Since 2020 is turning out to be such a, shall we say, interesting year, I got to wondering what Nostradamus had to say about it. Apparently he was in the universe’s ear long before events began to unfold noting 2020 as the end the beginning of a lot of major happenings in the world. According to those who have interpreted his writings, a third world war is a possibility during this 365 days. Whew. Really? That’s about the only thing we’ve left out. Climate change was mentioned, including the oceans rising. Some will say climate change falls under the same category as Big Foot, but the truth is the ice caps are in fact melting and we here in California are now enjoying twice as many fire danger days as we have in previous years. The surface temperature of the ocean continues to rise, tropical storms are on the march, snow cover is reduced, and snow is melting earlier than before. Glacier Park has only 25 glaciers remaining from what was originally 150. One can only stick one’s head in the ground for so long without coming up for air, and with the rate we humans are shrinking the rain forests air may not be an option by the time we decide to pull our heads out and take a look around.
My oldest granddaughter, Breanna, is a vegan. Bre eats nothing, as she puts it, “that has parents”. Though I am a meat eater of long standing I highly respect her decision to leave as light a footprint on our world as possible. Unfortunately, her grandmother’s closet addiction to cheeseburgers keeps me from standing shoulder to shoulder with her in this cause.
With the sky outside tinged an unsettling shade of pink it is difficult to find normal ground. This is not my first pink summer here in sunny California. When I lived in Oroville some years back we endured months of smoky skies and pink tinged sunsets.
This morning the weather anchor announced there were two hurricanes moving into the Gulf Coast. This, so she said, was a phenomena she had never experienced in her career before. Wish some of that rain would move to the west and douse our burning behinds, but guess Mother Nature has her own agenda.
Makes me yearn for a road trip. In my early twenties my first husband and I took a trip across the U.S. and Canada lasting just under a year. My two children were two and three at the time, and though unaware of the adventure they were having, they loved being along for the ride. The trip began in Sunnyvale, California and culminated in Lynn, Massachusetts. During that trip we visited a good portion of the states sandwiched in between the west and east coast as well as detouring up through several of the Canadian provinces when the opportunity to do so arose. Our goal? I don’t think we had a goal. Most probably we would have kept on going when we arrived in Lynn but for the fact we had depleted our funds to a rather alarming point, and the weather was beginning to lean towards fall and it was time to come in from the cold and lay down some deeper roots for our children.
Our first home, if you will, in Massachusetts was a walk-up apartment on the third floor of an old and someone dilapidated apartment building known simply by locals as The Yale. Before we has set out we sold or gave away our household goods and belongings. Anything extra went into a small storage unit which we never returned to. We had brought no furniture to speak of other than a card table and a couple of folding chairs. To say we were traveling light would have been an understatement. Four sleeping bags provided us with some cushion from the linoleum floor in the apartment, but not much. Even as young as we were, stiff bones were often the status quo each morning when first we opened our eyes.
There was a second hand store down the block where we decided to do our first shopping. Faded jeans, shorts and tennies were our choice of dress on the road but the prospect of getting jobs loomed on the horizon and we had to move up a couple of notches from there the style book in order to begin interviewing. Back then women were expected to wear dresses, hose and heels to work. Casual Friday hadn’t been implemented in businesses as yet, and “pants suits” were just beginning to show up on design books for the upcoming season. Hated pantsuits. Polyester nightmares. A blazer with matching pants that once worn for more than fifteen minutes sagged in the rear and at the knees, and generally were geared to be as unflattering to your figure as possible. Men actually wore them too. I remember my mother bringing home a “salmon” colored pantsuit for my step-father. This was paired with a pair of white patent leather shoes and matching belt topped by a multi-colored silk shirt with three buttons flared open to reveal chest hair and a medallion. The man was a middle school principal but this outfit virtually screamed “pimp”.
At any rate we carefully chose some “work clothes” from the gently used section to wear as we began our job search. There wasn’t much money to carry us until one or the other brought home a paycheck, so we lived quite frugally that month. As the days passed, the floor seemed to be actually getting harder as we lay down to sleep each night. One weekend after my husband had gotten an invitation to begin work for a firm in Boston in a week, we decided to take a day trip to New Hampshire and take in some of the glorious fall scenery only New England has to offer. Our car was an old yellow Ford station wagon. Younger readers are shaking their heads, “station wagon”, Que es? The back seat flattened out (much like an SUV) so there was room to store something large or simply stretch out. Driving along rural highways the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. Never have I seen such vibrant colors in the leaves. Feeling a slight crick in my lower back I commented to my husband I surely wish we could afford a mattress. He promised once we got settled somewhere, new beds for all would be at the top of our list. Not ten minutes later, a large flat bed truck pulled onto the highway in front of us. The bed of the truck was stacked high with mattresses each covered with heavy plastic. The top layer wobbled precariously just above the last slat of wood holding them in place. Noting what a funny coincidence it was to have a mattress truck in front of us when I’d just wished for one, the very top mattress got a good gust of wind under it and lifted up and over the top slat landing in the ditch at the side of the road. Hello? We honked the horn but the driver kept on driving down the road and off into the distance. I suggested perhaps we could catch up to them but instead we pulled over to the side and sat quietly. Now I knew what the thought process was going on under that gorgeous head of curly hair my husband had been gifted with. Had I not after all wished for this mattress? Was it right to turn down such a gift? HOLD ON. This was not a gift it was a mattress that belonged to someone else sitting in a ditch at the side of the road. Hmmmm. Moral dilemma. So, we decided to go have lunch on down the road and if on the way back should the mattress still lay in the ditch abandoned we would offer it a home. It would be more like a rescue mission. Done and done. Three hours later and much moral argument come and gone, we once again pulled over to the side of the road. The mattress, little the worse for wear, still lay in the spot it had landed with one tear in the side and a flapping piece of plastic to mark the spot. Convinced this was a godsend (by ourselves naturally) we hopped out of the car and began to load the ill gotten gains in through the tailgate. Out of nowhere another car rose up over the hill and pulled up directly behind us. Ach. My mind is yelling, “I told you. The jig is up. You’re going to the big house.” A man stepped out of the drivers side and walked up to where we are standing. I am literally doing everything but giving myself up for the gum I stole in third grade from the corner store. The man introduced himself and offered to help my husband with the mattress. Appeared he too was from California and had noticed our plates. My bladder was willing itself to hold on. I knew on that day I would never be Bonnie to anyone’s Clyde. The mattress, however, did turn out to be a blessing. My little ones were up off the floor and in the next few months we moved into a house on the lake and new beds were bought for all. We kept that mattress for years after that. It was sort of our good luck charm.
Life often steps up to the plate when you’ve just delivered strike two. I always liked that story even if it did involve a little light fingered larceny.
With everything going on outside it made me smile to remember that crisp fall day and the mattress from the gods. My husband used to call this talent for thinking about something and having it materialize “wishcraft”. That being said, I am wishing for clear blue skies and fresh air. Sending it out.
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