Mr. K and the Wagons

So, this is an excerpt (a rough, rough excerpt) from some stories that I have been writing down about a man named Mr. K that I used to visit with at a nursing home. He was quirky and funny and a little dirty. I wrote letters and visited him for three years. Thought I would share a little with "you" whoever "you" are. Just a warning, the story is true (acc. to Mr. K) and it is sort of gross. So. There you go.

I walked in to the nursing home that morning with two cups of coffee from a shop nearby. One was for Mr. K. He was always complaining about the coffee and how bad it was in the nursing home. I also thought maybe if he was holding something he wouldn't try to put his hand on my leg. But, as I walked in the front door it occurred to me that he could barely hold a cup, let alone sip something hot without it being dangerous. "Nice" I said out loud. He never ate or drank anything while I was visiting. My coming often overlapped with meals and not once... I sighed dryly. "What was I thinking?", I mumbled . Well, I certainly wasn't going to flaunt my ability to hold something. I dumped both coffees in the trash outside his door and shoved my hands into my pockets. "Hey Mr. K. It's pretty chilly out today."

"Hello friend" he said. He always called me friend now. I don't think he remembered my name. I noticed his hair had been cut and his nails trimmed. I looked closer and realized a better description would be, he had been buzzed. The sparse hair on his head was the same length as his facial hair and eyebrows. Even his sprouting ear hair was the same height as the rest. With the evening light shining in behind him, he looked like he had a silver halo from his shoulders up...

...I had looked forward to hearing any stories from the war, but I didn't feel right asking him about it. When he finally pulled out his scrapbook from Germany, I sat close and tried to listen carefully....

..He pointed out a picture of a man. "This is Henry. He ran the wagons with me" Mr. K launched into the story.

"Back then they still had trucks with those wooden parts on the back. We had some of them new ones, metal ones, but mostly just wood. That is what we used to collect the bodies from the field. After a skirmish or battle we would drive out there and load up the wagons. Pile 'em in. Sometimes we couldn't get out there for a couple of days, you know? The rats would've gotten to them by then. It was the craziest thing. They would go for the eyes first. Noses, ears, fingers were next. One time we found a fella, he was pretty tore up. Anyway, we found his arm about 20 yards away, no lie. Those rats had dragged his arm off.... " He looked at me. I tried to look stone faced. My stomach was a tight knot, but I didn't want to give him any reason to stop. I wondered where this was going. Mr. K laughed. "Henry said if we could train them rats they would win the war for us. They could have carried the enemy off piecemeal. One day we were loading the trucks. We had to go a little ways and we found an old, uh, cold storage locker. You know one of them big things they used to hang sides of beef in before they was sold." I had no idea what he was talking about but I nodded, urging him to continue. "Well, Henry and I broke in, found it full of beef. Just hanging there, Nazi cows waiting for us men." He laughed at his little joke. "We drove back to the staging area and dumped those bodies as fast as we could. We couldn't do much about the maggots."

"Maggots." I said
"Weeeelll, the wagons were wooden you know. All those putrefied bodies, blood, guts, it really attracted them maggots. We could never really get 'em all out. The wagons would never get very clean. And that day we didn't even try. We high-tailed it back to the locker and loaded us a wagon full of beef. It may have had our guts all over it but by damn it we took that meat and ate ever last bit." He laughed. By this time I was realizing that my definition of a war story and Mr. K's definition of a war story were, different.
"You ate it. Oh, wow."
"You betcha, well, we scraped off the outside, but. after nothing but K rations for so long, it was good to have honest to goodness meat in our bellies. Them guys was so excited to have all that beef too." He paused

"Sometime, I'll have to tell you about the girls over there" he winked.

"Gross, Mr. K".
I felt a little strange, I looked at him. His eyes were off of me, he was looking at (his roommate). He had a little boy quality about him today and even though I couldn't understand why, I felt a little let down. I looked at him again and saw something else. A sagging. I realized these memories were ones that he didn't want to talk about, not because they were painful, but because he knew I wanted him to be a hero, to have the stories of a hero. I sat there in my own immaturity, embarrassed. Then words started tumbling out.
"Mr. K, I bet you sure did a lot to boost every one's mood. I can't believe you loaded all those heavy sides of beef. It's a wonder no one else thought of going in there..."

He looked at me.

There was something else in his eyes now.

It made me uncomfortable.

He leaned close to me, and breathed, "I wish I was twenty years younger."

"Yeah.. Okay, Mr. K, I gotta go"

Different Perspective

We live in an apartment. We started looking to buy a house recently and our list of "must haves" is long. So long, in fact, that I have been labeled by my husband as hopelessly picky. As we have looked and looked (our poor realtor!), we have become hopelessly stressed. Nothing was right, everything was out of our price range. And then a friend had a wise word.

"Wait".

Ahhhh.

Thank you.

