Policeman on our Porch

Joyce, our next door neighbor, called us after she got home from work. Did we know anything about a small silver car parked in her driveway? We didn’t. We can’t see the front of her house from ours because of big evergreen trees. She and John came to the conclusion she should call the police. She had already checked through her house and found no evidence that anyone had tried to enter. Joyce called again after looking through the windows of the car and seeing a sweater and pocketbook. The longer you live with a mystery, the more it gnaws at you. Joyce was concerned that perhaps a woman had been abducted. Who was the owner of the purse? Who might have taken her? Where were they now? John offered to stay with her until the police came, and she eagerly accepted.

John locked our doors and turned on the porch lights as he walked next door. A bit later he called and said Joyce would feel more comfortable staying with us. Would I take his towels out of the bathroom? I did more than that. I cleaned the toilet and vanity. I also flicked the duster around the guest bedroom. I was very thankful I had changed the sheets on the bed that very morning.

I wasn’t expecting a policeman on the porch, but he began his search with me. I answered that I didn’t know anything about the strange car and explained that my husband was with Joyce. He told me the car was registered to someone in Clyde and that he suspected the driver was a high school student because of a parking sticker on it. He asked about the other neighbors and said he would check Amy’s house.

“Let me call her first,” I said. “She is alone and might be shocked to see you on her doorstep.”

I quickly outlined the problem for Amy and offered my phone to the policeman to talk to her himself. After her house was ruled out as harboring a fugitive, the man asked about the other neighbors. I lost sight of him as he headed across the street. That may have been when he noticed a car coming down the street.

A few minutes later Amy called, wondering what was happening. She was watching from her window and saw flashlights bobbing. It was John coming back, so we put the speakerphone on to hear the report together.

“It was Jean’s granddaughter and her friend,” John said.

Jean owns the house across from Joyce. We knew one daughter lived with her, but we didn’t realize there was a teen living there, as well.

John continued, “The girls went shopping at Walmart. The friend didn’t want to pull into Jean’s steep drive, so she parked in Joyce’s, and the granddaughter did the driving.”

Things were back to normal, so Joyce didn’t come to our house. I was a bit disappointed that we wouldn’t have a fun house party, but solving the mystery was better. Was there anything gained by this flap in our serene neighborhood? Yes, indeed! We had a freshly cleaned bedroom and bath, all ready for company!

Logan Hits a Tree

We volunteered to keep Logan again while his parents went to the airport. To diffuse some of that high powered energy, John met him at the door and immediately went sledding with him. The toy camera and I followed. The run was pretty fast, and the camera caught the action. Listening carefully, you might hear Logan laugh just after he hit the tree and rolled off the sled. If only we had captured a few more seconds, you could have seen the boy run up the hill still laughing.

As if that were not enough exercise, Logan and John still had energy to horse around inside. I liked the demo of the tandem exercise machine. Which person do you think used the most calories?

Official Mehrling Measurement

The full moon was brilliant at 4 am, casting distinct shadows on the thick layer of snow left by the big storm. I did not have the photographic skills to capture it, so just imagine it with me. It was stunning.

I took a photo at a more reasonable hour when the sun obeyed its appointed call to rise. The air was crisp, as you’d expect at 5F.

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I dared to step outside when the temperature had risen to 16F. The green ruler pronounced our snow to be 8 inches deep. For all I know, it may have settled to that depth, but that is all we can prove. It is enough. We are satisfied.

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Logan’s Heroes

A dear friend labeled one of our Logan stories with a takeoff on the old TV show Hogan’s Heroes. I am definitely not in the hero class, but John is. Any man in his mid-70s who will stay outside in 21 degrees F for an hour while a 5-year-old sleds has earned his badge, cape, wings, or power helmet. Hip, hip, hooray!

We had it easy compared to Shawn and Bob. All we did was play with Logan while they went to the airport. Shawn’s flight was canceled because of snow yesterday, but today they trekked out to the airport. At the time Shawn got on the plane, there had been no flight in or out of the airport for one or two days. Bob stayed for quite a while before driving home. He and John finished cleaning Amy’s drive and front steps. That’s when the call came, that the flight was not leaving after all. The plane had not been de-iced, and the fuel truck was stuck. I don’t know how long the passengers were confined to their seats, but they were finally returned to the terminal.

