by Amy Stinnett
Elliot and I hungrily slurped down our meal, as the weather station on the radio told us about the much needed snow pack and the upcoming week’s highs and lows. I was surprised how comfortable it was, just eating and listening to the reports. We were so glad to be out of the cold, and the stew tasted like a steaming bowl of heaven. I think I would have eaten it if the bags had said “baby rhino” or “fly larvae” on them.
After a few minutes to let the stew settle and our fingers thaw a little more, we headed back outside. We walked the goat fence, and Elliot showed me places where branches or goats had pulled the electric fence loose, how to unhook the voltage, and how to make repairs by wrapping the wire around a connector and twisting ends together. He had a spool of wire, and we cut off pieces when the downed wire was too short to reconnect. I kept slipping my gloves on and off, but my fingers were nearly frozen again by the time we got done with the fence.
The wind calmed, and we went over and checked on the dogs which I’d only seen from a distance. There are six hunting or herding dogs that stay in a kennel not far from the house. For the most part, they are friendly dogs. There are two brown ones that go by one name, TNT (short for Trevor and Trenton), and look like a mix between beagles and labs. Some kind of hunting dogs, I’m guessing. There is a timid Australian Shepherd named Pippin, a gregarious black lab named Lucy, a giant babyish Great Pyrenees named Bruno, and a stubby-looking Scotty mix called Frodo.
The whole team is like one big family, and even though they like company and bark like crazy whenever they see us approaching, they seem content in their captivity. Their set-up was designed well, with heated dog houses for everybody, and a big shed-like thing for them to be fed and watered (two heated water dishes) and for them to lounge in and stay out of the wind and weather. Their food is kept outside the run in a deck box. There were chew toys, tennis balls, and sticks all over the run. Lucy, trying to ingratiate herself to me, brought a soggy tennis ball over and dropped it at my feet. Elliot warned me not to throw it unless I wanted to be there all day, so I just scratched Lucy behind the ears and helped Elliot finish feeding the dogs.
We gave them all a “look-over” to make sure there were no signs of cold exposure or injury. When we closed up, Elliot pulled Bruno out, took her over to the gate of the goat field, and told her, “Go to work!” Yep, Bruno's a girl, and her “work” is to watch the property all night. She took off and started walking the fence.
After Elliot and I gathered eggs again, he showed me how to close the main gate when I left, where the key was hidden in a little box attached to one of the posts. What an idiot I am! I have driven past the gate without even noticing it. I wonder if Elliot has come back over and closed it after I left or if he was still on the property somewhere? It’s all a mystery.
After Elliot went home, I decided to spend a little time in the house. I sat in the living room, taking it all in, and trying to pull just one memory from my childhood into my conscious mind, but I was at a loss. I stared at the door to my dad’s bedroom, waiting. For what I don’t know. I was frozen and could feel my muscles start to ache after the long, cold day outside. Now, I know I’m no athlete or anything, but it blows me away how much work these guys do. Today would probably be nothing for my dad and Elliot.
I was torn a couple of ways. I desperately wanted to connect with my dad, but at the same time, I felt like it would be invading his privacy to start tearing his house apart. His voice boomed in my head, “Come on, Outlaw, I don’t have any privacy anymore. Death kinda removes the need for standing on ceremony.”
I got up and opened his door. I took a step inside and let my eyes settle on every inch of his room, from the tidy bookshelf, filled with his personal reading material – philosophy, sci-fi, old journals, and classics, to the wall of hooks that held his clothes, hats, and belts, and to his shoes lined up evenly along the wall. I felt a twinge of connection, these objects he touched and suited to his use. I thought of my own possessions, crammed into a corner of Liv’s garage. Not so long ago, they were laid out in drawers and hung up neatly like these.
His dresser top held a photo of me at my high school graduation and a wooden pipe caddy with four pipes, a spotless ashtray, and a container of tobacco. His nightstand held a recharging flashlight and a book with yellowing pages, open and face down, but gently so as not to break the spine. It was Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. Dad’s bed had the sheet and blankets turned down as if awaiting his return. I sat on the bed and picked up his pillow. It smelled like him, musky cologne mixed with faint traces of tobacco. I hugged the pillow and closed my eyes. What would it have been like to have been around him more? How would my life be different? How would I be different?
