Whisk on a High Wire: entry Five

Part 5

Every small town has its lone ranger thus Elmer fought his battles as had my father years ago in a little town on the plains. Elmer’s mayoral stint along with his occupation on a nationally significant yet locally controversial organization had won him some yin friends and some yang enemies. His scarred soul bore the evidence and still he seemed to soldier on.

We sat in the living room of a house he’d inherited recently. A house hand built by his friend’s father. Three stories of old growth fir with floor boards so well placed that the only thing that creaked when he walked across them were Elmer’s brittle bones. I learned of his history, trespasses against him and not enough about the relationship with the woman who’s death had allowed Elmer to move from a 3 room shack to a century old mansion. Kind ghosts kept him from rattling around there providing comfort and company. In spite of his diminished height he seemed to fit perfectly into the house. I hoped he had some time to rock in the living room chair with is friend.

Elmer and I stood in his back yard adjacent to the café. “Sue” he said “After my surgery I expect to be in your place every morning at 6 AM.”

“That’s good Elmer because since we won’t be opened until 6:30 I can put you to work making the coffee”. He chuckled, “well then I guess I can adjust my schedule.” It dawned on me that those of us still working assume the retired have no schedule. We tend to expect them to be available to us at our convenience. Perhaps it is having a schedule that keeps older people from falling into the abyss of loneliness.

As we gazed at the famous formation of the hills through the open beams on the unfinished roof I blurted out “Oh, Elmer! I’m taking your view of the mountains!” With hands on hips he retorted, “Well, it is a lot bigger than I’d expected.” “It’s a lot bigger than I’d expected too” I almost moaned. We stood in silence for a few more minutes then I bid him good by and walked through his garden gate toward my office.

Elmer had sold us all of his lots and on one stood a one-room cabin that had originally been a YWCA. This building has provided a place for book clubs, Boy Scouts, bridge clubs, sewing bees and any number of meetings. Elmer had turned it into a work-shop leaving me a bench that ran wall to wall. In the rafters were screens that did or did not fit the crusty, wavy multi paned windows. Linen lined curtains hung from wooden rings the lining so fragile it crumbled when touched. Handmade rods held them firm and strong. People who made things back then mirrored the essence of these rods. Regardless of their stand there was no question of it but most respected each other for their ideals even though they may disagree. You can make waves in a small town if you choose, they are easier to make in little ponds but you’d better be prepared to sit alone in your boat.

My so called office consisted of a card table and the handmade sign I’d had at the fair. My vision across the yard grew bigger every day kind of like a puppy you adopt assuming it will be a smallish adult. Reflecting back on the day of groundbreaking when so many of the best the town has to offer gathered with us to initiate this process, I remember all of us walking around the perimeter burning sage and blessing the four corners. I was split between beliefs until I buried the packet of tokens beneath where table number 10 would view this part of the world. Somehow, knowing that this moment would always be there and that this building would outlive me by perhaps a century or more sealed my direction.

A man approached me just after our ceremony and handed me a tarnished handmade soda fountain spoon he just found on the ground and I wondered what other treasures awaited me just below the surface. Treasures Elmer had walked over for decades that would bubble to the surface for newly awakened eyes. Still, the walk around the grounds seemed enormous, much larger than it did when Elmer’s little cabin sat here. That cabin was now 2 blocks down the street getting transformed into a gift shop. Part of me wanted to run down there and apply for a job.