Cell Phone With Its Red Case
Well, it’s a steep learning curve for a young woman of the 1890s, but I do believe that Mrs. Crouch tried her best to master the mysteries of my cell phone. There really is no other explanation.
It all began yesterday afternoon when I drove through the raindrops to pick up my neighbor Carol for our coffee date at Colleen’s Coffee Shop in Ocean Park. I was a few minutes early so I took my cell phone from my jacket pocket and called her, telling her I was out front. She quickly joined me and then, as Lewis and Clark said in their journals:”We proceeded on.”
There were about a gazillion cars at Colleen’s so we parked at the western end of the allotted space, right next to a pickup with a very diligent watch dog — barking, barking, barking. We gave him due praise and then went on in to meet Colleen’s newest cashier and to enjoy our coffee and conversation. It was lovely. as always.
Inside Colleen’s — The Perfect Gathering Place for Refreshment and Conversation
Back to Carol’s an hour and a half later and a short visit with Tucker to see his new Oysterville Cemetery Map. (Bravo!) Then home to do a little more getting ready for tomorrow’s house concert. Then, for some reason (was I going to call Charlie for something?) I reached in my back pocket for my cell phone. Not there.
For the next few minutes I looked in my purse, in my jacket pockets, in my car and… then again. And maybe again. No cell phone. I drove over to Carol and Tucker’s: “Have you seen my….?” The answer was no. Carol called my number and had me go listen in the car… just in case. No phone ringing.
“Come on with me,” she said. “We’re driving to Colleen’s” — which, by then we knew was closed. When we arrived, I banged on the door; Carol searched the parking lot — to no avail. No, Colleen hadn’t seen it. She and I looked in the area that Carol and I had been sitting and we promised to call one another if it turned up.
On our way back to Carol’s place (and my car) we stopped at my house to try calling there. But before Carol could even punch in the number she said, “Is that your phone? On the chair?”
And there it was! Right on one of the chairs I had been setting up for the House Concert tomorrow! Carol said that my jaw actually dropped! Talk about gobsmacked! And just what was Mrs. C. doing anyway? Trying to reserve a seat?
I don’t know which emotion took precedence — relief or incredulity! I phoned Colleen to call off the search and then went with Carol to pick up my car — clutching my cell phone and wondering how in the world Mrs. C. managed to get that close to modern-day contact. But then, truth to tell, I wonder that about all of us nearly every day!
It was a full weekend in every respect.
Mostly, though, the weekend was full of laughter — the giggling kind and the delighted kind and the sore-amazed kind. It might have been the best weekend ever!
Gobsmacked! It seems as though I could come up with a better description of last night’s concert but, really, I can’t. This is the third time Aaron Larget-Caplan has performed here in this very house and I still can’t believe that he comes to our little corner of the world – especially after all the other places he performs!
in 2015. His recordings are available on Albany, Navona and Stone Records. He serves on faculty at the University of Massachusetts Boston and formerly the Boston Conservatory. And since this was written last September, Aaron has added Taiwan to his list of venues and is working on a trip to Japan. Talk about Oysterville being on the world map!!
Oh my! What a program! And definitely a feast for the eyes as well as the ears and the soul! As one guest pointed out later, Aaron’s hands not only work independently of one another, but totally differently – a right-brain/left-brain thing to do with precision and automation as contrasted with the lyricism and creativity. Wow! And here I was just being gobsmacked!
… we heard not a thing. Not a bang or a whimper. When you consider the weight of that old cast iron tub, you’d think we’d have heard SOMEthing. Or that the house would have shifted just a bit on its foundation. Or at the very least, the floor tiles in the bathroom would have cracked.
I became alarmed when I saw that Duckie was pitching forward at a rather precarious angle and Frog had hopped right down to the bottom of the tub! From my vantage point, everything else looked fairly normal. It wasn’t until I bellied onto the floor and took a look under the tub that I saw the problem. (And the dust!) Her (the tub must be female with those substantial curves at the front and back ends…) right front foot was lying on its side. Disconnected and useless!
My best guess is that those claw feet got to tapping to the music of the Skamokawa Swamp Opera last night. (They were playing in the room just next door.) Toe-tapping by a clawfoot tub can be dangerous! Just ask Duckie and Frog!
The musicians were Larry Murante and Wes Weddell with a guest appearance by Nick Drozdowicz. Plus, there was an audience participation opportunity, as well the ambiance added by a whole host of ‘connections’ among us all — connections that spanned the centuries. They ranged from Sarah Crouch, our resident ghost who lived here in 1892, to Tod Marshall, the current Poet Laureate of Washington State who we hosted for a Poetry Reading last September. (Actually, Nyel had a sudden hospital stay and we couldn’t be here as planned, so I guess we were ghost hosts!)
