Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Black and White

Dan recently posted some awesome pics of outbuildings and vehicles while he was trespassing with his camera! I have some similar pics of cool places down back alleys and stuff, but finally found an old file that I had saved from a few years ago...I'd started to blog about this before but became too choked up. Although these photos aren't high quality, I think you'll get a feel for utter, desolate loneliness.


For many years, when I used to take kids to a creek to play in the next county, a nice old fellow would walk down the road and talk with us. He was very pleasant, had wonderful stories and really seemed thrilled that we were down there playing out in the middle of nowhere. He thought I reminded him of his mother, because when he was a young boy, she would take him hunting and fishing too, and not many women did that. (He never mentioned a father.) He showed us remains of an old homestead and rock well near the creek, warned us of a cougar, told adventures of the Navy and how he almost died of a disease and the nurse that saved him. He was very fond of the nursing and teaching profession and could talk about any subject, as all he did was read books on any topic all day long...

As he lived at the end of a dead end, we never ventured up further than the creek, but once I noticed a terribly scary spot on his leg (he showed me a spider bite) and I urged him to go to the doctor or I would take him if he needed a ride. He did have a truck with an 'indian bead' necklace inside and explained how he'd made it as a child--and he liked to 'garage sale' on Saturdays-- he did get to the doctor just in time. One summer we didn't wade much--kids were getting too old to hang out with mom, and I heard in the Fall he went to the VA Hospital with prostate cancer...
I went to his funeral when he had passed away in late February or March?; I felt like I should go because who else would? A few neighbors did go--in this remote area, neighbors lived a few miles away. The next day, a man called and told us we were welcome to go to this fellow's house and take anything we wanted, since we had treated him kindly. I went out to dig up some bulbs, remembering that his mother supposedly raised irises in a lovely garden many years ago.

What beheld me was something I will never forget. I think I walked around in a daze for an hour, gathered myself together, then drove home and got my son. We returned and I quietly told him to open the front door and will never forget the look on his face. I can't even describe it. He walked away immediately and browsed around the outbuildings and woods, visibly shaken. I explored, with tears streaming down my cheeks, shaking my head the entire time. 'This could not happen'. I cried the rest of the night and for several days after that...

When Brigg came back, all I could sob was, “Where did he sleep? Where did he sleep?” It was damp, my fingers frozen, starting to sprinkle, so we left but returned the next day, probably thinking we'd both had the same nightmare or just to make sure what we saw wasn't a mirage...

Opening the front door; there was about 10" of space to step inside.

Kitchen to the right; crawl over about 2' deep items to get there...

Other side of kitchen; somewhere there is a sink, oven, fridge.

Back Room; all of these suitcases and cases contained items.

Bathroom; about waist high, non-working toilet buried, as was sink. Clean shirts hung above.

Inside the front door; looking left to narrow hallway. No bare floor.

There were at least 13 outbuildings containing everything imaginable.

Most buildings were impossible to enter, unless you were a good climber. Very treacherous footing.

Also some converted, rotten railroad cars used for storage.

3 old washers; I think there were 10 more, plus countless old TVs.

One of the many antique vehicles abandoned and packed full of items. More on this later... We finally deduced that the ONLY ONLY place this man could have slept was on the seat of his working truck. It was the only space that remained uncluttered and always had been; whenever we'd see him in it--he always showed us his indian bead necklace.

The Indian Bead necklace was missing from that truck. It was really the only thing I wanted...

Monday, July 28, 2008

UnsubstanTial Verbage or Substandard Verbage

I stuck a couple bobbie pins in my hair while cutting up gallons of peaches, trying to keep the sweat out of my eyes, when I caught a glimpse reflecting off the window—amusing—I’d look like Travolta in Battlefield Earth, if it grew a little longer!

(Have you ever looked at their feet?)

This started me daytrippin about movies and how Dan had found the cool truck from the movie Overboard (did you watch the video?), and how many older movies I am fond of—and some of them are not any good…it might just be a small scene, or a certain movement, or catchy tune. I started putting together a wee list of items that have caught my fancy and whether I truly liked the movie or not, well, I probably did, just based on a few artistic or bizarre moments…

Face Off: the crisp way Cage’s coat snaps at precisely the right moment/ the way the knife unfolds right before it stabs into flesh/ Travolta’s face as he says ‘wee—what a predicament’.

