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A Short Era Ends
A Haibun

Once every year, the rock club I belong to holds a show and sale at a local Fairgrounds.  This year, we celebrate sixty years of being an organization!  For years – each year –  a thank you dinner is held for the vendors who come to sell their wares.  Included in the dinner, are the club volunteers who help to do the work of putting on the show and sale.  The show and sale is held the last full weekend of February.  In 2017, the club allowed me the pleasure of planning the dinner.  This opportunity occurs once every year, usually on the last Friday of February.  I remember the first years that I planned the dinner; it was held in the basement of the venue where the show and sale was held.  What that meant is that food needed to be ordered and brought in from a caterer.  A caterer that did not deliver.  I remember picking up the meal from the local restaurant, transporting it in my Suburban to the fairgrounds, and getting it into the space we were going to use for the dinner – of course, with the help of club members.  The restaurant food was great.  Chicken, vegetables, rolls, and all of the things that go with those items.  We also had drinks – coffee, water, etc.  Without a liquor license, we had nothing with alcohol in it.

Once every year
Volunteer-vendor dinner
Once every year

Dessert was always a huge cake decorated with club logo, as well as the year defining the years that the club has been functioning.  Table coverings were the club colors.   Flameless candles, gems, ropes of blue, silver, and gold were spread over the tables.  A change came requiring that we find another venue for the dinner.  Wrigley’s Chicago Bar and Grill (owned by Paula) turned out to be the best location.  The venue has a large banquet room, large enough for our gathering.  And, there is no charge.  So, the next years were all scheduled to be held at Wrigley’s.  Again, the table decorations enlivened the room.  The full-sheet cake was decorated for the occasion.  Attendees enjoyed the activity; maybe, as much as I enjoyed the planning.  Then came COVID.  Full-sheet cakes were no longer allowed by the State’s health department, so cupcakes were substituted – individually decorated by the baker (Cakes by Karen).

What cake for this year?
What chocolates for the table?
What decorations?

It’s been eight years of pleasure planning the dinner.  But, now I am old.  It is time for someone younger to take the reins and plan the dinner.  He or she will inherit all of the decorations.  The flameless candles that must have the batteries loaded and, then, removed, each year.  The small plates for chocolates – if the new planner decides to have chocolates.  Leftover table coverings – of course, more may need to be purchased.   All of the decorations.  But, never – never glitter.  Paula does not want to clean up glitter from the tables and floor.

Who will plan next year?
I hope someone steps up soon
To plan this event.

And, then, there is my car.  I love my Chevy Tahoe.  I  love to drive but driving these days is only around town.  And, only during the daylight hours.  No more night-time driving for me.  Of course, that means that I have to be very aware of time.  If I am somewhere away from home and darkness falls, I’m in trouble.  Also, no driving on long trips.  Daughter #1 has kindly been the driver for any long trips.  She also drives me around town as needed, as has my good friend, Rita.   There are so many other critical machines in my home.  But, I’ll leave them for another day.  And, this is the day.

As I sat with my leg pump for an hour this evening, I thought about all of the machines that help me do my work and provide health care for me.  The leg pump has a real name.  It’s a leg and ankle compression massager.  At least, that’s what I think it’s called, but I can’t find its paperwork.

Today, as I was doing my laundry, I started wondering about some things that happen.  Do you wonder about what goes on in your world that doesn’t seem to have an explanation?

Every time we moved, Mom would take it in stride, pack up our belongings, and make sure the move happened.  I think as kids, we never really understood what hardships she endured, every time this occurred.

It is said that we are a nation of immigrants.  Except, of course, the indigence peoples.  And, there is some question from some circles that the indigenous peoples came to this continent across the Bering Strait.  We will never know for sure.

While at Marina del Ray, I completed painting the image in my sketch book and caught my flight back home.  Months went by, and the check with which I’d paid for Henry’s paintings never cleared my bank.  I called Mary who told me that it was not uncommon for Henry to forget to deposit checks.  She took care of the matter in California, and I went about my business at home.

Henry Fukuhara was a gentleman, a watercolorist, a teacher, a resident of Manzanar, a mentor, a husband and father, and he was my friend.  And I loved him.  Yes, I loved him.

Daughter #1 and I just returned from a trip to Wisconsin to visit kin.  Driving to Wisconsin, our first day was clear and sunny.  In the afternoon, while talking with Daughter #3, she mentioned fog.  She and Grand #1 were driving home to Appleton from picking up the oxygen concentrator for my use, and they were driving in fog.  Fog immediately descended on us driving east on I-80 about 400 miles away from where they were driving!  Power of suggestion?

