the slab

An inadvertent self portrait wrecks a beautiful scene.

 It's not the slab itself I like so much, although it has a certain concrete charm, but the road that traverses the slab. One of the first things I do when I get to Missouri is to drive that road. And one of the last things too. I guess I have one trip more tomorrow before heading out on Tuesday. But yesterday the timing and the light were perfect.

My favorite tree is, sadly, on its way out.

David at the slab

chillin'

evening in the ozarks

 I don't usually post sunset pictures (because trite) but once in a while I'm wowed. Thomasville on one recent evening put on quite a show, with a beautiful sky and roping practice—with a fake calf towed by a four wheeler. When I pulled up in my truck, several people came over to see who I was and what I was doing there. They chilled when they found out I was a neighbor (and which neighbor).

politicks is local

Onward and upward. This is Missouri, where Trump won with 20 percent of the vote and Sen. Claire McCaskill is a lone, endangered Democrat. Her fate (and maybe ours) will be decided in November. The big primary race here in the West Plains, Mo., area is for circuit judge. My cronies are supporting Melissa Stewart. I don't vote here and thus don't follow too closely, but you can't but note that a lot of women are running. Stephanie Kernodle, for instance, and the thought of Kernodle in a kerfuffle. . .

brunch with punch

 We foregathered at 11:30 am. We parted around 8 pm. In between we ate two types of gazpacho, shrimp ceviche, peach and cherry salad, watermelon surprise and quiche. And, oh yeah, the lemon-raspberry-blackberry (? post Champagne and wine and etc) sorbet-granita.
  The guest list included a former owner/publisher/editor of the local daily newspaper, a rancher, an AIDS activist, a former judge, and the town's only writers of reknown, Katie (Dahlia's Gone) Estill and her husband Dan (Winter's Bone) Woodrell of country noir fame.
  We all had a swell time talking to people (of about the same certain age) with evolved vocabularies.

selfie in the acka emma

 The upstairs of the Goose was untouched by the flood. Had I been here, I would have been out on the porch being rescued by boat. The porch now overlooks a concrete slab where Bear's house used to be and a lot of greenery where other houses used to be. Bonfires and bulldozers and dump trucks ply the neighborhood with the remains of Thomasville. But a fair number of people are rebuilding. Some have gifted land or house shells to younger relatives or others who have the energy to start over. Me, I think this is the last time I can renovate. I just can't paint any more!

country life

Always love birds on a wire—even if they are always starlings.
    It's August. I just realized I have to leave this country pretty soon. With my painting of the Goose downstairs only about half done. How can it take so long to paint one room? And not even beginning the bathroom. I guess part of it is it's hard to paint and live in the same 16- by 22-foot space. And part of it is I'm a shitty painter who hates painting.

virginia's dream

Virginia got all dressed up—"with a necklace and everything"—to get her picture made for her new driver's license, but the DMV wanted an eye test. Whoops! No renewal until she gets new glasses.
   On her way back, she saw me in the yard and stopped. We sat on the tailgate of my truck, since I had mopped myself out of the house.
   "I had this dream about you last night, that you drove me to New York City." She had already told me that she would love to visit and see the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade memorial, the Empire State building. I'm sure they wouldn't measure up to the Bible theme park in Tennessee (the one with dinosaurs coexisting with people) where, she said, "I learned so much history." Sigh. But anyway her husband, who calls her "Baby," doesn't want to go to the city. I told her I could drive her one way, but she'd have to fly the other. She wondered how much that would cost.
   We chatted, and she gave me a hug as she left, saying, "I just love visiting with you."


  

news from all over

So this happened outside Frank and Dianne's driveway last night. Dianne took the picture from the tractor, where she sat preparing to  flip the truck back over, with the counsel of the sheriff.
  She did it! Dude put a wheel back on and drove off.
  In other Ozark news, here's a video urging tourists to return after last year's floods.
  And in Block Island news, here's a brief video urging tourists to help preserve the island.
  And in Thomasville news, now I mop.

marketing

If they can't grow it, there's always the grocery store.

