Chapter One, Episode 156 - A Rough Start - Standing Still Slowly Blog Post

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

'Write what you know' - a maxim that many, many authors and writing educators share. I know about various staff rooms and their condition from my previous nursing career - 'nuff said. Another area that many, in any workforce experience, are phones ringing....and ringing. I've learned over time that we are each surrounded by these sort of seemingly mundane, and definitely annoying, details. They become expressive when put in the context of the storied lives that we lead. There were few corrections that were needed....some of the mundane details of writing: a missing quotation mark, a missing period, duplicate words. They allow our storied ordinary details flow gently as we read.

A Rough Start

His keycard had not even touched the reader for his office door. Inside, the phone started ringing. He muttered quietly to himself “It’s started already and I’m not even in the door yet. I’m just going to let it ring.” Randall Matthews, Social Worker at Hartley General opened his office door. He stood still for a few minutes, breathing in the empty space of the office - except for the damn phone. When he passed his desk, he had glanced at it. The display panel showed that seven new phone messages had come in overnight. His bicycle cleats clicking on the floor he went to the tiny staff room at the back. He couldn’t help but notice the disarray. A tiny fridge that needed cleaning, dirty coffee cups in the sink and coats abandoned on hooks. He looked for coffee and the coffee maker. No coffee grounds, no filters……. “I’ll take care of that later.” Still talking to himself, a bit louder now to drown out the incessant ringing…..as soon as one person gave up, another person took over the phone line…… he said “I have to get organized first.” He hung up his jacket and bike helmet and changed his shoes. Hearing the office door open, Randall called out “Just a minute.” He checked himself in the mirror above the eyewash station. Smiled at himself just to practice and as he walked out, he smoothed his maroon and gold plaid shirt and bent to brush road dust from his denim jeans. While he was still head down, he felt a presence. Standing up slowly, he saw a man sitting on one corner of his desk. By his white coat and stethoscope, he assumed he was looking at one of the doctors. With a pleasant smile, the doctor spoke “Are you one of the social workers?” Randall replied “This morning I am the social worker. Who are you and how can I help you?”

Jeremy jumped off the corner of the desk and stuck out an elbow in greeting. He missed being able to shake hands, but this virus had changed many, many things. The elbow bump was born. Through his face mask, Jeremy introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Jeremy Crawford and I left you a phone message last night.” Randall had situated himself in his desk chair, began cleaning his desk and replied “Yes, I did get that message at the end of my shift and it’s on the top of my to-do list for this morning, but here you are.” From his bottom desk drawer, Randall had retrieved a container of Sani-wipes. While pleasantries were exchanged, he wiped his keyboard, screen, top of the desk with special attention to the corner of the desk the doctor had just vacated. Tossing the used wipe in the garbage, he then reached to another drawer, pulled out a fresh box of non-surgical face masks and put one on. He gathered up clipboard and pens, checked the paperwork he had left ready from the night before and stood to get on with his day. Hoping this Dr. Crawford would get the hint, he started towards the door. He didn’t move. So Randall stopped and said “I don’t have that much information for you, Dr. and as you see, I am only starting my day.”