Every New Years’ Day, we often think about our blessings.  Those that we know we have received.  And, maybe, those that have been ignored.  I know that I’ve been told y’all before that I do feel blessed with the family and neighbors and friends that surround me and make my life special.

 Here’s another epistle about such a person.  A person that you’ve heard about before, but his good deeds bear repeating.  One night in December, I was doing my laundry.  I often do my laundry at night since my power supplier instituted a new rate schedule making electricity consumption more expensive during the daytime.  And, because I stay up until midnight, anyway, it’s easy for me to take care of loads of laundry between 8 pm and midnight.

 I installed my first load of laundry, started the washer, and went back up stairs to my computer.  I always set the timer on my phone for thirty-five minutes to remind me that the load is finished.  And, so, when the timer sounded, down the stairs I went.  Only to find the workroom floor covered in part with water!  Now, understand … I’m old!  I knew that I could not take care of this mess on my own.  Also, understand I don’t cry very often – why would I?  I live a blessed life.  But when there are things that happen that I seem to have no power over, I end up in tears! 

 My assessment of the mess was that: 1) there was, indeed, water on the floor; 2) no more water seemed to be pouring onto the floor; 3) there was no way I could possibly take care of this mess; and, 4) the only person I knew to help was Keith, the person in my life who has helped me take care of my house since Larry has been gone.

 I knew he was probably somewhere between slowing down and getting ready for bed.  I called and left a message about the mess, and that I didn’t know what to do.  He immediately returned my call, listened to my situation, and told me he’d be over as soon as he was appropriately dressed for a mess cleanup job.  We talked about needing a shop vac.  I have a shop vac – that hasn’t been used for more than eight years.   But, I thought it would work.

 While I waited for Keith to arrive, I searched the garage for the shop vac and it’s pieces and parts.  There seemed to be pieces and parts for more than one machine, so I waited for Keith to arrive before attempting to take everything down stairs.  He sorted the different pieces, deciding what to take down to the mess.  When we got to the basement, he agreed it was, indeed, a mess, but it could be solves.  First, he asked if I had shut off the water ?  No, I reasoned that I didn’t see any more water coming on to the floor than what was already there.  Lesson #1:  I should have shut off the water at the main source (at the shut off that he had installed some years ago). 

 Years and years ago, the washer’s drain hose (located at the back and bottom of the washer) came loose.  That was the first time we had water in the work room.  Gallons of water.  I have plumbing in my basement that is as old as the house which was built in the 1980s.  There is a stand pipe to which the washer water used to be pumped and drained, but it developed a problem of spitting the waste water out onto the wall and floor.  To eliminate that problem, I had a sink installed by the washer for the wash water to drain into through the washer’s hose.  And, I reasoned, because of the old plumbing and because of the lint that washing generates, it would be wise to use a lint snare on the end of the hose; Larry always bought them at the hardware store where he worked.  It fastens with a nylon natural cable tie, secured very tightly over the end of the drain hose catching that lint as it comes out of the washer into the sink and keeping it from the old drain pipes.  As the lint snares fill after many washings, the snare is replaced; I use pliers to bring the tie to a very snug fitting around the hose because my fingers are not strong enough.

 Keith checked the hoses that feed water to the washer.  No problems.  No leaks spewing water.  He checked the “drip pan” that is under the washer to catch any errant water drips.  No problem.  It was dry.  Then, he checked the hose that drains into the sink.  There in the bottom or the sink was the lint snare.  It had come loose from its mooring around the drain hose and had plugged the drain in the sink!  Even though I thought I’d been keeping an eye on the snares, assuring they were safely secure, it was obvious that I’d been remiss in my responsibilities.  Gallons of water had spilled over the top of the sink and flooded the floor.

 Lesson #2:  Explore all of the possibilities for the mess – before panicking.  After figuring out the source of the problem – then, panic! 

 Keith used the ancient shop vac and picked up most of the water.  He carried the water up the stair, not wanting to pour it into the sink for all of the extra floor lint to go down the drain.  On his recommendation, I will purchase a new shop vac – for the “next time” it is needed.  I did wonder where one takes a big old shop vac to get it out of the house.  Can it be recycled?  Keith suggested putting it on the curb – after all, it does still work.

 Lesson #3:  Be extremely thankful that I have patient people in my life willing to help this old person in a crisis.  I do thank Keith for his help, and his family for understanding that he takes that time to help someone like me!

Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.