thunderstorms coming.
Then, because I am nosy and love talking to complete strangers about any old thing, I told him I was there for my bull’s eye tick bite, and then HE said he was there for a tick bite, TOO!
Blah, blah, blah, and then I got a fever, blah, blah, blah, and then I decided to come here, he said.
As this was going on, a kind of grumpy young woman showed up to unlock the front door.
She told us later, after she had gotten behind her desk, that she had just come back from a week of chaperoning 52 kids at summer Bible camp. No wonder she was grumpy.
We signed the sign-in sheet and sat down and Tick Guy and I started talking again. I told him about the Social Security article I was reading and my favorite fact: people who earn more than $75,000 (I think) don’t pay social security taxes above that amount. (And the rich get richer.)
Tick Guy responded by saying Obama was taking away a lot of insurance plans and I said, “Gee, I kind of keep track of that and I hadn’t heard anything.”
We smiled at each other.
You have to tread lightly in the Land of Nice.
I changed the subject, which swung the conversation to what we did for a living. I mentioned the school I substitute for by name. I said it was a small school, and I probably knew every kid there.
That made the son of the OTHER middle-aged man turn around and ask if I knew Natalie. Yes! I knew Natalie! She was one of my favorites. She was in 5th grade and had a remedial reading class with the special ed teacher and she was sweet and dear.
I LOVE that about a small town. You realize you really exist in other people’s lives. Connections are intense in a small town.
A smiling nurse opened the door and called my name.
Hey ... I was first! Things were going my way.
She took my vitals.
Blood pressure: High. Higher than it’s ever been. 157 over 100. Whatever that means. Must have been the political discussion.
Weight: 161 pounds. Gained 3 pounds. What do I expect when I eat Hershey’s miniature chocolate bars every evening for four days.
After that, I was put in a room with kids’ art on the walls.
And waited for Rhonda the Nurse.
She came in all friendly and looked at my tick bite and asked if I wanted a test done to see what exactly was going on with that tick bite, and I said no, the antibiotic would take care of it, whatever it was.
She gave me my prescription and I left.
Went to pharmacy. Dropped off prescription.
Went to Democratic Club meeting. Made a fool of myself with my Big Mouth.
Went back to pick up prescription and was told not to go in the sun. I would burn.
Ohhhhhhh. Yeah. I had that happen another time with an antibiotic. I didn’t believe the pharmacist and went out into the sun for ten minutes and was burnt to a crisp. Weird. Antibiotics causing a change in your chemical soup which then causes massive sun burns.
With prescription in hand, I went home and as I crossed my threshold the phone rang. It was Melissa asking if I could come early to the Festival and bring all my stuff.
You bet.
The car was already loaded, so I climbed back in. I decided not to take the antibiotic just yet. I’ll do it after the Festival of the Drunk, I said to myself.
Onward to Bell Street. I left all my crap in the car, not wanting to carry it two blocks.
People were there, but it wasn’t crowded. A pretty good band played classic ’60s rock. Food stands, wine tasting stands, and some crafts.
And the kiddie booths.
No Melissa.
random scene from the festival
I went back to my car and drove it closer to the booth, parking behind some buildings.
I set up my collected tin cans of all sizes, my plant cuttings laid lovingly in my roaster pan, covered with wet tea towels, my glue and paintbrushes and magazine pictures and ribbon and yarn in various containers. I set out my turtle shell that Diego the Dog dragged home from the forest, a beautiful abalone shell son John gave me, a piece of wood with a beautiful pattern in it, a gift bag with real pressed flowers and leaves decorating it, treasures from Nature.
Because this whole project with kids was to help them appreciate Nature. To recycle. To look at things closely. To plant something that would grow and be green.
Kids showed up immediately. They wanted part of the action. And then Melissa appeared.
We both began helping kids get their stuff together and organized. They chose their own tin cans, picked out pretty pictures or chose stick-on letters to use for decoration. They peacefully worked away on their cans until they had their own personal piece of art. Then they chose their plant cuttings and held it upright while we poured in gravel to hold it in place. Finally, a generous dose of water, and they were done. Two photographers took pictures of the kids and I was interviewed by the local paper. It was all happy.
After a few hours I said good-bye to Melissa and drove home to take my antibiotic and prepare myself for a couple of weeks of not working in the yard.
I walked in and surveyed my house.
I began to pull things off of shelves. I don’t know why. I had no plan. I just couldn’t stand the way they looked. I emptied large boxes of loose photographs. I sorted them into huge piles on the dining room table. I pulled everything off my bookcase in my office area and laid it on its side, making a long, low shelf. I moved the oriental rug to the office.
I took down all the art in the kitchen and Velcroed long, sleek mirrors horizontally on the wall. They reflected the light and trees, grass and sky into the house. It looked modern and clean.
I pulled out six empty photograph albums and started filling them with the pictures of my children and grandchildren and friends and scenes from vacation road trips.
I vacuumed.
I laundered.
And then I laid my tired and satisfied old body on my bed, clicked on the television, and called it a day.
Whew.
donna@fourstory.org
Comments
Very nice...again. Keep it coming.
2009-06-16 by Annemarie