Jeremy smiled at this man who, obviously, had not had a great start to his morning, but he did want to relay Emmie’s message to him and get a sense of what he had planned. Jeremy had already been on shift for an hour, but was taking some time - along with his pager - to see if he could talk with whomever the social worker was. “Would a cup of cafeteria coffee help? Then I can get out of your hair and both of us can get back to work. I’ll be in the hospital on my own shift til late tonight, but right now I’ve got some time and you look like you need to take a break already!”

~~~~~

Something about this man was very disarming. Randall felt himself relax and decided that he would be doing a disservice to patients, families, and other staff if he didn’t get his insides as organized as his outsides. “Dr. Crawford, that sounds like a great idea - even the cafeteria coffee. When I was back in our untidy little staff room, I discovered that there was not even crumb of coffee. So the cafeteria it is.”

The two men had managed a hurdle that had threatened to devolve into nothingness. Walking down the hall, their conversation was not about health care, but about cars vs bikes. “You just don’t have the same feeling of freedom in a car. Sure they’re pretty and powerful. I like driving, but on a bike ride home after one of these days, all the tension goes flying out behind me.”

“But a car. You don’t get wet - unless you have the top down when it rains. When you’re the only one on the road and you put your foot down, it’s a feeling like no other. Two coffee please, make them large. Here Randall, I don’t know what you take in your coffee so I’ll let you deal with that. Shall we take that corner table? A little more private.”

They both sat down. The big bright cafeteria with lots of windows was not yet filled up the noise and chatter of others. “Let me tell you my story first. I came on duty just after Mrs. Tyler was admitted, so some of my information is second hand. But I did see the photo that seems to have caused all the trouble. The name on the back is the same as the name of a dear friend of mine. Her first name and her maiden name. The picture was of a girl, that looked very familiar to me.”

Randall set his coffee down. “So is that who you called that night? The friend of yours?”

Dr. Crawford frowned and looked away. “Yes that was my mistake. I broke the confidentiality of the patient by doing that. All of us on duty didn’t think Mrs. Tyler would make it through the night, and I had been told that she said she didn’t have anyone. It’s the first time she’s ever been in this hospital so no one knows anything about her.”

For the next hour, their voices low, the two men discussed Emmie’s concerns about where Mrs. Tyler would go when she was discharged and what her life story really was. Another staff passing the table caught the words ‘Beaufort Estate’ but it didn’t mean anything to her. Someone else heard ‘writing letters’ not knowing that a penpal relationship had been established between Emmie Beaufort and Carrie Tyler.

~~~~~

Both pagers went off at the same time. “Well, I guess our time is up! Thanks Jeremy, you’ve given me more background. I’ll find out about those issues you brought up and get back to you. Maybe later today if I’m lucky. And get yourself a bike!”

“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations 

and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”

~ Bruce Lee

Chapter One, Episode 155 - Stretched - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Two areas of writing, character development and the relationship between the characters, are part of the puzzle of writing stories. My experience with this has been in the many episodes of Situationally Theirs. In my library of writing books and searching the web, there are many tips for character development. Dialogue, important according to the information found, also aids me in visualizing the character and the setting. The next is showing relationships. There are three characters in the first part of this episode - Cook, her employer Emelina, and Emelina's friend, Dr. Crawford. The experience they share is casual, friendly and respectful. When there is only one character, Randal Matthews, Social Worker, in the second part, the relationship is with the setting. Still lots more to learn for this writer. (There were typographical errors to be corrected, and then only a few.) A pleasant read.

Stretched

She always enjoyed her walk to the Estate in the early morning, even if it was raining. Today, she could just enjoy a clear morning, stars winking out, and a sickle moon riding low in the sky. Rounding the corner to the back of the house, she saw it. Speaking to the squirrels that were already up and grubbing for something to eat, she told them “That’s a pretty fancy looking little car! I wonder what Dr. Crawford's doing here at this hour.” Mary Elizabeth Saunders, better known as Cook, chuckled and, talking to a noisy crow sitting on the eaves, she asked “Do you suppose he and Miss Emelina aren’t up yet?” As Cook stepped up on the porch, the crow rasped at her and flapped away. Talking to herself she went on “I don’t see any lights on, so I guess I’d better be as quiet as I can and get the coffee on.” 

~~~~~

Emmie heard the quiet downstairs being disturbed. She opened her eyes just enough to see the time: 0730. That must be Cook. Should I let him sleep a little more. As quietly as possible, Emmie slipped out of bed, covering her cold skin with her housecoat. “Emmie. Where are you going? It’s not time to get up yet.” Emmie slid back under the covers, housecoat still on. “Cook’s here, Jeremy. We should start…..”    “Start what, Em. I’m still too sleepy, but you could try to wake me up.” ….. “Jeremy Crawford, behave yourself. I’m going to shower. If you want to come with me you can, if you want to stay in bed being lazy that’s your choice.”  Emelina got out of bed despite his groaning pleas, and walked across the hall for her shower. 

~~~~~

At the stove, getting a good breakfast started for the two lovebirds, Cook had her back to the stairway. She heard them come down the stairs, whispering like a pair of conspirators making a plan. Cook smirked and stifled a chuckle. A little too brightly and in unison, Emmie and Jeremy called out “Good morning, Cook!” Emelina whispered “I thought I was supposed to say good morning.” Jeremy whispered back “No, I was the one. Shh. Cook’s turning around.”