I still don’t have the keys figured out and I don’t know if Elliot has one to the house, so I left the door unlocked. On the way out, I stopped and locked up the gate, noticing the trash can sitting empty, no stiff legs sticking out, just the memory of the goat we lost.
It was near pitch dark, and the sky was starting to spit snow again, as I headed back to Liv’s. The shush of the tires made me a little drowsy, but I could not bring myself to turn the radio on. The ring of keys on the passenger seat kept me company, and to entertain myself, I thought about what locks the keys might go to – shed doors, vehicles, maybe a safe?
What would Dad keep in a safe? Maybe I’ll get Liv to come out with me next time. I am more tired than I have ever been in my life, but I had to get everything written down so I could sleep. I will have to figure out some sort of schedule so I can get my office work done, too. I have a nagging feeling I forgot to do something before I left the farm.
January 30, 2013
Last Tuesday (catching up my entries)
Well, the thing that was bothering me that day was that I didn’t get the gate latched that goes to the chicken coops. And what’s worse, I slept in the next morning and didn’t get out there until around 1:00. So the rounding up of birds fell to Elliot and our neighbor, Sheila Ybarra, who stopped to help him on her way out to get her groceries. She’s the one who has been picking up supplies for the farm since Dad got sick. I felt like an idiot for being so reckless, but Elliot said anybody could have done the same thing. He doesn’t think we lost any birds, at least. Goes to show, I am not cut out to be a farmer.
It was a little bit warmer than the day before, so I walked across the road to Sheila’s to tell her I was sorry about bugging her. I asked Elliot about taking her some eggs or stew, but he said, “Naw, we already traded. But let her know I saw her roan is looking a little weedy, so they need their hay checked over and more supplements, and see if she needs to get her teeth floated or get her wormed.” That was probably the most Elliot had ever said to me at one time so far. I’m not complaining. He does an incredible amount of work, and he is really easy to get along with.
I do have to say, though, Sheila is a spitfire. She invited me into her house and wouldn’t let me leave without having some coffee with her. She showed me about forty pictures of her husband, kids, and grand kids, and she told me how her “sweet” husband passed on two years and three months ago. She leaned in and confided in me, “I didn’t even tell my daughter, but I’ll tell you. I wanted to lay down and die, too, but I got too much life left in me. I got my horses, church, the food bank, and seems there’s always nice new people showing up, like you.” She touched my wrist. “Hon, and you should see me when I get to Tempe. I am up at sunrise, playing with those babies, and I fall asleep in my chair after dinner, like a old person. I know, you think I’m old, but I never did feel old ‘til the day Argi came back from tending the sheep and sat in that chair over there …” She pointed to an orange rocker/recliner. “And cried. He wasn’t ashamed of crying, cried whenever he needed to – over lost loved ones, over nearly losing our Jinny, over many a people’s troubles – but never for his own pain. He said ‘I’m gonna have to quit, Sheila. I don’t have it in me no more.’ He sold the sheep off and was gone a year later. Anyway, I t
hank you for letting me know about Rosemarie.” It took me a minute to realize she meant the horse.
“Oh, of course,” I said.
On my way out, I asked her if she had internet, since I was thinking about getting the service for the farm. She said she only had TV on internet and it was really expensive. “You know, your daddy helped me every once in a while when it went down. It’s funny, he knew everything you’d ever need to know about computers, but he never did have it at his own place. He said he could watch all the TV he wanted to on tapes and DVD’s. When he needed a computer, he went to the library in town.”
After about an hour I got back to the farm and helped Elliot with the dogs and chickens, paying special attention that I latched the gates properly. I stayed late that day to finish wiping out and rearranging the kitchen cabinets. Dad has a lot of canning jars, full of every kind of fruit and vegetable I’ve ever heard of and some I have not. There were blackberries, Marion berries, peaches, pears, tomatoes, squash, green beans, corn, salsa, pickles, and garlic. Whatever quince is, it is pretty. Besides that, he had some dented cans I’m assuming he bought by the case and a few canisters of things like noodles, flour, and sugar. It looks like he has had a mouse or two, but no possum. It creeped me out a bit, but maybe cleaning the place up will make them go away.
