Reflections
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The Only Day
Today marks the ninth anniversary of the day my mother departed this life and went on to the next one. My sister and I chatted about this last night, remembering some of the happy times and some of the not-so-happy times we shared with the stoic, flinty old woman who gave us life and fed us and sheltered us and tried to guide us. I miss you, Mother, and I love you. I hope to see you again when my own time comes to sail into the west. *** It’s still hot here and will reach 90 today and for the remainder of the week, but the mornings have been…
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The Thirteenth of August
Today would have been her 103rd birthday, and her absence these nine years has left a divot on my life’s surface. I miss her, and I am glad she isn’t here to see what has become of her country and her region. Seeing such ugliness would have grieved her tough, hidden old heart. Her middle name was Viola, which she hated. I always loved it, thinking it had a Southern literary lilt to it, like Eudora or Flannary, and I would sometimes address her by it, which enraged her. “Viola,” I’d say, “Reckon what it would take to get you to make me some bacon for supper?” And she would…
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Wanderings, Wonderings
There’s a certain liquid but frictioned struggle when I walk through the grass in the morning after it rains. My feet, less sure now, more prone to missteps and the cruelty of unbalancing, skim through the green sea of clover and vetch, leaving long strokes like ski tracks behind me. But I do not turn to look at these tracks as I walk, because I do not trust my own footfalls. This, then, is what aging is: a gradual mistrust of all the powers and agile techniques and reflexive movements that I once took for granted, like a good Catholic who, when he sees death’s cowled head bobbing up over…
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Passages
Mrs. Orr took Dixee to the vet this morning, as she has not been improving. We have been discussing what to do in case the news was grim. The ultrasound and xrays showed no tumor, no growth, but the vet determined she had neurological issues for which they could do little except steroid injections, which would only prolong her decline. So Dixee departed this life this morning with her mama with her, and I trust that now she’s romping in a green field somewhere with her beloved sissy, Bonnie. Dixee came to us via a cranky old woman. A man had approached the old woman with Dixee in his arms,…
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Ailing Dixee
Our little elderly dog, Dixee, has been failing today. Mrs. Orr noticed it right away this morning. She was just off, and even though she ate and drank at breakfast, she wasn’t quite herself. Through the day, she has declined noticeably. The most dramatic symptom is a weakness in her rear legs. She walks and moves as if someone gave her a novocaine injection in her hips. They’re splaying out, weak and trembly, and she seems perplexed by this development. She also seems to be retaining some fluid, her belly distended from edema, which causes her to wheeze and gasp as she’s laying on her side, trying to sleep. Understandably,…
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Her Majesty
In late afternoon yesterday, I prepared to take our household trash to the disposal station north of us. I gathered the bags and went outside to load them, and I noticed a large bird’s nest on the ground beneath the weeping willow tree. The day had been gusty and the wind had taken the intricate structure down. I started to just ignore it for the time being, but that curious little voice inside me urged me to go look at the nest. There might be eggs inside, said the voice. So I went to the nest, marveling as I always do at the workmanship and careful design a bird can…
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Caught, Released
I’m finishing up a book, a profile of a very interesting man. The book is The Final Frontiersman: Heimo Korth and His Family, Alone in Alaska’s Arctic Wilderness by James Campbell (2004, Atria Books, New York NY). Mrs. Orr and I first learned of Mr. Korth and his family a few years ago when we watched a Discovery Channel series about him and the few remaining homesteading families in the Arctic Wildlife National Refuge in Alaska. We were quite taken with Heimo and his winsome family, and have followed them via interviews and profiles over the years. The series we watched was called The Last Alaskans, and if you can…
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Something In The Water
We spent most of the day doing our rat killin’ (running errands, to you Yankees ) and returned home to sit in our chairs on the back porch, fans humming away, watching the thermometer climb to near 90F. Good times. The joints appreciate the lack of refrigerated pain. When we got down to the bottom of the mountain this morning, we detoured over to Pal’s drive-thru and we each got a sausage biscuit, an order of cheddar rounds (sort of like a large tater tot embedded with real cheddar cheese and smushed flat) and a sweet tea. While sitting in the line, I looked over and saw a familiar sight.…
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Feast of the Maid
He was feeling low that day, with all the regrets and bad decisions and missed opportunities of a lifetime revolving before him like a carousel, pulling him into that silent despondent cave where he sometimes found himself, with warmth and light and hope far outside, seemingly unreachable. Those moments felt like eternity, and eternity troubled him. The phone rang and he answered it, providing the lengthy greeting that was by now so natural for him to recite, the greeting ending with “How may I help you today?” The voice was female, faint, and warbly. “I need some help.” “I’d be glad to help you, ma’am. Is there something in particular…
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Horribilis Septimana
A truly unpleasant week is behind me now, and I am grateful for the passage of time. A rabbit came by the front door a while ago to nibble some buttercups, and he seemed at peace with his dangerous little world, so I suppose I can try to be at peace as well. First of all, a belated Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mothers among my regular readers. I’d also like to say Happy Mother’s Day to all the divorce-raped single fathers who do both jobs with love and devotion. See, that’s why it’s a good thing that I don’t have a Facebook account….I’d post something like that…