RESULT: The drug worked quickly. The water went straight down. The choke had passed. I told Arthur that was good, otherwise we could have been there a long time and he would have heard my whole life story and I his.
THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: What was Arthur’s life story? Did he ever have a wife? Kids? What was my life story?
THIS IS WHAT I WANT ON MY TOMBSTONE: He loved his children.
WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, Mom’s in one of her moods.
WHAT THE WIFE WAS DOING: Unloading the dishwasher, but doing it by slamming the pots onto their shelves.
WHAT THE WIFE SAID: Can’t anyone else help to do this? Jen motioned with her arm, taking in the kitchen, the messy countertops, the food bits on the floor, pieces of carrots dried and turned white kicked up under the shelves. The books and papers on the table, the loud toy guns, the fishing reels needing line.
WHAT THE CHILDREN DID: Ran outside.
WHAT I DID: Ran outside.
WHAT THE CHILDREN DID: Climbed me.
WHAT I SMELLED: Their hair, a sweet smell and also an outdoors smell, the smell of fall’s fallen leaves kicked up.
CALL: No call.
ACTION: Stayed at home.
RESULT: Wished the children were home with me, resented school for taking them away and teaching them nothing. They would learn more at home with me. I would teach them things I want to learn. Violin, German, the possibility of time travel.
THOUGHTS WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE WOODS LOOKING FOR SPOTS TO RAISE DEER STAND: When shooting the rifle, make sure the deer is moving, otherwise he will notice the safety releasing, he will bolt before you squeeze off the shot. Will I even see a buck this year?
WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, there was a moose in the back of the house!
WHAT THE WIFE SAID: A cow, not a bull.
WHAT I SAID: Everybody, let’s go for a walk and see if we can see her again.
WHAT WE CAME ACROSS: Moose poop. Bear poop. Deer poop. Coyote poop. Fallen over rotting mushrooms that looked like loose poop.
WHAT I POINTED OUT TO MY SON: The barks of trees rubbed off by the antlers of deer. Flattened ferns where deer had lain.
WHAT SAM SAID: I cannot wait to hunt, the deer are all around us!
WHAT WE DID: Put our hands down on the flattened ferns to see if they were still warm and then we walked back home, avoiding breaking spanning cobwebs in our way.
WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Spaghetti with meat sauce, black olives, and mushrooms.
WHAT MIA, MY YOUNGEST, MY SIX-YEAR-OLD, SAID TO ME BEFORE BEDTIME: Poppy, I’m going to cold you up. Then she reached her cold hands up under my shirt and touched my back.
WHAT SAM, MY OLDEST, MY TWELVE-YEAR-OLD, SHOWED ME BEFORE BEDTIME: How to exhale when squeezing off a shot to avoid excessive movement and achieve the truest aim.
WHAT SARAH, THE MIDDLE CHILD, MY TEN-YEAR-OLD, SAID TO ME: Lyle got detention for throwing a pencil at Miss Ackerman when she turned her back.
WHAT THE OWLS SAID AT NIGHT: We are in every tree in a five-mile radius.
WHAT THE WIFE SAID IN BED WHILE THE LIGHT OF THE FULL MOON CAME IN THROUGH THE WINDOW: Somebody turn off that light.
CALL: A Dutch Warmblood needs teeth floated.
ACTION: Went to farm where horse is stabled. Brought out floats. Tried floating teeth without giving a drug to the horse. Horse clearly needed drug. Drew up shot, injected horse.
RESULT: Was able to float horse’s teeth, but the woman who owned the horse could talk a dog off a meat wagon, and I had to listen to her. Funny how the horses like their teeth floated. Grinding down the back hooks, this horse closed his eyes; if he could purr he would. My arm was sore afterward, was the woman’s mouth tired? She talked of gardens and nematodes and the forecasts of the
THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: This is where the horses live, in cozy barns, the pastures here still green, a heron flies across, the cows all standing north to south, the attraction of the poles said to be the reason for their alignment.
WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, you smell like horse manure, and what’s that on your upper arm?
WHAT I SAID: Why, that’s horse saliva.
WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Pizza.
WHAT KEPT ME AWAKE AT NIGHT: Pizza.
WHAT I LOOKED FOR OUT THE WINDOW WHILE I WAS AWAKE: The bright lights, the object moving back and forth in the sky, but I didn’t see it. I just saw the horizon and what looked to be the sun still setting, only it was the middle of the night and the sun was long gone. I wondered if what I was looking at was just the glow from the moon shining over our back field.
CALL: A one-inch-long curved laceration above the eyebrow on Sarah.
ACTION: Laid out a blanket and a pillow on kitchen table. Told her to lie down on them under the bright light. Blocked her, then began to suture.
RESULT: Sam took pictures with the camera, so close to her face I had to tell him to step back.
WHAT MY WIFE SAID: Maybe we should take her to a real doctor.
WHAT I SAID: I am a real doctor.
WHAT MY WIFE SAID: They have staples, they have glue these days at the emergency rooms. Maybe she won’t scar as much with staples or glue, she said.
WHAT I SAID: A scar gives you character.
WHAT SARAH SAID: I want to go to the emergency room!
WHAT SAM SAID: I took eighty-six pictures; want to see?
THOUGHTS WHILE WIFE COOKED DINNER: We must buy a cow. The depression will be upon us soon. No one will be able to afford milk when it happens. Milk will be a thing of the past. And cheese, think of the cheese. We will make our own ice cream, we will no longer have to buy cartons of it from the supermarket, the ice cream whipped with air. Why are we paying for air? When the depression comes we will no longer be able to afford our property taxes. We must sell now, go live in a small house in the woods. We won’t have a view. We won’t be taxed for our view if we don’t have one. We will not have a pond or a stream. We will not be taxed for them if we don’t have them. We will continue to heat with wood. We will live off the grid. Our light will come from solar panels. Our woodstove will be our kitchen stove. We will never turn a knob to turn it on. There will always be heat on the range.
WHAT I TOLD MY WIFE BEFORE BED: Let’s move to the woods.
WHAT MY WIFE SAID: We already live in the woods.
WHAT I SAID: No, the real woods, way back on the roads where the poles for electricity end.
WHAT MY WIFE SAID: I am not moving from here. I like our house. I like our pond. I like our fields.
WHAT I SAID: You will not have a choice. The calls will stop. People will stop treating their horses, and cows, and sheep. It will cost too much money to treat them. Even if the calls do not stop and I still get called to treat the horse or the cow or the sheep, the bill will not be paid. The people will not pay. Our taxes will continue to rise.