Before I left, I went over to the small TV Dad kept on a bookshelf a few feet from his recliner. The top shelves held DVD’s, probably a hundred or so- Westerns, Sci-fi, a Nova series, and various popular movies. The shelf under the TV was filled with VHS tapes. There were cartoons, sing-a-longs, and some Christmas shows. There was a copy of Prancer, the movie about a little girl named Virginia who believes in Santa Clause. I know it’s sappy, but that was one of my favorite movies growing up. I guess Dad held onto it, maybe all of these tapes, for me. I have started to feel closer to him, spending all my time on the farm, but it hit me all of a sudden how much of his life I have missed out on. I mean, an entire technological advancement, VHS to DVD, took place during the years when I could count the times I had seen him on my fingers and toes and still have digits left over. I wish I had somebody to watch these tapes with. Maybe someday.
When I got back to Liv’s, I tried to stay up and work on an assignment from my boss that was due on Friday, but I zonked out after a half hour.
Last Wednesday
I managed to get out to the farm early, so I didn't feel bad about leaving at 2:00. I remembered Sheila saying Dad used the library in Emmett for Wi-Fi, so I went there to get my work done. They were really nice. An older lady named June and a woman about my age, Jodie, got me all set up on a desktop. It was easier to do the updates on my laptop and see the changes on the desktop. They were only open until 6:00, but I got a lot done. Jodie is cute. Too bad she's straight. I know I shouldn't because she is a user and manipulator, but I miss Ton-Ton. I miss being in a couple, having someone to go home to.
Last Thursday
About the same as Wednesday. There was a kids’ program at the library. They were adorable, getting all excited about arts and crafts. I remember doing those at my after school program. I think my mom still has this thing I made her. I took a little book and covered it in gold paint and glitter which glued all the pages and cover together. Then I wrote, “You Are #1 in My Book, Mom” as the title in black paint. I am exhausted but almost finished with the coding changes that Vincent sent me.
Last Friday
After I finished the assignment and got back to Liv’s, I made the mistake of telling her that I was feeling a little lonely, so she wanted to drag me off to a couple of bars and would not take no for an answer. First we went to a gay bar, The Balcony. Liv kept pointing out cute and not so cute girls to me. There were a lot of straight girls there, bumping and grinding on each other. Normally, I find that kind of sad and cute, but in the state of mind I’ve been in, it just made me want to puke. It was nice to hang out with Liv, but, mercifully, we left after an hour and went to a bar called Humpin’ Hannah’s, which I did not hold out a lot of hope for. But we had a good time. We sat upstairs and watched all sorts of people walk past us on the sidewalk outside, then Nate joined us, and we went down to the dance floor for a few songs. Nate is growing on me. I mean, a lot of people change for their partner, and Liv is changing. I just don’t want her to lose herself being his girlfriend, wife, co-owners of a house, baby-mama, or whatever they become. And I swear, if they get a pug, I will be gone the next day and take Liv with me. She keeps trying to get me to go get a tattoo with her. Uh, nope.
Last Saturday
So, after getting home at 3 a.m., we had the great idea to get up early and go skiing. Nate is a freak for skiing, and Liv is getting to be, so I agreed to tag along. I have only skied a few times in my life: a couple when I was a little kid, a couple when Mom and I came back to my grandparents for Christmas break, and once at the Summit at Snoqualmie. The last time, I managed to get off the kiddie slope and ski one of the regular hills. I figured I could do that again.
We sang along with the Black Eyed Peas and chatted nonstop along the twisty-turny road up to Bogus Basin. Traffic was not too bad that early. Liv offered to rent me some skis, but I really need to reign in how much financial help I take from her. I felt like a total sponge. I had to borrow bibs from her because I had ruined the only pair I had out at the farm. Now, I was going to have to borrow her boots and skis to save money, and she was going to pay for my lift ticket. She said she would take a break after a while, and she’d wait to get me a lift ticket until then.