Kalifornia: Juliette Lewis’ (Adele) tender display with the cactus/ abandoned buildings

Con Air: about anything that comes out of Garland Greene’s mouth!/Cyrus’ displays of intelligence

Desperado: the music w/ the entire ‘walking down the street’ scene right after Banderas kills all those people in the bar and then sees Selma/ the way he ‘kachunks’ his arms and guns come out his sleeves/reaches back behind his head and pulls out a gun.

The Usual Suspects: when the coffee cup lands on the floor exposing the word Kobayashi…and Verbal.

Pulp Fiction: dance scene in 50’s restaurant/ aaahh!---worst scene—the shot to Uma’s heart!

Moulin Rouge: the can-can dance with Nirvana/ elephant scene/costumes

The Fugitive: Harrison Ford’s quiet desperation and the look in Tommy Lee Jone’s eyes—when he begins to realize Ford's innocent.

The Fifth Element: the use of the color orange and its endearing stupidness

The Cell: the way the cape peels/floats around the walls, the despicable beauty, the live Odd Nerdrum painting

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome: the first part of the movie while Gibson has long hair

Edward Scissorhands: Depp’s lips

Legends of the Fall: Tristan’s hair/ the first scene of the almost kiss…too sad to go on …

Batman: lips when he’s Keaton and Kilmer

Event Horizon: the creepy Stardrive/flashes of horror/Baby Bear/ the Latin phrases (was one of the movies that creeped out the kids and they’d seen much worse…)

Predator 2: fixing his stomach in the bathroom with freaky contraptions/ last scene when all the predators pick up the body

What Dreams May Come: the way scenes remind me of Hieronymus Bosch paintings

Tombstone: the enchanted moment when Josephine first sees Wyatt and says, ‘I want one’/when Wyatt realizes who the devil is/Johnny Ringo and Doc Holiday’s interplay with the cup and gun/ the way Curly Bill says, ‘Prettiest man I ever saw’.

The Matrix: follow the white rabbit (music Dragula)/ the entire ‘cartwheel with a machine gun scene’/+ more

13 Ghosts: the Jackal

Waterworld: the awesomest clothes/ Exxon being ‘rowed’/ the crayon scene; little girl’s dirty look

Interview With a Vampire: ferocious intensity when Cruise bites Pitt and the way his eyes change/Claudia at the piano scene/the little twisted smile on Stephen Rhea's face

Chicago: the jilted husband’s song/jail dance scene

Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow’s hair./And the rest of him/cool costumes

Indiana Jones: when the music pulses and the Nazi’s faces melt off

Oh, I could go on forever…just too many movies… and it looks as though I grow shallower and shallower...

So…

Brigham is bringing home a new friend to live with us. I think his name is Fritz. I guess I will see him at 8:30 tonight since Brigg had a double shift today……
UGG. IT IS A TARANTULA.

Friday, July 25, 2008

A Crushing Blow


Potato chips are a snack I can do without—I've never been a big chip fan of any sort; though once in a blue moon I might try a corn chip in some sort of Mexican dip, but I might not do that for years at a time.

My sister-in-law had some type of pita chips which I tried and rather liked. And I have tried some sea-salt bagel chips which were ok too.

But I can only eat these items in a particular way—first, open the bag and scan it carefully for any broken chips. Eat these imperfections immediately. The pieces don't have any calories anyway!

Later in the evening, when boredom arises and nothing too fulfilling is on TV, its time to try more chips: open the bag, scan again for broken or dark pieces and eat. Very slowly, very carefully (utmost concentration is required), rotate the bag on it's side, again pulling out only the broken pieces. Give the bag a light shake and start the process again, ignoring your son's dark eyebrows and the irritated glare.

"SHHH!"

"I'm being as quiet as I can! I only want a few! It's a stupid show anyway! I only like the broken ones!" I stage whisper.

"SHHH!"

This scenario proceeds for 10 more minutes….careful rotation, rustle rustle, careful rotation, rustle rustle…

"SHHH!"

rustle rustle, careful rotation, rustle rustle…

Then WHAM! A fist comes down out of nowhere and smashes the bag deep into the couch cushion!

