November 28, 2010

  • A Brighter Day

    “Brighter Day” came immediately to mind when I thought of a way to describe how I feel now.  The next thing that popped into my mind was soap opera.

    “Our years are as the falling leaves. We live, we love, we dream, and then we go. But somehow, we keep hoping that our dreams come true on that brighter day.” 
    The Brighter Day began on NBC radio on October 11, 1948 as a replacement of lrma Phillips’s soap Joyce Jordan, M.D. and ran there until 1956.
    It was a formative force for me, part of the soundtrack to my childhood and youth, moving to TV a few years after my mother and I got our first TV.

    But I digress.  My topic today is my mood, which is appreciably lighter than yesterday.  It wasn’t until I experienced the amazing lightness of spirit with which I met the morning, that I realized I’d been down.

    It was all about firewood.  On a Monday in September, I phoned Trapper Scotty, whose merchandise, service and price I’d liked last year.  He told me he was finishing up some building projects and would get a load of wood to me by Thursday.  The following Thursday, ten days later, I phoned him again and he said he’d deliver our first load of wood, “in a few days.”  I waited a couple of weeks before phoning again.  He explained that he had to finish some building “before snow flies,” and I told him we still had some wood so I wouldn’t hassle him again for “a month or two.”  He laughed and said he’d see me “by the weekend.”

    Our last conversation was sometime before Halloween.  Yesterday, when I tried to call him, a robot voice told me the number was out of service.  It being a land line, and thus not merely a switched-off cell phone, I had a moment of panic.  Due to Scotty’s repeated delays, I had waited until we were dangerously low on wood.  My usual method of finding wood sellers was to look on bulletin boards in local lodges and stores.  I’d have to hitchhike to do that now, since the starter in our latest old rustbucket is recently defunct.

    It’s the traditional Alaskan way:  conducting business and correspondence via those ubiquitous notice boards… or, at least, it was… it used to be.  Now that internet is permeating the Railbelt, we are communicating more online than in the lodges.  As soon as that thought occurred to me, I googled, “firewood Susitna Valley.”  I opened pages from two of the results:  Craig’s List and Alaska’s List.  On Alaska’s List, I found Ben, who lives in Caswell Lakes, just a few miles from here.  His price is even lower than Scotty’s was, and he got here just a couple of hours after returning my call.

    That was a mixed blessing.  I can’t recall ever having an unmixed blessing in my life.  It had snowed, then rained, then froze, then snowed again, since Doug had shoveled the driveway.  He went out immediately and started clearing the way for Ben to deliver our wood.  When he came in to warm up and catch his breath, I went out and started helping.  I’d use the Mutt to break up the crust, and he’d use the Sleigh Shovel to move aside the chunks, each about the size of our kitchen sink.

    We both worked to exhaustion shoveling snow, and were still out there pulling up tarps out of the nasty, heavy, crusty stuff when Ben called, for final directions from down by the mailboxes where he’d turned off the highway.  He said he’d broken the sideboards off his truck and could only bring half a cord.  He has promised to complete that cord, fix the sideboards, and deliver four more cords.  Just now, he called to say he’s on his way with the second load.

    When Doug rose from the couch last night to go to bed, he failed on the first try.  He was stiff and sore, and so was I when I first tried to move after that brief rest last night.  It was an ibuprofen night for me.  I slept well and awoke elated.  *sigh*  Security is a big pile of firewood.

Comments (3)

Post a Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *