Wallenda
Though I visited the circus as a child and saw all sorts of acrobatic stunts, the first time I remember hearing the name Wallenda was in 1972. I was with a group of college friends, roaming the North Carolina mountains. Somehow we descended from Highlands, North Carolina, and ended up at Tallulah Gorge, an enormous chasm carved into the earth. The Great Wallenda, a well-known circus performer, had done a high wire walk there two years earlier, but the cable remained, stretched from one tower across the gorge to the other tower. A chain-link fence and strongly-worded sign warned people away. I had an idea of the deepness of the gorge from seeing the movie Deliverance and had absolutely no interest in living that dangerously, but I was amazed and mesmerized by...
Guns
As a child, when given the choice, I would always play cops and robbers rather than with baby dolls. I liked the good guy/bad guy scenario—as long as the good guy prevailed, that is. And in those early games, the good guy always won, just as he did in my favorite television show, The Wild, Wild West. The triumph of law and order struck a chord with me. I was in college when I finally touched a real gun. I was dating another student, Doug, who was from a small mountain community where guns were a part of life. We went out in the woods one winter to find mistletoe which, I was surprised to learn, had to be shot down from trees. Doug fired his .22 rifle a couple times and got a few sprigs, but when I took aim and fired, a huge clump came tumbling down....
Strangler
He was demented like my father but unlike my father, always wore a pair of black leather gloves. It was too warm indoors for his hands to be cold, yet he seemed to be gloved twenty-four hours a day. I called him the Beacon Pointe Strangler. Everyone at Beacon Pointe was odd because they all had dementia or Alzheimer’s. But this man was the only one who made me nervous. He kept his arms stiff and straight at his sides, gloved fingers stretched wide apart. Oh…and he always wore a lanyard looped around his neck. Nothing attached to it. Just a lanyard. He rarely talked, but typically stood and stared at people. One morning, I was visiting with my dad while he ate breakfast. I sensed someone close behind me and turned to find the Strangler, mere inches...
Insomnia
I’m so tired I can’t hold my eyes open, but I lie in bed awake. Hour after hour. Bubby is purring next to me, under the blanket. I can’t relax completely because I know that if I move, he’ll scratch me. George is snoring on the other side of the bed and I’m jealous. Any time, anywhere, he’s out like a light. So unfair. I shift my body ever so carefully. Phew. Did it without a scratch. In the morning I have to remember to take Prince to Paw Pals to board for the night so he won’t bark his head off while George and I go out for the evening. Crazy dog. I wonder what news Jen wants to break to us this weekend. God, please help her to feel better. Pregnancy is hard. Why won’t she tell me her news now? Are they...
Fears
Things I fear: -That if I am anywhere near a bursting balloon, a piece of rubber will fly into my face and put my eye out. -That the finial of a nearby umbrella will put my eye out. -That my hand will be in the garbage disposal when it is turned on. -That I will pull a fire alarm I happen to be passing, even with no fire. -That the WSM radio tower in Brentwood will fall over and crush my car as I drive by on I-65. My fears seem silly until you consider that I was raised to be afraid. My parents wouldn’t even allow me to go ice-skating with friends when I was a senior in high school—a senior–out of fear that I would fall and break my arm. Can’t play piano with a broken arm, you know. When I was in kindergarten, I colored and cut out a life-size...
Sweepstakes
My dad was big into sweepstakes, taking advantage of every offer that came in the mail. I’ve entered a few in my life…even purchased a few lottery tickets…but never to the extent he did. It became an obsession for him after my mother died, which explains how he was scammed by the man who called to tell him he had won the Canadian lottery. Dad wired a boat-load of money to Canada, supposedly to insure the delivery of a million dollar check, and never saw a dime in return. But the sweepstakes were not much better. Daddy believed that by making a purchase he would increase his odds of winning, so purchase, he did. He bought book after book after book that he didn’t read or need. Even purchased multiple copies of some books. He had stacks of...
Dead
The Grateful Dead have been around forever, it seems. I’ve heard their name since the sixties, but can’t say I was ever a fan. I was more into beach music and Motown. Loved the Beatles, Four Seasons, Supremes and Carpenters. From the albums I noted in George’s apartment back in the eighties when we started dating, his tastes were quite different: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Riders of the Purple Sage, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Bob Dylan and yes, the Grateful Dead. This music, what I knew of it, seemed rough and earthy to me, conjuring images of drugs, alcohol and endless sex. Far removed from the safe music I favored. I will confess that I went to a Jimi Hendrix concert when I was in ninth grade, at the insistence of a...
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