“Well, good morning you two. Did you sleep well?’ Without waiting for an answer, Cook gestured towards the coffee machine. “Coffee’s ready and as soon as I set the table, I’ll serve up your breakfast.” As she reached up in the cupboard for two plates, her smile never leaving her face, she added “You’re both looking so very rested.”  Jeremy decided to break the rapidly thawing ice “Cook, you darling girl, you know perfectly well why we look so very rested.” Cook feigned innocence. “Do I now? I’m just the cook here and only just now saw the two of you. There are three bedrooms up there and a nice comfortable sofa in the living room. I certainly don’t get any messages from our little ghost girl Sarah.”

Emelina listened to the exchange with amusement. “Jeremy, leave Cook alone. If you’re not careful, you’ll not get any breakfast and Cook will usher you out of the house before you know it. I’m going to have my breakfast. Cook, get your coffee and toast and sit down with us.”

~~~~~

Several days before at the hospital:

There is a Social Work department in every city hospital, and not always staffed very well, considering that only small compliment of Social Workers took care of the entire hospital. All the societal living problems that patients brought with them landed on their desks. Mrs. Carrie Tyler was one of them that Randall Matthews had dealt with since the day after the patient’s admission. Randall, relatively new to the hospital and newly graduated with a B.S.W., liked order. As educated as he was, he was not prepared for the puzzle of Mrs. Tyler’s life that would consume his morning.

Except for her date of birth, her name, and her most recent address, she had little paper work with her. Initially the physician and nurses hadn’t expected her to live, however her condition had slowly improved. One of the physicians - Randall had to look at his notes - ‘Dr. Jeremy Crawford’ - had left him a message to see her about ‘her situation.’ What an odd message. ‘her situation?’  Randall Matthews called the nurses station. He didn’t get much more information as the unit clerk didn’t have the it or couldn’t give it out. The nurses were all too occupied with their patients to take his call. So this is what being a Social Worker is all about. Phone calls and literal leg work to track down information. 

Randall looked at his watch - it was 8 a.m.. Talking to an empty office, aloud he outlined his morning “I have a meeting with all the clinical staff at 11. I should have time to see all the patients on the Covid19 floor and review their charts.” Randall was mistaken. He spent most of the next three hours, reading Mrs. Tyler’s chart (not much there except medical info), reviewing the adoption papers which were copies of the originals from about 30 years ago, and he almost missed an early entry in the nurses’ notes - something about a photograph with a name on the back. He approached the only nurse in the nurses station and asked if she knew what that meant. “Oh, that’s my note. I was working last night when she came in. She got so agitated about that photograph we finally pinned it to her pillow where she could reach up and touch it. It wasn’t the most sanitary thing…. but then you don’t need to know all that. She’s resting quietly right now, but if she’s awake she may want to meet you. The other thing she said to me was that she didn’t have anybody. Dr. Crawford called somebody and a couple of women came up for a while. He talked to them and then they left. I don’t know who they were. He said something about they may be family?”  Miss Green looked up…..”Excuse me, Randall, I’m getting off soon. My replacement is here and I need to give her report.”

For Randall, that was just the beginning. He came to see Mrs.Tyler everyday and was able to speak with Dr. Crawford once. He didn’t get much more information except that the person he had called on the night of her admission was a possible relative. He learned on one of his visits to Mrs. Tyler that she was corresponding with this person that Dr. Crawford mentioned. She improved slowly and was no longer having to go to Intensive Care. Her attending doctor was making noises that discharge was imminent. Randall needed to get started on a discharge plan that did not involve discharging her to no one and no where. Possibly a Care Home would have a bed for her for a longer convalescence. He still needed to talk to her about the adoption papers and the photograph. After another busy day with sorting out life stories and listening to them all, Randall got back to his office when it was time to end his shift. There was a message on his desk phone. Dr. Crawford wanted to meet with him about Mrs. Tyler. I’ll call him back in the morning. I just want this day to end.

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience 

can never go back to its old dimensions.”

~ Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Chapter One, Episode 154 -To Atone and To Forgive - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

“Very often, I found in my re-writes, I had all the elements, just slightly out of order. - Julia Cameron, The Right to Write”

I have found this to be absolutely true. Any first draft just needs to get everything out of my head and onto the page. Then my job is to rewrite or revision to adjust the order of things. In this episode, in the later paragraphs, some such adjustments were made, as well as removing words and/or phrases that did not move the story forward. 

To Atone and To Forgive

A professional exterior hides many personal feelings. Dr. Jeremy Crawford had been walking around in this very uncomfortable emotional state for several days. Contacting the Social Work department about Mrs. Tyler’s apparent estrangement from any family and possible homelessness did ease his discomfort. But then there was Emelina. He had called her at 3 a.m. one morning on the strength of a photograph of a young girl. Emelina Eliot was the name on the back of the wrinkled and worn photograph. She got her sister, Dez, out of bed to accompany her on the vague mission to the hospital. Dez was not happy, but as she said, she would do anything for her sister. For Jeremy, it was all very, very unprofessional and, as her friend - as their friend - he had behaved very rudely. At least that’s what had been rolling around in his head. He had taken his three scheduled days off. The first day was a day of isolation from others, but he was able to get outside for walks and breathe fresh air. The next two days he had committed to talking with both Emelina and Dez. He called Dez first, not really knowing why. He just knew he wanted to talk with her first. After he ranted on while eating his supper, and then talking on the phone with Emelina, he thanked Dez profusely and left her 8th floor apartment at a run.