And as we have retreated into contentment with the present situation, all of those "must haves" and amenities just seem to fade into the frenzied distance. Take yesterday for example:

I met our neighbors. They moved in recently and are a truly sweet family. They had to move into the apartments because their house burned two months ago. They lost virtually everything. I asked her what she missed the most. She said there were a few things that she missed, but since they were minutes away from losing their lives in that fire when they made it out, she was just so grateful to have her kids and her husband. Then she added, "hey, I know what it's like to be new in town so let me know if you need anything!"

Wow. Really?

Then last night:

I was hemming the skirt of a dress I am attempting to make. I was sitting in our bathroom (don't judge, it's really quiet.). I was sewing as fast as I could, knowing that I only had about ten minutes of quiet, tops. JR busted through the door. "Mom, I brought you something for you to be delightful about!" She unloaded a box of matchbox cars and the felt racetrack onto the floor. Next came AJ, stark naked. He grinned, said, "hi!!" and sat to pick out a car.

I gave up the sewing and joined them on the floor. In walked my husband. He took a spot on the counter and started talking. I sat there in the 4X6 bathroom with both of my kids and my husband. We were actually laughing, talking and playing in that tiny space.

Hmmm.

My attitude towards "more space" is looking a lot like selfishness, not necessity.

I am really glad we have a living room, a bathroom and a kitchen. Beyond that, it's gravy!

Family

Do you have friendships that are so easy, you don't realize they are extraordinary?

I do.

The conversations are peaceful and interesting, or, lively and entertaining.

The stories aren't told as if they are terribly important, but I can't stop thinking about them.

I laugh harder than normal, sometimes out of relief for something to laugh about, but sometimes because it's the funniest darn thing I have ever heard in my life.

The lovely is exposed.

The bittersweet is embraced.

The struggles cease to be dramatic, and instead, become a small part of a big picture.

I'd like to think I treasure these friendships. But I take them for granted too many times

so

Dear Kate, Kim, Mom and Ben,

Thank you so much for spending time with me. I had a blast. You all are so much fun! But I have to admit. I couldn't finish the projects we started. The table was still covered in scraps of fabric until the other day because I couldn't bear to put it away. I was so excited to finish that silly dress, but now that you all are gone I just can't find any inspiration! When I finally packed it up, I kind of felt like my heart was going to just break right in two.

I miss you guys.

The projects and crafts are in the closet, ready for the next time we all get together. I will get to hear about boyfriends and dates, why I should eat apples with the skin on, how to wear the latest trends, or whether God is calling you to the mission field. Next time we'll have to sit around the piano, like old times. (are you listening Allison and Heather?) Okay, enough sentiment.

Here's to family!

Here's to friendship!

Here's to your loveliness and depth that feed my soul.

Beth

Fearless Mistakes

I took apart the disposal one time because it wouldn't work. It ended up being a pebble stuck in the blade. It could have been fixed by sticking my hand down the drain a few more times. But I chose the hard way. Three hours, some online tutorials (including having to look up what an allen wrench is) and all the parts of the nasty, awful disposal laid out on the counter.

Frustrating.

However, I know now how to install a disposal. I know how to take it apart. And I am not afraid to do so.

It's funny how making a mistake actually contributed to more confidence in the long run. So I got to thinking. How far have I come in fearless homemaking?

In the kitchen, bad:

I have made a jelly roll (yuck), marzipan (ew), cream puffs, bread, cinnamon rolls, pie crust, taffy, peanut brittle, caramel, mayonnaise, polenta, gnocchi, etc. and they have ALL failed. I started three kitchen fires, ruined a microwave and burned a coffee pot. Tried to make my own cleaning products that made my husband gag.

Good:

Some of those recipes are easy now. Have you ever had an old fashioned taffy pull? Soooooo much fun! I have helped pull up linoleum and refinished old wood floors. I have also repainted cabinets.

In the laundry room bad:

It took me five years to figure out how I was going to fold my dishtowels (the first two years I folded them like a flag, weird). I am now banned from washing my husband's jeans (couldn't remember which ones were no-drys). Made my own laundry detergent and it made the clothes smell like old grapes.

Good:

Can iron MH's (my husband's) shirts the way he likes 'em. Just learned a month ago. I can dye cheesecloth, muslin and cotton on purpose (fun!).

In the living room bad:

I still don't know how people keep their carpet clean. I have painted the walls dark green, dark brown with white swirls, red, and mustard yellow. I actually embossed my walls with gold wax one time because I thought it would look cool, it did not.

Good:

I can sponge, glaze, rag and paint huge pink stars. Ugh. I also fixed a "broken" speaker for the surround sound.

In the bedrooms bad:

I made our curtains out of remnant fabric, and bamboo rods. I have made curtains out of sheets, beads, ribbon, glue, and felt.... Oh, man, I hate my tacky self. I have made doll clothes out of ribbon, toilet paper, tape and buttons. I found pieces of a dress I made on the floor the other day. Apparently it was supposed to be functional, as in removable. Didn't know.