An Amish group has moved nearby, probably seeking the same thing most incomers are looking for: cheap land, privacy and little government interference. They sell produce and handcrafts at the just-opened farmer's market in Alton. We now have highway signs warning of buggies. Plenty has been written about the Amish and their approach to modern society, but their separateness is still striking to the beholder. How they hang onto these kids is beyond me.

Transportation parked under the trees at the farmers' market.

Wishing they had Internet?

cooling off

They call this place "The Slab." Often, the place where the road crosses the river is underwater, but this is summer, and the river is low.When people in the Ozarks want to have a good time, they go to the river and park themselves in it for the day. The water isn't cold, for those of us who come from the Northeast, but it's refreshingly cool. The kids build dams and catch crawdads, just as my brother and I did in Arkansas creeks years ago. Flashback.

the new goose

 This corner is getting there—note new tiny dishwasher, which arrived when regular UPS driver Roger returned. Still a lot of painting, and shelving, to do. Aaand—that's what the other side of the room looks like.
   There's a fair amount of Donna news (other than she wants me to write captions for her forthcoming book). She has a lecture coming up and there's a very fun doc on the making of "A Day in the Life of Australia" 30 some years ago which you can watch here for familiar faces.
  And here is a $3.5 million property on Cutt's Island in Maine, where my family used to summer. This was once Rayne's farm. When I lived there one summer helping on the dairy farm, Mrs. Raynes cooked our meals on a wood stove. And now this!

rebel yells

This guy saved my ass last year when I was putting my house back together after the flood. He replumbed, re-electrified, put in windows and doors and a new bathroom and a new kitchen. It was quick and dirty and cheap. I did not focus on his tattoos, except to wonder if he had administered them to himself in prison. And then I saw the swastika.
   Would he have saved my ass if he'd known I was married to a Jew?
   Was it a relic of a heavy metal past rather than a statement of belief?
   And how could I open a discussion about it?
   I thought of many opening lines.
   "Do you know how that symbol hurts my heart?"
   "Why do you have a swastika on your arm?" (and don't give me that bullshit about a mystical Indian symbol)
   "Are you a white supremacist?"
   "Have you ever met a Jew?"

    I could have fired him, risking insult to the neighbor who introduced us.
   And risking more, since dude had my key, and my house is open and often empty anyway. In the middle of a ghost town. Miles from the nearest actual town. He knows where I live.

   And PS, groundskeepers just had to remove a giant swastika  burned in the grass of an Omaha park where World War II vets who fought against the Nazis are honored.

   And now I have the kid with a decal that's a cross between the Gadsen flag ("Don't Tread on Me," lately adopted by the Tea Party and guns rights people) and the confederate battle flag of Virginia. It reads "American by Birth; Rebel by Choice." Without the semicolon.
   "Do you understand the history of those flags?"
   "Are you a racist?"
   "Have you ever even seen a black person except on TV?" (The Ozarks are very white.)
    "What do you think of treason?"
    Etc.

    These guys are not dumb, but they are ignorant—maybe didn't finish high school. Poor and clinging to the next payday to fix the truck. I don't show their faces, but they have nice smiles. They love their daughters. I am very prejudiced against them. As a group. As individuals, it's tough to hate. I daresay they feel the same about me.

I don't know what I can do about it.
It hurts my heart.
  

summer fare

It's happening. People can't give away cucumbers and squash. (Virginia said she had made as many pickles as she could tolerate.) The tomatoes are coming in. Here is a recipe for tomato toast (in case you are tired of avocado toast) that Douglas sent me from the NYT. I will spare you any recipes for karela, or bitter melon, since you won't like it unless you acquired a taste for it having a) lived in India or China b) cancer or c) diabetes. Yes, karela is said to have many health benefits, some of which have even been proven! Me, I just like it. I like to eat it, and I like the vine that two years ago climbed up to Toby's apartment. Trying to start some here, though late in the season. . .

out

I'm a fan of outbuildings—even outhouses—as long as they aren't that prefab kind in the parking lot of Home Depot (though actually, I've even eyed them from time to time). But this particular example, which should be recognizable to some of my friends here in the Ozarks, is a favorite. It has everything.

driveby

After his job at a generator factory, Brandon has been coming by to put screen doors on the Goose and do some other odd jobs. Brandon is 22, and he has a five-year-old daughter by a former girlfriend. His wife drove by with her five-year-old and their two-year-old, both girls, to say howdy. They all live near here in a trailer. Brandon lives with his mother. This is the Ozarks.

what's different?