~~~~~

Jeremy had to stop long enough to wait for the elevator, walk through the first floor without looking like a man running from a crime scheme, get to his car, dig through his pockets for his keys, unlock the door, get in and sit down behind the steering wheel. He had been in such a rush that his keys seemed to pull his hand to his car’s ignition, but he stopped and dropped his forehead on the steering wheel. He rested for only a second then leaned back, pushing his head against the support. Aloud he said “What am I in such a rush about?!” He really needed to get all his guilt feelings off his chest and had dumped them on Dez. She was great. Just listened to him carry on and fed him supper at the same time. Now that he had actually stopped long enough to think, he felt his nervousness return. Emelina. He told her he would be right out to her Estate. “Enough, Dr. Crawford. You are better than this Nervous Nellie role you’re playing.” He started his car, pulled smoothly out of his parking spot and pointed his car toward the Estate.

Jeremy enjoyed the short drive out to Emelina's home. It was early evening, so the sun was just settling into the horizon for the night. Even the clouds were taking on a gilt edged mauve hue. Jeremy felt himself relax with each kilometre. As he pulled up the drive, he could see the lights on in the downstairs, but none upstairs. He drove around the back, parking at the kitchen door. Getting out of the car, he glanced around. All the staff must be gone for the day. I hope it’s Em in there.  He sent her a text to say he had arrived and he was coming in the kitchen door. It was a lovely evening. Maybe they could go for a walk before it got too cool.

“Em? It’s Jeremy. I’m coming in…..” Her answer did not come immediately. She sounded quite distracted. “Come in. I’m just reading Carrie’s latest letter. Coffee’s ready. Help yourself.”

Hello,

I’m not sure what to call you. Emelina or Mrs. Beaufort, so I just say hello. 

I am getting stronger. I'm sitting up in a chair to write this letter. I’m going to try to keep it short as I’m still tiring very easily.

The doctor told me today that I would not have to be moved to Intensive Care, that I am doing so well he may soon be able to discharge me. It's been suggested that I will have to go to a care home for recovery care. 

The nurse is here to get me back to bed so I will close and hope to hear from you soon.

Carrie

Emelina gave the letter to Jeremy. “Here, Jeremy, read this. What do you think? Is she ready for discharge so soon? Sit here.” Looking very thoughtful, Emmie stood and stretched her back, muttered something to herself and drained her coffee cup.

“Well, Em, I’m not sure. I’ve not spent a lot of time with her. As a matter of fact, I’ve done that on purpose.” Jeremy could feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck.

“Why?!” Emmie turned suddenly to face him. “Shouldn’t you be the doctor in charge? You were on duty when she was admitted, weren’t you? And why do you look like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about Em. I want to apologize for getting you involved in this woman’s life just because of a photo, and especially in the middle of the night. I don’t know why I expected that you would just come because I asked you. I should have contacted Social Work first. I am so sorry.” His words were spoken smoothly and without hesitation, as though they had just been waiting for permission to come alive. Emelina looked quite annoyed. “Well, I’m not sorry for becoming involved in Carrie’s life. That hour of the morning was really not of your choosing. Would anyone from Social Work have been available that hour?” Her voice softened, she sat by her good friend at the table putting her hand on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “So far, she and I are really more like pen pals. Now I have a favour to ask of you.” Putting his hand over hers, and leaning his head against hers, Jeremy said “For you, Em, absolutely anything.”

