The late September sun beat down on my aching back. Betty, the team forman, yelled break time. I reached for one last apple to fill my bag and stepped backward down the ladder. I hung my bag over the bin and gently let the apples cascade to the bottom. Sandy, my friend and fellow adventurer, and I sat down. We searched the ground for a decent windfall and crunched into the overripe sweetness of a fallen apple. Michael sat down next to me. Instantly, the pheromones flew between us as giddy as the bees drinking the sweetness of those fallen apples. I was speechless, Sandy talked to him.
***
All six of us sat at the table eating spaghetti, Michael, his brothers, Sandy and I. Michael sat across from me, I admired his coal black curls and his brown eyes lured me into the earth and to new beginnings. A drop of sauce hung on his goatee and I yearned to lick it off.
***
He sat next to me on the sofa. I loved the closeness of this family; all the brothers squeezed into this tiny space. The blue light of the TV illuminated their cheerful faces. Full from dinner and wine, I drifted. My body jolted, and he reached for my hand. The wicked witch and I quivered. “I’m melting.”
***
360 miles away, by candlelight, I read his letters. Joni Mitchell sang “Michael from mountains, Go where you will go to, Know that I will know you, Someday I will know you very well.” "I’m melting."
***
He met me at the bus stop. We ran through the icy February streets to his State Street apartment. As we entered the lobby he said, “Check this out.” We rode the rickety elevator to the second floor. It clanged and reverberated, or was it my heart. We opened the door and fell onto the only furniture that could hold two. “I’m melting.”
***
His hand became butterflies as they traversed the country from my ankles to my neck. “I’m melting.”
***
The August heat enveloped me, as the bus opened its doors. Once again, he was waiting for me. This time we walked through the summer heat and downtown to his apartment on Munjoy Hill. The promenade was litter infested and the lighthouse was closed. He had the perfect view of the Portland Harbor. With the help of a bookshelf, we climbed through the bathroom skylight onto the roof. I nestled into his arms as the stars came out. “I’m melting.”
***
He went to Haystack and I moved to Baltimore.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Week #8 Vignettes:
I came home from work around six in the evening. It was the last week of standard time, so the light was just at that point when you could no longer see well. I walked to the chicken coop to lock the two girls in for the night. I stuck my head in the door to say good night. I didn’t hear any of their normal evening clucks as I disturb their slumber and they stir ever so briefly. I looked more closely, and thought “They’re not in there. Shit, why did I let them stay out today?” I went back to the house for a flashlight, and checked again. They weren’t in there. “Shit.” I moaned, again. Last spring I had pushed their luck and let them run and lost one, I hoped that didn’t happen again. Sometimes they like to hide out in the little shed, more like a dog house, that I had built when they were small.
I wandered over, peered in and saw no birds. By now my flashlight was loosing its brightness, so with less and less visibility I searched the yard hoping to find them. By the woodshed, I found a chunk of breast with brown feathers attached, that would have been Winnie. I looked under the canoe, hoping to find Penny, my favorite, but there was no black chicken clucking in fear or pleasure to see me. I continued looking around until the flashlight gave me no light, which actually wasn’t all that long. I decided if Penny had made it she would be up in a tree, if not, there wasn’t much I could do anyway. I went in dismayed and mad at myself for letting them run free that day.
In the morning, with the light of the day, I looked for more clues. The pen, with gate open, was littered with feathers and the carnage of two birds struggling against their predator. I never saw footprints. As I returned to the house, I saw a part of Penny half buried next to the porch. “Damn,” I had hoped she had made it. I got my shovel and gave her a deeper burial by the blueberries.
I wandered over, peered in and saw no birds. By now my flashlight was loosing its brightness, so with less and less visibility I searched the yard hoping to find them. By the woodshed, I found a chunk of breast with brown feathers attached, that would have been Winnie. I looked under the canoe, hoping to find Penny, my favorite, but there was no black chicken clucking in fear or pleasure to see me. I continued looking around until the flashlight gave me no light, which actually wasn’t all that long. I decided if Penny had made it she would be up in a tree, if not, there wasn’t much I could do anyway. I went in dismayed and mad at myself for letting them run free that day.