Good:

Okay, nothing good here.

In the bathroom bad:

paint, re-paint, kind of fixed the toilet. I hung a shelf once, well I hung it like, five times. Okay, done here..

Outside bad:

By my calculations I kill about 21 plants every spring. That means I have murdered close to 168 innocent plants in my married life. That is not counting seedlings. Used compost from sanitation department. Best flowers, worst smell.

Good:

I can grow herbs, (go figure) and flowers. Not only that, I can mulch, mow, weed and I have even picked up a snake that was hanging out in the dirt (with a stick of course)

Not bad. I think I am getting better. My sense of style is a little off (someone once told me that the way I decorate forces people to feel a certain way). So, I might need to work on that one... But I think the important thing is I have very little fear of making mistakes with my house.

Now, if I could only transfer that lack of fear to relationships with people...

Best Field Trip Ever

We went on a lot of field trips when I was little; the planetarium, aquarium, alligator farm, children's museum, reenactments, plays, interactive lectures, etc. But a lot of the trips were to the zoo in New Orleans.

It was a favorite of our homeschool association.

And our group was thorough. They read alllll of the plaques, information sheets and pamphlets that were available. When the information was wrong, (allusions to evolution) the moms would stop and reeducate us right on the spot.

It was usually a long day.

Inevitably, my understanding mom would split from the "pack" and we would end up doing our own thing.

But one time we drove with friends in their wood paneled station wagon. So I knew there was no escaping the others. Six little girls all under the age of ten, piled in the back seat that smelled of gasoline and vinyl.

Dreading, dreading.

It was hot.

The humidity perpetuated the natural stink that accompanies zoo life.

And it felt like we walked for hours.

Suddenly, in true Louisiana fashion, the clouds moved overhead, the heavens opened, and rain fell in buckets.

Six kids, two moms, no umbrellas, and we couldn't even see to find the exit.

My mom managed to get eight yellow ponchos with animals all over them. We stood under the snack pavilion huddled together.

When the rain eased up, everyone was soaked.

But now there were puddles.

The trip suddenly got superbly better.

We squished and splashed our way out of the zoo, and headed to the nearest laundry mat.

We stripped down to our skivvies, put the ponchos on and sat with instructions to be quiet while our clothes were tumble dried.

Six girls wearing sticky yellow ponchos in a car with the windows rolled down.

The air was cool.

Freedom was breezing through the open windows and it was irresistible.

Ponchos were discarded.

We jumped and climbed over the seats.

We shouted to passers-by and sang at the top of our lungs.

We giggled harder than we had all day.

The miserable trip to the zoo was forgotten.

So...I guess I don't have good memories of the zoo.

But I do have good memories of being in a station wagon filled with half-naked little kids.

That's, actually

kind of weird.

odd.

whatever.

It was still the best field trip ever.

Going Blind in Wal-Mart

I went to Wal-Mart today. On the way in to the store, I noticed that I couldn't see out of my left eye very well. I thought it was my contact lens and so I kept scrunching my eyes shut to try to get my vision clear. It wasn't working and I realized while I was on the baking aisle it was actually getting worse.

Instead of slowing down and trying to figure out what was wrong, I panicked and started throwing things into the cart. I rushed through the aisle, thinking that I could at least get the grocery shopping done before I went completely blind in one eye.

I was winking and blinking and shaking my head as I rushed to check out.

Then, right between AJ punching all the buttons on the credit card machine and JR dropping the carton of eggs on the floor,

it hit me.

What if I couldn't drive?

What if the other eye started going blind?

I took a deep breath and looked at my cart brimming with groceries and then at my two children who I didn't know if I would be able to see after today.

I marched myself into the Wal-Mart vision center.

"Hi, um, I can't see out of my left eye. It's all fuzzy." I tried to sound nonchalant

"OK. When would you like to get in to see the doctor?"

"Just as soon as possible, I can't see and, it's a little weird" my voice was suddenly so loud.

5 minutes later my kids and I were sitting in the exam room with a shopping cart full of abandoned diapers and dairy products in the hall.

Then it happened.

My eye just went and cleared right up.

I sat there with my two toddlers and wondered if I could sneak out with my shopping cart unnoticed.

The doctor came in.

"Hey!" I said. "Umm, I couldn't see, but now it's okay"

It didn't get me out of an exam. And an embarrassing revelation.

It was low blood sugar, or that I needed sleep.

"Oh." I said "Next time I go blind in one eye, I'll eat a snack and take a nap before I come see you, okay?"

Then I laughed waaay too hard and left.

He didn't charge me.

Well, if a crazy lady pushed a cart full of groceries and two kids into your office and claimed to be going blind, would you charge her, or get her out as fast as you could?

Right. Thought so.