Emelina sat up, and turned toward him. “I need you to find out if and when Carrie might be discharged. Find out from the Social Worker if she has a place to go. You said when she came in she looked like she probably lived on the streets and that she said she ‘had no one’. If she does have a place to go then that’s wonderful. If she doesn’t, I have an extra bed here that is never used. If Social Work, and Carrie, think it’s appropriate, I’d like to have her here. But I need to know more about her, so I don’t run the risk of being taken in.”

Jeremy sighed with relief “Thank you Emelina. And I will do as as you ask. It may be a couple of days before I know anything but I can at least talk to the doc in charge of her care. Now, let’s go for a walk. It’s lovely evening.”

~~~~~

The two friends walked hand in hand along the running track. A half moon was just rising in the west. A long thin stretch of cloud drifted across the sky, its feathery tip lightly brushed the moon. “Jeremy?”          “What, Em?”     “Stay the night?”     “What will Cook think when she gets here in the morning?”       “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”   A distant hoot owl challenged the night.

“Nothing erases the past. There is repentance, there is atonement, 

and there is forgiveness. That is all, but that is enough.”

~ Ted Chiang, The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate

Chapter One, Episode 153 - Drama - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

There is a question I ask when I'm reading my reviews. “Are those words furthering the story?” This is an especially important question when a sentence feels disjointed in my mouth. My decision has to be to rearrange words, to remove words, or maybe get rid of the whole sentence. In fact, a phrase or sentence, may not only be unnecessary but may distract from the intent of the setting or story. With this in mind, rearranging and removal were the tasks of today's revision.

Drama

The phone rang. Her well used cell phone was face-up on the counter, dangerously close to a water filled pickle jar where two paint brushes soaked. One paint brush behind her ear, another clamped between her teeth, Dez lifted her brush from the canvas. She glanced at the offending noise. “Jeremy? What’s he calling me for?” Taking her brush out of her mouth and setting her paint filled palette in the midst of her cluttered counter, she wiped her hands on her colourfully stained apron. Punching the 'accept call' icon she answered the call. “Jeremy? Did you call a wrong number? This is Dez - not Emmie.”

~~~~

With cup of coffee in hand, Dr. Jeremy Crawford, decided to call Emmie’s sister, Dez. He knew he should have already called Emelina. Talked to her, apologized, said something but he was too embarrassed. He knew he was completely out of line the day - the night - that he called her. Asking her to come to the hospital to see his patient, Mrs. Tyler? Just because Em's name was on the back of an old photo? But this patient wasn’t expected to live through the night, she said she didn’t have anyone, and looked so lost, so alone……. “Dez, I need….I want to talk with you about my behaviour the other night. I should be talking to Emelina and I will, but you were there.”

Dez was confused. “Jeremy, how would that help? I don’t know what I could say. I don’t even know why you think talking to me would help, but if you want to come over here….have you had supper yet? I’ll just heat up a pizza and make some salad. You can talk and I can listen. Sound's like that’s all you need - some pizza and a sounding board.”

~~~~~

“You were right, Dez.” Jeremy took another slice of the pizza and more salad. “About them both - pizza and a sounding board. I haven’t been eating much of anything the last couple of days. My fridge is practically empty. I haven't even cared much about food.” Putting down his salad fork, he looked at Dez. “I really did mess up, didn’t I?” Abruptly he pushed his chair back and paced up and down the small kitchen. “Such a jackass! I shouldn’t have called her at that hour with such vague information about a woman I’d never seen before. All on the strength of that stupid photograph!”

“Slow down Jeremy, stop being so hard on yourself.” Dez listened to Jeremy’s little outburst with sympathy. “Maybe you messed up and maybe you didn’t. But what’s done is done. Did I think it was weird? Yes, but I’d do anything for my sister, so when she asked me to come with her, I did.” Dez recalled the concern in Emmie’s voice that night that urged her to get up. “I wasn’t exactly awake and eager to get out of my nice warm bed, but Emmie saved me from a predicament three months ago, so returning the favour was the least I could do.” 