In the morning, with the light of the day, I looked for more clues. The pen, with gate open, was littered with feathers and the carnage of two birds struggling against their predator. I never saw footprints. As I returned to the house, I saw a part of Penny half buried next to the porch. “Damn,” I had hoped she had made it. I got my shovel and gave her a deeper burial by the blueberries.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Week #7: Character
There’s a photo of my daughter, Rachel, and her friend, Sadie, receiving an award from Governor Baldacci. They are both freshman in college, but the award goes for something they did two years earlier while juniors in high school.
They were both “Peer leaders” in their school. As such, they often counseled young girls who thought they were pregnant, were worried and didn’t’ know what to do. Since their school was rural, Rachel and Sadie realized that few of the students had access to condoms, or family planning. They knew it would not be an easy venture, but they decided to get condoms available in their school. They spent months doing research and visiting with family planning representatives. They brought their request with all their findings to the superintendent. He said they would need to give a presentation to the school board and the public.
On the evening of the hearing, the two girls stood behind the podium. The high school gymnasium was packed full. The last row of bleachers held an intimidating crowd of people from the church down the road. They had many banners and were quite vocal. To the right of the girls sat the 12 members of the school board, the principal and the superintendent.
Rachel began to talk. She was nervous, she mispronounced a few words, her cheeks were flushed, her voice quivered ever so slightly; but she continued. Her job tonight was to convince the public and the school board to allow the distribution of condoms. She told the audience that when she became a peer leader, the most discussed issue was sex and pregnancy. The teen pregnancy rate was high for such a small school. She told how she and her friend Sadie realized that having access to condoms was important. They certainly weren’t condoning having sex, but it was happening already and they wanted to alleviate the problems of teen pregnancies, and sexually transmitted diseases. As she spoke, the catcalls and harassment from the church crowd in the back row got louder. Rachel continued, finding her strength and sounding self-assured. Finally, she was finished with her part of the presentation and Sadie did hers. Next, Rachel invited the public to come forward and speak. She moderated as members of the audience came down and talked for five minute each. The meeting went on for hours, and she stood her ground.
In the end, the school board voted to allow having condoms available, but stipulated that they be dispensed once a week by a representative of Family Planning came who was also available to counsel students.
They were both “Peer leaders” in their school. As such, they often counseled young girls who thought they were pregnant, were worried and didn’t’ know what to do. Since their school was rural, Rachel and Sadie realized that few of the students had access to condoms, or family planning. They knew it would not be an easy venture, but they decided to get condoms available in their school. They spent months doing research and visiting with family planning representatives. They brought their request with all their findings to the superintendent. He said they would need to give a presentation to the school board and the public.
On the evening of the hearing, the two girls stood behind the podium. The high school gymnasium was packed full. The last row of bleachers held an intimidating crowd of people from the church down the road. They had many banners and were quite vocal. To the right of the girls sat the 12 members of the school board, the principal and the superintendent.
Rachel began to talk. She was nervous, she mispronounced a few words, her cheeks were flushed, her voice quivered ever so slightly; but she continued. Her job tonight was to convince the public and the school board to allow the distribution of condoms. She told the audience that when she became a peer leader, the most discussed issue was sex and pregnancy. The teen pregnancy rate was high for such a small school. She told how she and her friend Sadie realized that having access to condoms was important. They certainly weren’t condoning having sex, but it was happening already and they wanted to alleviate the problems of teen pregnancies, and sexually transmitted diseases. As she spoke, the catcalls and harassment from the church crowd in the back row got louder. Rachel continued, finding her strength and sounding self-assured. Finally, she was finished with her part of the presentation and Sadie did hers. Next, Rachel invited the public to come forward and speak. She moderated as members of the audience came down and talked for five minute each. The meeting went on for hours, and she stood her ground.
In the end, the school board voted to allow having condoms available, but stipulated that they be dispensed once a week by a representative of Family Planning came who was also available to counsel students.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Week Six: Theme, Place
Week Six: Theme, Place:
I am remodeling a kitchen and bathroom. Money is tight so I opt for a trip to the BIG BOX and the potential savings. My son and I park the car and head under the monolithic orange sign that spells H-O-M-E-D-E-P-O-T. I’ve never been in there before. The door closes behind us and I am immediately bombarded, I’m on overload already. People scurry about directed by the lure of a bargain just as ants are directed by the lure of a pheromone. Neither activity makes sense to me. To my left are stacks and stacks of flowerpots, reaching ten, fifteen feet high, then mops and mops and mops. To my right are enough light bulbs to brighten every home in Haiti, that is if they had electricity. I look at Ben, “This might be too much for me, I hate to shop.”
