Saturday, October 8, 2011

Lookin for something new to eat? Cheese n pickel sandwich

Davisville Road hosts two awful yard sales: tons of overpriced junk, uncleaned kids' toys and a small cracked hall mirror with the price reduced from $10 to $7. Goodbye! she thought, hurrying back to her car and fantasizing about going home and eating a bowl of almonds and raisins.

During my 1 hour and 58-min conversation with retired therapist Judy, we talked about many things. She'll make an appearance in the next Compass under the column Pursue the Wonderful where she talks about her magnificent garden, her love of movies, politics and C-Span.

I told her the movies Scott and I watched recently: The wonderful crime thriller Lovely Bones with Stanley Tucci playing the serial killer. That man can pull everything off! He was Julia Child's husband, not easy b/c Child was played by Meryl Streep.

When I told Judy we watched Juno, she said Isn't Ellen Page incredible?

Oh, so that's her name, I said. Yes indeed.

She told me to get Hard Candy.

Yessum!

Tonite we watched another serial killer movie The Lodger with Albert Molina.

When we knew the killer was about to strike, I started fidgeting.

Scott, I said, I changed my mind. Let's watch the silent Douglas Fairbanks movie.

Make up your mind, Ruth!

Oh, I'm only kidding, I said, watching the high-heeled shoes of the victim as pursued by the booted killer.

A minimum of gore.

Last nite and today I worked on a 10-page synopsis of the mother-daughter book Sarah and I are writing about the kidney transplant. This is the first assignment from my new class Writing Creative NonFiction.

Really hard getting started but once I got into the rhythm I forced myself to keep writing and finish the thing. It probably took three hours but needs revising.

Decided to revise it over lunch at Flori's restaurant five minutes away.

Figures I'd get into a conversation with a woman at a nearby table.

She looked rather unhealthy. Told me she had insulin-dependent diabetes.

Ditto, I said. Do you carry these in your pocketbook? I asked, reaching in and showing her my glucose tabs you take when your sugar gets dangerously low and you can go into a coma and die.

No, she said, I just drive to a store and buy some juice.

Insanely stupid!

Then she mentioned she'd had a kidney transplant six years ago.

Me, too, I said....in April.

I had so many questions to ask her.

What meds dyou take and how many?

She takes the same amount of Cellcept as I do (mine had recently been lowered due to an infection) but her Prograf level is half that of mine. So, god willing, I can look forward to that someday. I take three of the little beasts - I mean little darlings - morning and night.

Have you had any problems like the BKU virus.

She never heard of it. It entered the bloodstream of a friend of mine and caused kidney rejection so that Denis is now on dreaded dialysis Tues Thurs and Sat.

She does have kidney stones tho due to her body's inability to process vitamin C, she said.

Then she began telling me her personal problems.

I was eating a delicious home-cooked meatball sandwich so didn't mind listening. Well, I did mind listening, but didn't wanna be impolite. Impolitic, yes. Impolite no. What the heck does impolitic mean?

When I told therapist Judy all this, she said, yes it happens to her too. We have a way, she said, of being a good listener, cocking our head, using certain body language that is irresistible to certain people.

I'm on my way to the Holy Redeemer thrift shop I told her as I stood up and headed for the door. She followed me out the door. Her operation took place at the University of Pennsylvania, which is where Sharon Piercy will go when her number comes up.

I wanted to look at couches at the thrift shop. I can certainly live with my couches but I have reasons for wanting to replace them.

First, tho, there were two yard sales I wanted to check out on Davisville Road.

The baseball field offered parking in the lot.

Upon getting out of my car, I was startled. No, there wasn't a serial killer waiting for me. Instead it was a shimmying garter snake camouflaged on the asphalt. I wanted to make sure he got safely across the grass. But my instinctive reaction was a startle response. See him scurry into the grass?


I wrote one of my award-losing poems Ode to A Garter Snake about a little fellow who died on my driveway. The most famous snake poem is by Emily Dickinson. Click here.

When I went for my nightly walk last nite in the dark I heard screaming in the house next door. Yes, screams. But I am not nosy so I kept walking on. As I walked down the Cowbell Hill everyone had on their TVs.

I stood in front of one house to see what they were watching on their drive-in size screen.

All I could see was a baseball pitcher, body contorted, and throwing a speeding pitch.

Then I remembered. The Phillies play-off.

It was a pitcher's game. The Phils lost 1-0 so won't go to the play-offs.

You see, I do care.

Next poem, please! Written around 2001. And then we'll take a break from our sponsor.

BARNES AND NOBLE: A GUIDED TOUR

When things go wrong
when the sun don't shine
and the bread don't rise
and the call don't come
you can always go down to
Barnes and Noble
Lit like a string of pearls.

But if you're lonely and go there
No one will soothe your soul
No one except maybe the Coffee Girl
Whose dancing earrings, if you're lucky
may just rock you into something vaguely
resembling peace
But don't count on it, my friend.

I've come for Rimbaud,
I read him every ten years,
You may wish to do the same.
Perhaps I can be of help.

Simply pull the slim volume titled
Season in Hell
off the shelf
Take it, if you will, to a quiet station,
off the main drag
or better yet
Find your own place amongst
high and fragrant grasses and
a nearby lake where you can bathe your face
you might lie there in the noonday sun while
you turn to any page your heart desires
But I must warn you, my friend, you must
come to the encounter clean:
As yourself
not pretending to be anything more
than who you really are.
Your bladder emptied, your thirst abated
Your heart must be still as
a sleeping bird,
not pounding with remembrance of yesterday's ectasies
So, with quiet acceptance and lowered eyes
you will arrive like a pitcher
emptied of all its contents
- open,
willing to receive
flowing with space
and then you may turn to the title page.

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