Adventures in a Small Town

Dear Citizens,

A couple weeks ago my sister and I set off for the small town where our grandmother, 91, now resides in a rest home. From Granny's point of view, she came to live in the rest home under the guise of "28 day rehab" when she was discharged from the hospital after the last of many trip and falls and heart episodes. She was coaxed into going to rehab by the nice-looking young doctor at the clinic. Granny has always been a sucker for handsomeness or men in general. Once in preparation for minor surgery a few years ago and with a dreamy look in her eyes she whispered to me "Doesn't Dr. Cotton look just like Dan Rather?" She has many crushes, including George Strait, Pat Sajak, and John at the Dairy Queen. There's also John's friend, Milton. Granny's conflicted over Milton because "the man's ugly as sin" yet "has the best personality."

You know you've arrived in town, pop. 3000, once you pass the summer sausage-smoked cheese-brittles-fudge shop on the left and the veterinary clinic with the sign "Rattlesnake Vaccine Now Available" on the right. Before you arrive at the town square, you pass the Chicken/Taco Express (75 cents for a large iced tea, and yes, you can order it unsweetened) and The Donut Shop situated in an old gas station with the sign "Long Johns on Special."

You know you've arrived in town when your father (he lives up the hill from The Donut Shop) hits you up for a $30 loan until he can recall the P.I.N. for his new debit card, and presumably to get his fix of iced tea and long johns for the weekend. You also know you've arrived when your uncle (he also lives up the hill and next door to your father) calls your cell phone repeatedly. Anticipating visitors is big in a small town.

At the town square, there's a grocery store, cafe, florist, gift shop, hardware store, gun shop, and dueling pharmacies - on opposite sides of the square. I imagine a real drug war going on there. I've explored a couple of shops and can report that the grocery store smells like bologna and 50% of the produce section is frozen iceberg lettuce the size of bowling balls. The linoleum floor is uneven and crackles. I like that. As for the flower shop it's overflowing with black and red ribbon and silk mums to support the high school. Go Bulldogs. Fortunately, red is my grandmother's favorite color.

After a left turn at the square and out on the highway, there's a local hamburger joint ("sources" report the iced tea costs $1 - a rip off) and an ALCO general merchandise store. I've made many trips to Granny's new home in the past 6 months and have found an abundance of useful things at ALCO: her favorite jelly beans (I'm sure Granny had a crush on Ronald Reagan), Lubriderm, sleeping cap, socks, pillows, Christmas decorations, sweatsuits (the rest home's official uniform) and for me, a current women's magazine. Beware. The magazines at the store on the square are dusty with camouflaged men on the cover.

Now to the rest home. There's good and bad and much resting.

The good:

1. Granny
2. The patio and outdoor area.
3. The large window in her room with a nice view.
4. The Texas-sized lobby and decor.

The bad:

1. The incessant buzzing and beeping noises.
2. An odor in a couple of spots along the corridor.
3. The temperature - it's insanely warm. Tropical without the paradise.
4. The resident who insists on wheeling himself to the lobby in his shower chair.

You must know this is not a retirement center or senior citizen center. It's not that vibrant. No dominoes clicking on the tables. The residents are mostly confined to wheelchairs and need full-time care. In advanced age, they have difficulty communicating with each other. Granny is one of the more spry and social residents but reports she can't see to play bingo. She does engage in wheelchair exercise class and never misses a meal in the dining hall. She's gained a much needed 11 pounds since she arrived.

There's an issue with her vision. We're not sure what she can and cannot see. Example:

Granny: CitizenB, your face is just a blur to me.
CitizenB: Okay, let me try something. Look at me. What am I doing now?
Granny: You're sticking out your tongue at me!
CitizenB: Bingo!

While we're there, I'm compelled to talk to every resident I encounter, including the man in the shower chair. For the record, he's "Becky's Daddy" and loves chicken. And there's the lady with powdered eyeglasses, bless her heart. I also attempt conversation with Granny's roommate Dorothy - not to be confused with Granny's friend from the dining hall Dorothy a/k/a Floozy Dot. Of course, Granny would make friends with the woman in love with a married man and not the woman she argues with over closet space. I don't blame her. There's more mystery with Floozy Dot. Roommate Dorothy has a high pitched, squeaky voice and it's almost as bad as the buzzing and beeping noises. As for the married man, yes, he and his wife live at the center, and as far as Granny knows Floozy Dot's love for him is a secret. She says: "We don't talk about it." I'm sure.

Granny has two sons. As mentioned, both live in town and are single. No sane woman would have them. Granny's not entirely happy because one, my uncle, visits too much, and two, my dad, visits too little. She doesn't want to complain about too many visits, but she lets on that #1 son can get on her nerves. As for #2 son, my dad, she reports that she doesn't know what's wrong with him and if "I had not been there during his birth I wouldn't believe he's mine." Ouch.

#1 son is very social and enjoys chatting up the nursing home aides and women at the Dollar Store. #2 son is anti-social and enjoys dreaming up new craft projects involving feathers, beads, leather, wood and old car parts. #1 son has a beloved cat. #2 son has three dogs - make that two dogs and a wolf-dog. Yes, my father lives with wolves. Before becoming a wolf-owner, he preferred to date women he met at Pow-Wows. One conversation went like this:

Daddy: I'm seeing an ol' girl. (Yes, this is how he communicates.)
CitizenB: What's her name?
Daddy: Feather.
CitizenB: Heather?
Daddy: No, Feather.
CitizenB: What's her real name?
Daddy, chuckling: Brenda (you see, my mom/his first wife's name is Brenda and she has been justly and majorly upset with him for 45 years and will be for all eternity.)
CitizenB: Interesting. I guess in comparison, this would make Mom's native name "Tomahawk."

Getting back to Granny...during our last visit and out of the blue, Granny announced that three nights before she had witnessed a possum in her room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she pointed to where she saw the little critter before he hid behind the dresser.

CitizenB: Granny, are you sure you saw a possum?
Granny: Yep.
CitizenB: Could it have been a mouse or worse, a rat?
Granny: No, it was a possum.
CitizenB: What did you do?
Granny: Well, I lifted my feet off the floor.
CitizenB: Did you tell someone?
Granny: No. They wouldn't believe me.

A few minutes later, a nurse's aide came into the room and my sister reported the possum sighting. The aide stood silently for a minute and then announced, "Well, let's hope it stays behind the dresser." As a trained investigator and while in search for the vending machine late in the afternoon, I noticed a large door off the dining hall slightly ajar. It led to a patio for employees only providing them a place to cool off and prevent dying of heat stroke. In this rural setting, I suppose it's not impossible for a hungry or confused possum to find his way inside. Also for the record, there's one thing we cannot dispute, blind or not, my country grandmother knows her vermin.

After a full day, my sister and I head back to a different civilization. We try to comprehend everything we heard and witnessed, including the resident who carried on a loud conversation with herself about an event occurring most likely around 1928. We were unaware women cursed so much in 1928.

As we leave town, there's a large cat sitting near the square waving us goodbye. He's a rather strange cat with a solid white body and a black head and neck. Somehow he was assigned the wrong cat's body. Otherwise, he appears to be wearing a ski mask so he could be a bank robber cat. It's too bad Granny wasn't there to make a positive identification. For all we know he could have been a possum.

CitizenB