We hiked across the parking lot to the lodge with their gear bags and skis, crunching hard-packed snow as we went. Liv and Nate headed off to their separate locker rooms, and I wandered off to check out the lodge. It was still kind of early, with only a handful of serious skiers there, ready to hit the slopes before the droves showed up. I shuffled past rows and rows of empty tables and blue metal chairs and went outside. The air was fresh and brilliant, strangely reminding me of a crisp apple and sheets warm from the dryer. I breathed in heavily and felt my stress melt away.
After a few minutes, I went back inside and sat down at a table facing the window and pulled out my dad’s copy of Stranger in a Strange Land. I thought I would give it a read. A lot of passages were highlighted, and notes were scribbled down the sides of the pages. I flipped to a random page and found one of his highlighted sections. It read:
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another is essential to your own.
And Dad wrote next to this:
Never forget this. Love is an action. In ways many and small. Love others until you see how essential they are to you.
I thought that was pretty profound for my Dad. I turned back to the beginning and started to read. Moments later, I was asleep across the table. About three hours later, Liv woke me up. I was on the floor behind a bunch of oversized gear bags, and I have no idea how I got there. The bags were grey and black, like my clothes, so I blended in.
“Dude?! We were looking all over for you. You didn’t answer your phone!”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and it was dead. I sat up and told her I was sorry.
“That farm is wearing you out. Nate and I should go look at it and see if it’s even habitable. You are welcome at our place anytime, you know that, but maybe you need to stay out there during the week and back to our place on the weekend.” I told her she was probably right. Nate walked up just then.
“Oh, she’s okay,” he sighed a relief. Then, realizing I was on the floor, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Liv answered for me, “but she’s exhausted! We have got to do something about it. Right?”
Nate looked at me for an answer, and I yawned my mouth open like an alligator. “Yes, of course,” he agreed.
“We can’t go out tomorrow because we have a thing at church.” She’d invited me a few times but finally gave up. “How about next Saturday?”
“Okay.” I tried to picture her and Nate in Dad’s living room, but the
physics of it failed me.
Last Sunday
I slept the entire morning and part of the afternoon. I got up when Liv and Nate got back from church and went out for coffee by myself. I drove up to the train depot and looked out over Boise. I remember coming here as a kid – just barely. I thought of calling Mom but texted her instead.
Hope everything’s good. How’s Starvey?
Mom had been dating a guy named Harvey who ate like a starving Grizzly bear and had a bit of a beer gut.
Don’t call him that. And he’s fine. Hannah and his new g’daughter are staying with us. How are you, baby?
Hannah was Harvey’s daughter with his second wife. Mom would be his third if she’d ever agree, but she’s refused his proposal for close to a year. I think he may be resigned to living in sin by now.
Cold.
No duh. Farm going well?
Ish. Probably need to move in for a while if I ever want to get it ready to sell.
Liv tired of you?
No. I’m tired of the commute. She feels bad for me.
Fish and houseguests, baby.
Huh?
They stink after three days. I miss you.
Me, too. Bye.
Call me soon.
Monday – Wednesday (Today)
This week I am following the same schedule as last week, morning on chores, afternoon at the library, but I decided to stay over tonight. I had dinner from stuff out of the cabinet. Green beans, corn, a corn dog from the convenient store, and for desert, blackberry jam on some crackers that miraculously were not stale. I’ve been writing the last week down before I forget things, but I should probably go to sleep now, it’s just really quiet out here. And dark.
January 31, 2013 (Thursday)
When I woke up it was still dark. I decided to make a quick trip to the coffee kiosk next to the convenient store about 15 minutes from here. The sun started coming up, as I headed back with an extra macchiato for Sheila and a hot chocolate for Elliot. I saw Elliot about halfway down the road, so I pulled up to my spot and carried the drink holder back down to the gate to meet him. “How-do,” he said. He pulled his wool hat down, accepted the hot chocolate, and thanked me.