"There. Now you don't have to search."


Sunday, July 13, 2008

Messiah Man

I glanced out the kitchen window this morning while dipping more peaches in boiling water...and saw apricots laying in the grass (sigh, another pie)...I am not baking more—did that last night again. Apricots appear only every 4 or 5 years—last time gave away 42 pies--police department... senior center...relatives...tileman, farmer guy, custodial girl, cropman... and I thought of Messiah Man again...but NO, I'd better not start anything after what happened last summer.

Imagine someone walking right into your house late at night, sitting down like its an old habit, making themselves right at home. It's an oddity; this person has NEVER came calling before... You say that you don't really want company; you're expecting a phone call etc. (In other words, a polite yet obvious hint that this unexpected, 1st time 'visit' is a weird inconvenience/uncomfortably unnerving.) The visitor doesn't listen so you repeat yourself again to no avail. Your third attempt no longer shows a smile and is quite firm, which causes the visitor to come toward you and all of a sudden drop to their knees in front of you, placing their hands upon your thighs.

As your stomach does a flipflop and you scream “STOP! I DON'T LIKE ANYONE TOUCHING ME!” (What the hell?!), the visitor stands up awkwardly, then kneels again, grasping your thighs...Again, same scream as before only a lot louder and he goes out the door! Shaken, I wondered what he was thinking or expecting. Was I about to be kissed? blessed? proposed to? other?

Years and years ago I'd always taken a southern path when out for a walk, which heads a few blocks from my house by the river. It looks like 'country' around the corner; a gravel road with a gigantic, meticulous garden abundant with produce of all types. If the gardener was out, (I'll call him Jay) a nod or polite hello was in order, or even a phrase “Your tomatoes look fabulous.” Jay (Messiah Man) might shyly nod or even possibly mumble something about 'nitrogen fertilizer composition', but he rarely made eye contact and once in a great while, might offer a pepper or squash. If this happened, I'd run down an obligatory plate of cookies (or pie) the next day to return the favor, which I'd hand through the door to his mother.... So, maybe we'd speak 4 times a year at the most....

One summer evening 'bout 5 years ago, daydreaming as usual, rapidly walking along, when (too late!) I realized that I'd rounded the gravel corner smack into a yard party. Oops! If I tried to turn 'round I'd be interpreted as some stuck-up broad....keep going...I'd already been noticed...don't be scared...take a deep breath...

A party meant that Jay's brother was out-- not only outside/outdoors, but 'out' as in 'out of prison' again. We're talking a couple felons sitting here folks, ex-cons, not just your typical everyday 'just got outta the county jail' guys... but more hard-core, 'nearly killed (or did) someone more than once' type of guys... and Jay (the little brother yet 2 years older than me) had just emanated by the sidewalk, fiercely grasping my wrist and began yanking me across the yard.

At first I was so shocked by this boldness coming from such a painfully shy man, I scarcely noticed that he was saying my name (how'd he know THAT?) excitedly, loudly, proudly wanting to show me something. “Brenda! Brenda! Look—come here!” He pulled me to the taller than life-size crucified carved wooden Jesus he'd chainsawed near the center of the yard and I realized he'd been drinking—aaahh that explains this radical personality change (they were all around a fire with whiskey)--and he'd nearly pulled my arm out of the socket when he reached down into a 5 gallon bucket of beige wetness set under Christ (imagine that the sky dims here and twilight glooms ominously) and pulled out what I thought was a dripping, skinned baby.

I nearly screamed; choked it back as I realized it wasn't actually a human...It was a smooth, inside-out bobcat pelt he'd gotten on his farm. By that time I was ½ giddy with fright and had to swallow the fear, make small talk, and try to fit into this weird situation. I admired the bobcat, smiled, complimented the flowers too, since he seemed so pleased, all the while glancing around wondering what the hell to do...the bonfire had been stocked with part of a railroad tie, so along with the whiskey and other items, the choking, heavy smell was simultaneously murdering more of their brain cells. Jay's middle brother now had my other wrist and was clamoring for attention (I felt like a kindergarten teacher; me me me!)—he'd been making salsa all day and canning tomatoes...so I attentively questioned him about the recipes (these guys really are extremely bright and very interesting under other circumstances—what other circumstances? you are asking...um, I don't know...) noticing that the wild-eyed man known as the Charles Manson look-a-like was NOT present, but a crazed man similar TO Charles Manson WAS. Jay's mom, Myrt, (imagine Mama Fratelli, female crimeboss in The Goonies movie) was even uncharacteristically outdoors partaking in animated discussion along with another unsavory being usually labeled as someone NOT to meet in a dark alley....

