Playing Fair and Being Kind

The Northeast is slipping rapidly into Spring. As is common in the upper U.S. Spring is a combination of late Winter and something we call “mud season”. I’ve been tracking detritus from the yard into the house since early May. Some days are quite nice, warm and sunny. Most days are overcast and cool. The surrounding ocean cools the air as it passes over and flows ashore. The sun is gaining the upper hand though and I look forward to more comfortable temps.

This is the season to catch up with yard work. It seems odd to be wielding rake and garden spade while bundled up and nose dripping. It is what it is, eh? The payoff is seeing the ugly drab sticks and dead looking vines with bright green points protruding through the bark a few inches above the ground. These tiny occurrences always amaze me and fill me with joy.

Seeing the bright green energizes and encourages like nothing else. There are buds and blossoms that demand to be admired and I oblige. I count apple blossoms on the semi-dwarf Arkansas Black and the Orange Pippin and I imagine the number of pies. Likewise the three peach trees. They all have survived this past winter and I feel elated that they are so loaded with blossoms that promise. My energy is renewed and I scratch and dig and poke into the earth. My nose detects the powerful smells of the soil and the richness buried. I plant nine pole bean seedling alongside the young saplings that I have cut and pushed into the garden for them to climb on. I plan on finding a small bag of seed potatoes. I love potatoes!

I have read that there is as much muscle building protein in a baked potato as there is in a four ounce steak. The cattle barons have been caught in a lie. Their days are numbered. I have been eating vegan since February first. I still live. I remain healthy and strong. I no longer eat dead animals.

Speaking of which I had the men’s group over to my house last night and we all ate dinner together. I had a pot of vegetarian chili and huge pan of vegan cornbread. I sauteed a pan of fiddle heads with garlic and onion to add some greens to the meal. We had a grand time and I discharged a huge load of nurturing in the process. I felt gratified to see the guys fill up on good wholesome food. There were moments of discussion regarding the eating habits we enjoy. I really enjoyed the evening.

I have dubbed my house The Castle and others have picked up on this and now I occasionally will notice someone use the phrase. The Castle is a source of pride for me. Not so much for its structure and condition as much as its great location. I live on Hodgdon Island in Boothbay. The road passes close to the water and no one can build between The Castle and the view of the Sheepscot River I enjoy. I can see nearly a half mile of waterway from where I sit writing this. Any time of year the view is gorgeous.

There are parts of The Castle that need attention and I am dutifully attending to these. I have hired a person to clean the interior of The Castle as I focus on repairs and the exterior. Since beginning my vegan way of living my energy has soared and I have renewed interest in my surroundings. I am excited about the future.

I need to end this here so I will. Here is something I wrote this morning. It is a fantasy piece. I have been freeing up my mind, or rather I have been allowing my persona to emerge less edited than before. This short story illustrates. Have a great week and I hope you get outside to enjoy the world. Or, just stay inside as I like to do sometimes and hide from the world. That also works.

Peace, g

OSCAR

Oscar was on his third cup of coffee and his eighth restart of the poem that was ghosting in his mind. Playing in the background was a late classical period piano concerto by some Italian composer. It all seemed so scripted. A struggling writer at his keyboard; in bathrobe, in the quiet of a Maine morning by a body of water in Spring; coffee cooling on the side table; classical music on the radio.

Cliches notwithstanding the poem was not coming together. Oscar entertained the thought of switching the words to a short story with ambiguous breaks but his mind was resistant in all directions. Oscar sat back in the old recliner, picked up the coffee mug and took a large mouthful. He let the tepid stuff squeeze into his throat and down the hatch. He liked the theme but he wasn’t too crazy about the images piling up in his imagination. He needed to write it all down and then begin the process of tossing aside those parts that were weakest and non-supportive of a central thread. Good thinking, Oscar, he mused. Oscar put down the mug and hit the save button one more time.

Oscar placed his hands on the keyboard anticipating a thought to come and then he sat back in the big chair again, heaving a great sigh. His mind cluttered with a hundred patterns of words but none of them cogent. Oscar absently pulled at the hairs on his chin. Ouch! He felt a tiny lump just right of center under the hairs. It was tender and Oscar gently felt with his index finger a small swelling. Odd…this is new, he thought. His mind was now off the pile of words on the computer screen. Oscar needed to go find a mirror to check this little nuisance. He stood and walked across the great room. The bathroom had a mirror with light bars all around it and that’s where Oscar headed. He carried his mug with him and as he passed the kitchen counter he left it next to the sink.

Oscar pushed into the bathroom, flipped the lights on and leaned in toward the mirror. He examined the area where he had felt the small lump. He had just recently trimmed his beard so the examination took no time at all. There it was. He had feared that a tick had burrowed into the sparse jungle on his chin but no, there was only the tiny swelling of the skin under the hair. It was still tender but now that he was looking directly at the area he felt less discomfort. Oscar parted the hairs and noticed the skin was a shade darker than the surrounding surface.

Oscar straightened perplexed. Hmm, he thought. The small lump now seemed larger. Gently Oscar again probed the hairs on his chin and felt the spot. It was quite hard and when he pressed the lump he could feel something else. The lump was elongated and seemed to continue in two directions under the skin. Oscar noticed now that the shade was darker than just a few moments ago. Whew! Damn! This is really strange. Oscar was confused and thought about calling his doctor. First he’d need to examine the damned thing so he could talk intelligently about it with whomever answered his call.

Oscar took off his bifocals, wiped them on the lapel of his bathrobe and again leaned toward the mirror. Goddam! There was a black thing just under the skin and it seemed ready to poke through. Indeed it was elongated and Oscar thought it was a living thing and he began to freak out. Jeezum fucking Crow! What is it? Oscar opened the medicine cabinet and took out a pair of tweezers and found an alcohol wipe. When he closed the cabinet door he immediately noticed the black thing was now really protruding from under the skin and it was readily visible from a distance. Oscar could feel his heart beating and there was definitely a sense of dread taking over.

Oscar’s hand was shaking badly so he held the tweezers with two hands and gently grasped what looked like a piece of wire. The surrounding skin was split and Oscar’s chin displayed a loop of black wire protruding. Oscar pulled the wire very slowly and it came easily. As Oscar pulled some more he felt his whole right side disappear. There was no pain and no sensation whatsoever. Oscar’s whole right side was visible in the mirror but he could not feel anything from the middle of his body toward the right. His whole right side was non-existent sensory wise. Oscar stopped pulling the wire and he fell over against the shower stall and crumbled to the floor.

Oscar’s mind was functioning at a lower level but he could determine that he needed to get to the telephone and call his physician. There was a number written on the telephone handset that would connect him directly with the group that provided him medical care. Oscar carefully but laboriously pulled himself with his left hand and leg out of the bathroom and across the great room toward the telephone. When he reached the telephone he was dripping with sweat and he had scraped away parts of his body during the process. Oscar was a mess but he finally had the telephone in his grasp. He checked the number on the handset and pushed the buttons on the keypad.

Oscar held the telephone handset to his left ear with his left hand. He was breathing heavily and just able to hold his head up by leaning against the base of the recliner. The telephone was ringing and he felt relieved that the number was working as expected. A few more rings and a voice at the other end announced, “Central Intelligence Agency Medical Group. Please enter your seven digit pass-code followed by the pound sign”.

George M. Goodwin

26 May 2015