I check the list; item #1, lights for the bath and kitchen. We walk past the bulbs and enter the aisle of lights. In the center, ceiling lights crowd against each other in a cacophony of crystal, tiffany, brass and steel, although none of it real. All hang fifteen feet over my head; the only thing at eye level is the price tag in bold black print. $3.98, $13.98, $63.98. Neither Ben nor I can figure out which light the price goes to. Ben starts looking at the boxes and figures the system; you have to match the item numbers. I go for a simple light, but it seem to be chintzy, although it is hard to tell from 15 feet away. I give up on lights, and consult my list.
Item #2, toilet. We start down the central aisle of the store. The signs designating merchandise are up over our heads. I feel like we are asking the Gods of Commerce for directions to the toilet row. The thrones so to speak, rise above us; displayed above our heads. Again, I can’t make a decision. We move on to the kitchen sinks. Guess what, they are over my head, I need to take measurements and I can’t reach. Then it dawns on me: the object is “Don’t let the customer inspect the merchandise. Keep it out of reach and dangle that low price before their eyes and they will buy, buy, buy.”
I need to retreat, but as we wander down the bath tub aisle, I look at Ben, “Let’s climb in and scare somebody.” Ben looks at me, and I can see he is thinking “My mother is crazy” as he watches me step into a shower stall. I hear him laugh and I jump out. Luckily for him, there was no-one to witness his mother’s embarrassing foolishness.
We continue wandering around amidst the towering stacks of stuff. We end up near the contractor’s check out. Somewhere above the sounds of people consuming, I hear a sparrow. I look up and point to Ben, “Look, there’s a bird nest.” We watch the scene in the metal rafters above the stacks, above the signs, and I sense the wonders of nature again. Even here where man flagrantly rules, nature has slipped in. As we watch, the bird flies out and drops a little white splatter of shit on the floor. We leave empty-handed, but with our sanity returned.
I am remodeling a kitchen and bathroom. Money is tight so I opt for a trip to the BIG BOX and the potential savings. My son and I park the car and head under the monolithic orange sign that spells H-O-M-E-D-E-P-O-T. I’ve never been in there before. The door closes behind us and I am immediately bombarded, I’m on overload already. People scurry about directed by the lure of a bargain just as ants are directed by the lure of a pheromone. Neither activity makes sense to me. To my left are stacks and stacks of flowerpots, reaching ten, fifteen feet high, then mops and mops and mops. To my right are enough light bulbs to brighten every home in Haiti, that is if they had electricity. I look at Ben, “This might be too much for me, I hate to shop.”
I check the list; item #1, lights for the bath and kitchen. We walk past the bulbs and enter the aisle of lights. In the center, ceiling lights crowd against each other in a cacophony of crystal, tiffany, brass and steel, although none of it real. All hang fifteen feet over my head; the only thing at eye level is the price tag in bold black print. $3.98, $13.98, $63.98. Neither Ben nor I can figure out which light the price goes to. Ben starts looking at the boxes and figures the system; you have to match the item numbers. I go for a simple light, but it seem to be chintzy, although it is hard to tell from 15 feet away. I give up on lights, and consult my list.
Item #2, toilet. We start down the central aisle of the store. The signs designating merchandise are up over our heads. I feel like we are asking the Gods of Commerce for directions to the toilet row. The thrones so to speak, rise above us; displayed above our heads. Again, I can’t make a decision. We move on to the kitchen sinks. Guess what, they are over my head, I need to take measurements and I can’t reach. Then it dawns on me: the object is “Don’t let the customer inspect the merchandise. Keep it out of reach and dangle that low price before their eyes and they will buy, buy, buy.”
I need to retreat, but as we wander down the bath tub aisle, I look at Ben, “Let’s climb in and scare somebody.” Ben looks at me, and I can see he is thinking “My mother is crazy” as he watches me step into a shower stall. I hear him laugh and I jump out. Luckily for him, there was no-one to witness his mother’s embarrassing foolishness.
We continue wandering around amidst the towering stacks of stuff. We end up near the contractor’s check out. Somewhere above the sounds of people consuming, I hear a sparrow. I look up and point to Ben, “Look, there’s a bird nest.” We watch the scene in the metal rafters above the stacks, above the signs, and I sense the wonders of nature again. Even here where man flagrantly rules, nature has slipped in. As we watch, the bird flies out and drops a little white splatter of shit on the floor. We leave empty-handed, but with our sanity returned.
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