I finally managed to break away politely, hightail it home (to HELL with the rest of my walk) and tell Brigham of this bizarre experience.... He remembered Jay's brother the last time he was released from prison when he was a little boy, the guy zipping across the yard and grabbing his front bike wheel, a scared bike-seat hostage bewildered by some type of loud, inane ranting while I tried to rescue him, until Myrt called off the man like one calls off a mean dog.

Just then 'nuther cop friend drove by in the squad car and stopped to chat. He was on his way down to the river—neighbors had called in a strange smell and smoke. “It's creosote!” I tell him what had just transpired and that the parolees were just sitting around the campfire drinking. All kinds of odd things happen with this group: crazed man, an ultra-experienced felon (hiv positive + a spitter and a biter) had beaten one of his girlfriends so badly that she left a blood trail 5 blocks long on her crawl to the police station; there's let's go outside naked and howl at the moon man; others beat, maim, rob, 'cook', and sometimes climb trees and break their legs when they fall out; or.....there's that lady that went missing), so hearing that these radicals were drinking caused 'nuther cop friend to sigh.

Now this incident involving a little fragment of Wamego's finest had occurred about dusk. Near dawn, when 'nuther cop friend got off his shift, well-- more extreme things had transpired. It seems that Jay/Messiah Man (NOT supposed to drink due to bizarre past experiences and a propensity for hallucinatory and auditory visits from the Madonna or Native American spirits or his dead brother from Vietnam) had drank too much, driven out into the country near his acreage and pulled a handgun on the police chief's relative that resides nearby. The relative used his head, calmly listened to inarticulate Vietnam/religious ravings, offered to get a couple beers and dialed 911 as he pulled some cold ones from the fridge. 'Nuther cop friend partook in this stealthy 'take-down', drawing weaponry and other exciting, scary stuff and managed to pry Jay from his truck and the gun from his hand...

So, over the next couple years, we still exchanged nods and some small talk, a few sentences, some of which where very interesting and coherent as Jay is an incredible horticulturist. Other times his sentences were odd ramblings filled with such items as sprouting tomato seeds under grow lights, seeing sparks when he ejaculates, watching puppies levitate, and the growth of his climbing beans. Hmmm.

He's never actually scared me (remind self about the GUN plus suffers delusions) before, but last year he looked in the windows during mid afternoon. Odd; most people knock on doors. Then there was the night that he watched me sleep on the couch through the screen door (creepy crawly feeling here)...and then seeing him vacate my house when I returned from a walk (he sheepishly told me he went inside cause he 'thought I'd committed suicide in there'...what??!!) and then the hands on the thighs thing.... disturbing.

I apologized to the police last summer after these incidents; seems I had visited the police station many times in the past couple years, but they said they'd much prefer listening to this than issuing traffic tickets or something! I didn't want Jay arrested or anything since I didn't consider him harmful (again--remind self about the GUN plus suffers delusions) and one officer grinned—he'd had to figure out how to get Messiah Man out of a tree just a few days before (climbed to the highest limbs like a squirrel!).... but they said they'd keep their eye on him and circle my block in the evenings...and apparently one of the officers nicely told him to stay away since he hasn't been around since...

I sometimes feel guilty that I had ratted on him to the police when he was probably a very lonely troubled and trippin' individual that was starved for attention. His brother died not long ago, overdosing at one of the parties, so the only one left in the household is Catholic Myrt who reigns fanatical, which does nothing to help a possibly schizophrenic individual: impairments in the perception or expression of reality, most commonly manifesting as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions or disorganized speech and thinking in the context of significant social dysfunction.

Sigh. I feel badly...I would take a pie....but wait! Just sitting here remembering that Messiah Man has seen the inside of my house—did he observe too closely?/Bailey looks at my art and laughs “Mom, you're just so sacreligious.”/Could this be enough to set someone unstable off?/You never know about people...What goes on in their minds......oh, knock it off!