Night/After

Day/After

Before

What is different about the before picture and the after picture? A week of work. It has taken me that long. As most of you know, I typically start with my view from the kitchen table and work outwards. Well, I fed the hummingbirds first. And got water. And went to the farmer's market. And wrote an advertorial. But I got that tiny portion of my tiny room detailed to my satisfaction. And now it's filled with lumber and paint cans as we move around the room.

After. That's Randy and Virginia providing local color. (Did they plan these outfits to coordinate  with my new color scheme?) They were my Thomasville saviors when the flood hit town, salvaging as many of my things as possible before the gutting and powerwashing of the poor, cooked Goose.

ping flies home

When you have become used to living alone, as many of the women my age have (perforce), it can be hard to breathe in with another person's rhythms. Sleep schedules, meal schedules, bathroom schedules—all require adjustment, especially when you are sharing a room or the front seat of a moving vehicle.
   We all have our oddities, we just don't come face-to-face with them living solo. For instance, I am not security conscious. I don't need a gun or a dog to hold off intruders: the door is open. I leave the keys in the truck in Missouri and Block Island. I don't lock my doors anywhere, except sometimes at night, and generally leave my houses open even when I'm not home. Ping, however, didn't even like to be on one floor of the Goose if I was on the other. She locked doors always, including when she was inside the truck, and I was filling the gas tank. I did not tell her that Memphis has one of the highest murder rates in the country.
    

    "If I am live with you, my English will be better," said Ping. She is embarrassed by her English when speaking to anyone but me, but it's way ahead of my almost nonfunctional Chinese. Ping used to be more fluent in English, but she has been speaking nothing but Chinese in recent years—to her sons, to her babysitting charges, who typically have one Chinese parent, to her multitude of friends. Our interactions, therefore, were in fractured Chinglish and not particularly deep. "Okay, hao," was our most-used phrase.
    She took surreptitious pictures of fat people—she found U.S. obesity incredible. The only really American pursuit she is obsessed with is basketball—and she missed the final because of our trip. Though barbecue may have a place in her heart as well. And, of course, Elvis.

    How can you chart a life from one moment in time, say 50 years ago? As 20-year-olds, we had no idea what the future held. Obviously. I mean, Milli Vanilli was once at  the top of the charts. But the years have unfolded, and more shall be revealed.
   Misty eyes at the airport, and away she flew.

Postscript.

   We talked on the phone when she was home.  "We both live together very happy, right?" she said. "I am so enjoy this trip."
   She is already planning her next junket to China for a wedding. Then she would like to see Iceland. And maybe we will go to Taiwan together before too long. The house we lived in there has long since turned into an apartment tower, and the sewers are now underground.
  But Ping has vowed never to visit the American countryside again. She wouyld prefer to visit me in New York.

   

the career woman

 "A career woman has to look like a lady, act like a man and work like a dog." A little retro, but still pretty true. Holly, who owns/runs the local (as in 13 miles away) hardware store is a case in point. She knows as much about carpentry, plumbing, electricals, etc. as any—well, as much as the owner of the Block Island hardware store, who is also female.
   And, yes, those are bullets, for those who can't make it to Walmart.

two roads converge

 Joey and Peyton. Which of them, do you think, giddy with new love, spraypainted their names conjoined? Is the heart-in-a-tree-carver or graffiti artist typically the boy or the girl? Do people in cities even do this anymore? Are those roads converging or diverging? Well, good luck, kidz.
   This is a place locally known as the Y. It is about a mile uphill from the Goose, and I am not the only one who parks up there to get cell reception.
   However, as of today, I have a working land line: 417-764-3086
   If I'm not covered with paint, I will answer.