John went outside with Logan as Bob headed for the airport again. The boy used both of our sleds — a butt board and a plastic sled. I don’t know which was more successful, but at the end Logan was able to go from the top of his drive well down toward the creek. John was getting chilled and knew he had to go inside. He gave Logan the word, this is the last run. The boy suggested he would stay out by himself, which was not an option. The final run was prolonged, but Logan dragged the sled up the hill. As old man and little boy headed across the street, Logan said, “Thank you for taking me sledding.”

They came in cold and wet. John persuaded him to take off his pants and put them in the dryer. He didn’t want to be in our house wearing only underwear and a shirt, but heaccepted one of John’s tee shirts. I asked if I could take his picture, because he looked so cute in that outsize shirt. He declined, and I put the toy camera back in my pocket.

There is a moral to this tale. Keep a few of your children’s or grandchildren’s toys for your old age. You never know when you’ll need to entertain a child with them.

Storm Dressed in White

The snow raced the forecaster’s prediction and won. We thought we’d wake to rain and found about three inches of snow standing at attention on the railings. It was fun watching the mountains come and go. I reveled in watching the heavier snow blot out the view and sculpt toppings for pots. It added a white mask and high hat for the bird feeder. The snow designed a fancy scalloped edge for the railing and sometimes blew from the roof, pretending to be a blizzard. To me it was a gorgeous day.

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Eager Logan

John hadn’t been in the house more than a couple of minutes when the doorbell rang. After he was invited in, Logan burst into the hall, full of energy. He told us he stood by the window for 20 minutes waiting for John to come home. It seems Bob told him he couldn’t come over until both of us were home, so the boy watched eagerly for the car to return.

If you can see the video, you can tell that John does not fit the character of Mr. Wilson in the comic strip Dennis the Menace. I am Mrs. Wilson to Logan’s Dennis, but John is never grumpy with a visiting child.

Thanking an Angel

Our shortened walk was a bit rough, only because we discovered black ice underfoot. Walking off the road where there was gravel seemed safest. It was also slowest. It took us about 45 minutes to walk what normally would take half an hour. I was relieved to get back to the house without having slipped. Although our temperatures were to rise above freezing, I was not tempted to ride the exercise bike with its built in cooling fan.

Neighbor Amy dropped in, asking if we had plenty of propane. I thought we did, but she offered to look at the gauge on our tank. She had just discovered that her tank was almost completely empty and had already gotten the promise of a delivery today. I thought we had a delivery recently, but my memory of time is quite faulty. Her verdict: either our tank was completely full or completely empty. The needle was in no man’s land. As she left, I went to find John who immediately called the gas company. He thought we hadn’t had a delivery since November. They promised to check our tank after filling Amy’s. I thought that was good insurance. It turned out to be a rescue.

I texted thanks to Amy and said it was so thoughtful of her to check on us. Back came a reply that had us falling off our chairs. She is only a few years younger than I am, and she wrote, “Well, I care about you two. AND you are always supposed to check on the elderly.” She followed that with lots of grinning happy faces.

John took a long, hot shower before going for an appointment. He was just about to leave the house when I turned on the hot water tap before showering. Only cold water came out. I’m the one who fools with the remote for the water heater, and I immediately saw an error code flashing red numbers. I think we must have run out of propane only minutes after Amy discovered we might be low.

When I saw the truck pull into Amy’s drive, I walked over to make sure the office had contacted the driver. I don’t take anything for granted after seeing our next door neighbor in New York plowed out after a blizzard, and the plow sped away without coming near our house. The man reassured me he would be right over. I met him at the tank. One peek at the gauge told him we needed a refill. As he hooked up the hose from the truck, I told him that he and Amy were angels for rescuing us. He grinned and replied, “You don’t know me very well.”

As he disengaged the hose, the man said, “You took more gas than your neighbor!”

I think we owe Amy, big time. What do you think?