Note to Dan: No, this is not a story about Stalkerman. THAT guy scared me!

Friday, July 11, 2008

Technology. Oh brother.

I am sitting here messing around on the computer while Brigham's 2 friends are here laughing their fannies off--I can't figure out what is so funny because they are glancing at me...Brigham is X-boxing some game...and I finally glance at the TV. Oh Good God! There's a pic of a girl's pierced breasts on the entire start-up screen....WHAAAT?
Some girl (that I know) sent his friend a cellphone pic of her new 'jewelry'; he proceeded to share it with his friends; Brig downloaded it on the laptop, put it on a flashdrive and stuck it in his X-Box for our viewing displeasure.
Isn't technology awesome?

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Olives and Creamy Butter

I went adventuring up the Flint Hills today on a rarely traveled road--I'd been housesitting for several days and seen many turkey but nary an automobile! It had showered, so I took a bucket and a shovel and set out to dig some wildflowers--purple seems to be the prevalent color of the week, and many shades of it!
I stopped for some light lilac beebalm and ran into this fellow:
He let me carry him up to the truck and patiently waited for me to dig out the camera. I think he liked the view from a high level, as he made no attempt to struggle and didn't zoom away when I released him. Wasn't sure if he might be a rat snake(nah) or a yellow-bellied racer--if so, he was NOT a sprinter!

I might add here, that digging up flowers is IMPOSSIBLE. The shovel will go in about a 1/2 inch and hit rock. It took a lot of work to obtain several different types of purples, but I eventually got some--this plant was a couple feet across in width and was actually quite bright, but looks digitally lackluster here!

After dripping sweat and filling up 1\2 the truck bed with many plants, I drove over the next hill. Holy Cow! I had to stop...I had seen this plant before, just randomly, and only collarbone high, but this scene looked like something from Dr. Seuss:

I parked and jumped out just to see this amazing sight--a huge valley or giant ravine filled with a tremendous forest of flannel mullein. I'd never seen anything like it. Nate had found a little bog in Hawaii; here was a little pocket of "nature gone wild"! It was crazy with these towering sky-high plants. I couldn't reach the tops and I wandered around engrossed in this little microcosm of alien plants on steroids. I read that pioneers lined their shoes with the fuzzy leaves for warmth. Well, these would fit in a giant's shoes:

I'd always thought this plant seemed rather dry and ugly, but I have changed my mind. The whole ravine was filled with yellow blossoms and at their bases grew wild raspberries which also surprised me. I managed to get a pic of an awesome large insect tipped with maroon and orange...some type of hymenoptera nearly 1 1/4" across...and I don't believe we had him as part of the insect collection Bailey won the state entomology contest one year--the freezer and kitchen was filled with everything imaginable, plus enough for classmates too!:



The day ended with a large rock being slipped down a hill, tilted up at an angle at my tailgate, then the impossible task of trying to pick it up. 30 minutes later (getting my thigh trapped under it, then my right hand) I remembered that my brother carried a pole when rock hunting. I found a farmer's fencepost in the ditch and used it to pry/brace/tilt it up enough to push it in.
Here's an intensely sharply-leaved primrose? flower that was quite pretty blowing in the breeze. I thought it's papery petals were a nice contrast to it's devilish needles:

Then I saw a spider larger than the palm of my hand and had to get the hell out of there. Ugh.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Alas. An "All Call" for Wedding Pictures


Seeking any photos from friends or relatives that might have gotten pictures of Bailey or Bailey and Nate with her FAMILY: her mom, brothers Tegan and Brigham, and her Grandma Diederich. Also any photos of them with Nate's family: Barry, Sandy, Gabe.

We looked at over 700 photos and have been crying since yesterday, we are so heartbroken. The family that Bailey lived with, loved with, turned to, depended on, shared with....all the wonderfully good times and bad-- well, on the most important day of her life, she did not get any family snapshots of us together and it just makes us heartsick. It is devastating...

So, if anyone has ANYTHING of the people above...send it to heybaleproductions@gmail.com.
We would be eternally grateful.
Thank you so much!