Thursday, February 7, 2013

AWAITING THE BIG ONE

1978: I had fled the East Coast, a Wells College graduate nursing a busted heart, leaving everyone I had known or loved, landing with my back to the Pacific and my dreams clinging like dust to my brain. I was hardly there when winter hit the East and buried it under a few feet of snow.

I was dealing with politics and sociological phenomena like the murder of Harvey Milk and Jonestown. Weather, no matter how severe, (there were giant fire storms singeing my backyard even as it snowed in Gardner, MA) was not on my priority list. (God forgive my callousness or ignorance.) Well, the Universe, which I take very personally, is making me re-live the moments I'd missed:

I finally go to the doctor on Monday to find that my sister was right: massive sinus infection. All those blueberries evidently kept it on the back burner for months and kept it out of my brain, so I didn't die--but I could have. Maybe. Or so I'm told.  Now, big anti-biotics for the next week. Massive head-aches, gross stuff blowing out of my nose by the minute and no sleep. But I have to carry on...

Tutoring. Kids are defiant and don't want to do homework at home. Want me to watch them read. Want to discuss "life" and not biology. Come in just a little late. Take forever to get set up. Want to finish early...meanwhile I am blowing my nose every second and apologizing for it. All gender wars aside, when tutoring male teens, even this gross behavior is excused quite readily...

Come out of the Library. It is almost zero degrees F. My nose finally stops running. It is frozen.
My back tire is flatter than a book page. I knew it was low earlier, but not like this. Evidently the air temp did it in. I am outside and the Library has closed and it will take AAA at least an hour to get here...My student comes out and offers to go to his home, pick up his airpump, come back, inflate my tire and see me home!  What a sweetie. I agree, reluctantly.

We take turns sitting in my heated car and running the pump. It takes twenty freezing minutes. I limp home. I put the car in the driveway, knowing I'll have to move it in the morning.  I go inside and tell the parental units what has occurred. No one seems phased. However, then, over dinner, I am told fifteen versions of what to do.  I decide to move the car into the street, risk a ticket, better allowing AAA to get it in the a.m. with a towtruck and to allow Mom and Pop access out of the garage--if need be.  Of course everyone balks.

I move the car.
Much family feuding.
I get up in the a.m. Call AAA. They send a tow truck which takes two hours to arrive and involves three more calls back and forth. I get towed to the tire place. I get a lecture on how I shoulda bought four tires when I put the front ones on.  I finally tell the tire dude: Hey! You aren't helping! Let's just put on new back ones, okay?

(Tire guy finally shut up and put on new back tires)Two hundred and ten bucks. My entire last check for tutoring...sigh. No new sneakers this month! I leave an hour later.
Pick up anti-biotics and juice and salsa fresca.
Get home.
Park in driveway praying everyone is in for the night.
Come inside.

"So, your sister said you went to the doctor for something yesterday?  I thought it was just your usual check-up..." from Mom.

"How were the tires?  Expensive, right...?" Dad.

Before I can answer, we are back to "The Storm".

It's coming. All the plows are lined up. Everyone is charging their devices and buying back up batteries. Two storms to meet right over Gardner. Thunder and lightning in the blizzard--sounds like the wrath of God to me!

"I saw thunder and lightning in a blizzard before...no big deal..."  Mom. ( Unless it is about her body, nothing is 'a big deal'...)

We eat and they discuss the storm.
Thirty-six inches on Friday to Saturday. Power outages. That means, no snowblowing brother...I cringe, expecting shoveling with a rag shoved up each nostril and my car stuck in the driveway with nobody going anywhere.

I pour some more juice and pray.  

No comments:

Post a Comment