Truth in Comics

The forecast for snow was serious enough that our schools were closed. As so often happens, not much materialized. We had an errand to run in town, so we stopped by the library. I found two books; John picked out two videos, and I chose five books to read to neighbor Logan. That’s something I’d not done before. Logan always asks to see Curious George on our TV, but he isn’t here often when that show is on. There were three George books and two others chosen randomly.

Fast forward to a time after lunch when I read the comics. Dennis the Menace was sharing a chair with Mrs. Wilson, and she was reading him a book! I’ve likened our favorite neighborhood boy and myself to Dennis and Mrs. Wilson. The comic strip came to life when Logan knocked on our door. The cute little boy sat beside a rather frumpy woman with colorless hair who wore glasses, and they read a book. There was one big difference. I’m not sure what D the M did, but Logan began to read the first sentence. He continued reading three pages! Yes, I supplied a few of the longer words, but he did marvelously well. He is only five years old!

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The three dimensional map of our area was on the floor, waiting for John to hang it in his office. Logan was drawn to it like a magnet. John quickly picked it up before the boy might step on it, and the two began to explore it. John pointed out Asheville, Waynesville, and the area where we live. Logan delighted in running his hands over the mountains and tracing the Pigeon River through the gorge. I took one quick photo and was surprised at what I saw when it was expanded on the monitor. John looked quite a bit like his dad from that angle.

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Walking Rescue and Snow Patrol

We were happily walking in light snow when I realized something was hurting my ankle. Surely it wasn’t my sneaker. Leaning against a truck near the café, I saw blood on the shoe and the sock. We stuffed a tissue there and walked on to the creek. John insisted on walking home and driving back to get me. What a beautiful time to enjoy the stream, knowing I wouldn’t have to huff and puff up the steep hill!

John estimated it would take him 20 to 30 minutes to get back to me. There was plenty of time to watch the lazy snowflakes drift down and examine the creek. Splashing ripples were building lacy edges on stones and twigs. It was still well below freezing, although not as cold has it had been. A wave would splash under the ice, slowly building it up along the edge. One of the boulders in the water appeared to be wearing a cape of lace with diamonds on the edge. It’s a shame the lighting was such that it didn’t show in a photograph.

012016 Ice decorations for J Creek.JPG — Jonathan Creek edged with ice

Neighbor Joyce called while I was standing at the creek. She asked a favor, that I’d let her know if the roads were getting bad. It was snowing heavily where she worked. This would be fun, being on snow patrol! An hour later I texted her, saying we had blue skies. In the early afternoon, that changed and snow began to come down in earnest. I let her know it was sticking on our deck, although the road was clear. Fifteen minutes later I said the forecast had the temperature in Waynesville dropping to freezing at 4:00. I wrote, “The New Yorker (John) would say it’s nothing. The Tennessean (me) says cut and run when it’s feasible.”

Joyce replied, “I am on my way home now.”

The Sound of Grief

We were well into the day when I realized John had been playing CDs for hours. He often plays music, but seldom does he keep it on all day. I hadn’t paid attention to the selections. I asked, “What is that piece? It is very dark.”

“It’s a requiem mass,” he replied.

On a hunch, I asked, “Is it for Brad?”

“Yes.”

I understood then. It was the day of Brad’s wake when John was thinking particularly of our dear friend, Brad’s grandmother. John told me a long time ago that when he was young his mother used music with him as a way of expressing emotions. If he came home upset about something, they often went to the piano or phonograph where she played something appropriate that brought peace and healing.

The mass that was so dark was by Cherubini, a contemporary of Beethoven. John showed me the stack of disks, seven in all, that he had been playing. That didn’t include the Brahms Requiem that was in my collection. The most beautiful to me was the one by Victoria, a 16^th century composer that is a favorite of both of us. As the music played, I feasted my eyes on the mountains, with mist after rain rising like prayer.

To sum up the day, our house was filled with the sound of grief. It was by turns heartrendingly sad, somber, dark, angry, accepting, beautiful, peaceful, uplifting, redeeming, ethereal, and totally restful. May you rest in the Lord’s peace, Brad.

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