WWQP Bulletin Board Chat

Hugs & Small Towns

Sara, please give Carl a hug from me. It might be a good thing that he has a fever for it indicates the problem is an infection rather that a malignancy. Either way, it's certainly worth pursuing.

Rosey, I was just thinking of you as I logged on. I too, having been a child of suburbs of huge cities, NYC, Detroit, Baltimore and finally St. Pete (going from huge to less huge to almost small) love living here in the boondocks. Al's background was similar to mine but started near Detroit. We both knew instinctively that this is what we were cut out for. Today I went to a so-so pottery festival in nearby Dillsboro, an artsy little town right next to Sylva. Then I went to the county community services building where there was a fund raiser for a neighbor who lives down the road from me. He's 33 and dying of cancer. Like so many around here he in uninsured. He was self employed, a large equipment operator for construction contractors who are in the same position. He is part of a huge clan descended from mid 19th C. settlers of this area and old fashioned family values persist. I had had him confused with his brother who is a family man but found out tonight as I hugged the young lady I thought was his wife and she straightened me out. The sick fellow is not married so he will leave no orphans. There must have been over two hundred people there, many with small children in tow. There was a $6 barbecue dinner, a cake walk which if you don't know as I didn't til I moved here, is similar to musical chairs only with live music, the ubiquitous string band. Numbers have been written on tape which is stuck on the floor around the perimeter of the large gym sized room. Folks march around the room and when the music stops each person steps on the nearest unoccupied number. The mistress of ceremonies calls out a number and if anyone is on that number he wins a cake that's been donated for that purpose.

Next came the cake auction! I came home with a $70.00 pound cake! That's not all. The man sitting next to me bid a cake up to $85, paid for it and handed it back to be auctioned again. He didn't notice when it came up again and inadvertently bought it again. He cheerfully paid a total of almost $200 for that cake. There was a lot of laughter and hugs and I never, for one second, felt like an outsider. I was tired and gimpy later in the evening and young people jumped up to help me, take my dinner trash away etc. It's like a huge family. There was also a silent auction and I now have a lovely matted and framed print made by my favorite water color painter. She does all the framing I need and I got a bargain at $75 compared to her work I see in a local gallery. I also got a relatively cheap bedside lamp I can make good use of. Eventually I escaped with three dollars in my wallet. Despite recent losses in my portfolio I know perfectly well that I'm better off than the vast majority of those folks and I've never seen such an outpouring of love. It makes me teary just thinking about it. Every week the local paper announces several such fund raisers usually hosted by one of the many little Baptist or Methodist churches. All the doctors around here carry a fair proportion of their case load so they do their part too.

The only downside is that I now have a large bundt sized pound cake which is like an alcoholic bringing home a gallon of booze. Tomorrow I may just distribute parts to folks in my immediate area. I nibbled on it on the way home so it looked as though mice had been at it. When I got home I thawed some frozen berries and put them on a respectable slice along with some fat free, sugar free vanilla yogurt. Mmm good. Maybe I should slice off the ragged parts and deliver it to the patient. His sister in law told me that he's near coma so no doubt beyond cake. His mom is taking care of him and the sister in law and brother live on the same property with three children, several horses, goats and a donkey. There are uncles and aunts all around. No matter how little money one has, one is never really poor when they have that.

Well, I've made myself feel teary so I'll stop here.

By the way, Marion. People who sail like that are adrenalin junkies just like mountain climbers, auto race drivers, surgeons and war correspondents. I think it's built in. I have a friend who did "black work" to wit, under cover cloak and dagger work for years in exotic places and it is obvious that he misses the danger now that he's past 70. I know that because he talks about it at least vaguely when he knows perfectly well he'd be prosecuted for such conversation but I understand to a certain degree. He takes anti-anxiety drugs, anti-depressant, sleeping aids all because, as his doctor says, people who live on the edge for years are in such a stage of constant stress and alertness that their adrenal glands are in constant commotion which won't go away just because they retired. Nobody drafted him; he obviously loved living that way. He's told me that one can take a pill that darkens one's complexion so that if you dress in a burnoose and the rest of the near eastern garb one can "pass" as long as you keep your mouth shut. I'm pretty tough intellectually but I hate pain and fear. I've joked that if I were in possession of some government secret and somebody who just looked mean started to question me I'd say "Take my first born, I'll give you anything, just don't hurt me!"

Jane the coward

posted by Jane in NC @ 8:50 PM