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I Can Only Give Thanks
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I Can Only Give Thanks |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
It was my first site visit and I was excited. I grabbed the camera, notebook and car keys, told my boss I was ready and waited impatiently for him to put on his boots and coat. "Yes," I laughed, "I have film. I have pens. The directions are right here ~ they are 55 miles out of town." I had driven the first fifteen of those miles when he told me that I would conduct the interview. My face registered my shock ~ I saw my expression in my rearview mirror. Turning to him, I grinned and said that was a cheap shot and begged him to let me watch. Our laughter quieted as we saw horses, snow covered hay fields and ice-coated trees. It was a long drive out there on a beautiful, cold winter day, and I would have enjoyed it so much more if I were not nervous about arriving at our destination. Proudly, I remembered the directions and we did not need the hand drawn map that my boss clutched. I drove up the icy road and remembered that my mother was the only person I know who actually said "country lane." The driveway to the home was deeply rutted and the snow appeared to have no solid foundation under it. I parked on the road and we walked in. As we approached the dwelling, an elderly man walked from behind an out building. He was thin with a long, unkempt, dirty gray beard; his nose had that veiny look that implied a lifestyle that once included alcohol and his over sized, tortoise-framed glasses were held together with black electrician's tape. He shook our hands and asked why we did not drive down the driveway; I answered that I had grown up in a rural area and I trust no driveway. He invited us in and pushed open the heavy plywood door. The home was dim. That was the first thing I noticed as I followed him down a path in a canyon of boxes. I heard dogs barking. The house was actually two prefabricated modular structures, dating back to the days of the TransAlaska Pipeline construction almost thirty years ago. We walked through a door and my eyes widened slightly as I quickly looked around. The room was filled with a queen size bed and stuff. That was all I could mentally capture ... there was stuff everywhere. Old newspapers strewn on the floor surrounding mildewed books, a microwave on a homemade shelf with over flowing ashtrays on it, two plates heaped with hot dogs and beans on the dirty rumpled bedding, dogs hiding under the bed, and a corpulent woman in shorts and a V-neck T-shirt sitting in the middle of the bed eating lunch. "Hello," I said, "It is nice to meet you finally." I shook her grimy hand. She gestured to a chair, which had one arm missing and I sat carefully. My boss leaned against the door and casually asked questions as I scribbled copious notes. I tried to listen to his interview questions, but instead found myself admiring the ease in which he spoke. He was direct and friendly, acting as if this was a normal interview setting. The phone rang and the woman excused herself. We could not help but over hear as she chastised the Air Force for flying their bombers in the vicinity of her home and releasing harmful emissions that were potentially dangerous to her and her family. It was apparent that she did not often leave the bed and everything was within her reach. Cigarettes, ashtrays, food, microwave, television were all within an arm's reach. I could not help but remember the mother in the movie, "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" and made a mental note to hug my own mother that evening and thank her. I used to think that I grew in a messy house, but saw how much more it could have been. She hung up the phone and spoke of what the plans were. The well was dug, but pipe had to be run from the well to the house. The septic needed to be hooked up. The out building that was to be the Wash House had to be finished ~ she could not shower or bathe as she could not leave her bed easily. We discussed which options were available to them, and how we could possibly make their lives a bit more comfortable and, perhaps, a little easier. I gathered up my notes as we prepared to leave and stood. As I reached for my jacket, I looked up and stared silently. I swallowed my tears. She had mentioned in a phone call that she had parakeets, and I spoke to them softly. The cage was beautiful and the water was clean. Someone had decorated the cage in a manner that would have made Martha Stewart proud. There were dried grasses that contrasted beautifully with the blue of the birds ~ the toys hung in well thought out sections of the cage. As I whispered, the birds sang. Quietly, I joined my boss outside after saying my good-byes and we walked through the snow to the car. I drove in silence for miles before I looked at him and said, "I can only give thanks." |
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| © Copyright 2007 Alison - All Rights Reserved | |||
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scarletbegonias Member
since 2007-05-15
Posts 59 |
'ziza you know im just a hack here and i dont even know what prose is... but this is a wonderful story. i was glued to your words and have read it 4 times already. in case i miss something. i know you better now and know what? i love you even more. thank you for so many things. |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Alison, Your story is well told and leaves many questions unanswered. But after years of social work I know exactly what that home looked like. So I truly appreciate your gratefulness. Nicely done.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I'm catching up on my reading, Alison... so it was a pleasure to get to read this. Question, however. You were to have conducted the interview, correct? What changed that your boss did so? |
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MoonShadow Senior Member
since 2001-08-02
Posts 943Dark side of the Moon. |
Alison, wonderful narrative filled with delightful imagery. I had been searching for something special to read and am glad I found you... ah.. I mean.. yours. Thank you for sharing such a precious piece of prose. MoonShadow . |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Nice writing...James |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
Larry, Sunshine, Moonshadow and James ~ Thank you all for reading my essay. This day made some significant impacts upon me - and it lingers years later. Thank you again, Alison (aziza) |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
An exceellent piece of writing. The interview must have been very enlightening. "Late" |
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