~~~~~

Being with Dez, he felt strong enough to call her sister, embarrassed or not. After a short conversation with Emelina, Jeremy looked at Dez and ssaid he had to go. With a new found excitement and in a most unprofessional manner, Jeremy kissed Dez on each cheek, hugged her as she sat at the table, said “Thank you! Thank you.” He took a last bite of pizza and left Dez’s apartment. Still sitting at the table and stunned, she heard her door slam and Jeremy’s feet pounding down the hall. She stood, put their plates in the sink, the leftover pizza in the fridge for breakfast. Washing the tomato sauce from her hands, she picked up her brushes and went back to her painting.

“Never let somebody’s drama determine the outcome of your day.”

~ Terry Mark (unknown author of quote)

Chapter One, Episode 152 - Fitting - Situationally Theirs

Dandelion Chain
Painting by Ruth Van Egmond of Original Fine Art,
Victoria, B.C.

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

I've often thought that, although Dez started out this whole little saga, she has almost taken a back seat to her sister. In this Episode, curious about what seemed almost unfair, she spent the day in her own home. There was little to revise - some sentence structure, a misspelling corrected - but in general an interesting view into Dez's life.

Fitting

Desperanza Dawn Eliot was curious. There were a lot of things going on that could be the reason for her curiosity, but none of them had to do with her life. Emmie’s predicament about Carrie Tyler was only connected to her because they were related. James and Martha, good, good people newly married, because they worked for Emmie. Brigitte, another of Emmie’s employees, had vied with Dez for Martha’s home. Dez decided that her own apartment was her home, so she allowed any competition to fizzle out. Giles was just a likeable guy, always smiling and cheerful while he chauffeured her sister around and maintained the vehicles. Cook was just Cook. A nice person to be around, always taking care of everyone, she served up a good bowl of soup or a large slice of apple pie. Samuel. Samuel was a good man. He was full of wisdom and stories intertwined and sprinkled with the scent of newly turned soil and warmth of the sunshine. 

No, her curiosity was about where she fit in to this funny little community. She had questioned this before, then, distracted and busy with her work for Mr. Jorgensson or in the orchard on Emmie’s estate, she forgot it all. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she didn’t have to ‘fit in’ anywhere but her own home. The surprise for Dez was that she was calm and satisfied in the knowing. Confident, at ease. In her home, she could do what she enjoyed. When on the estate, although Emmie’s sister, she was also her employee as Project Manager of the orchard. A rather silly title, in Dez’s opinion, but one that granted her a sense of place and belonging. 

While Dez was doing all this ruminating and muddling, she had pulled out her canvases and paints from a store room that was really the pantry. She barely had enough jars of spaghetti sauce, boxes of pasta and cans of soup to fit on one shelf. It left a lot of space that she filled with whatever wouldn’t fit in her cupboards. No rhyme, reason or order for the pots and pans, innumerable personal drink containers and all her art supplies stacked higgelty piggelty, they patiently waiting for a day such as this. Propping up the mop and broom, she pushed the scrub pail out of her way to get to her easel. She set it up in her bright kitchen, filled a little container with water, got out her paints and as any good artist will tell you, stared at her blank canvas. With wild abandon, Dez took one of her largest brushes, filled it with ultramarine blue and painted a magnificent arc across the canvas. In an air of ‘ze great artiste!’ she chose another brush and another colour - brilliant fuchsia splashed across the canvas to outline the ultramarine blue. Mindful of her neighbours, she cranked up her stereo while she painted. Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson, Stevie Ray Vaughn all sang to her and with her.  

For a brief moment, paint brush in her teeth, pouring water into the tea kettle, Dez started to laugh out loud. The brush fell on the floor with splash of dandelion yellow. She left the tea kettle in the sink, turned and leaned back against the counter and just kept laughing. Dez was laughing at herself. Following her instinct to dive into the pantry for canvas and colour, without looking, she found it. Quite literally, at the end of each day, Desperanza Dawn Eliot fit in at home with her own messes. 

“Omigosh - I’m a squash!”

~ Dave Horowitz, The Ugly Pumpkin

Chapter One, Episode 151 - Just a Note - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Clarity, spelling, punctuation, sentence structure, wordiness. These are just of the few issues that are the mechanics of revision. Scattered throughout this episode, each of these areas have been attended to. My resource frequently is The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B.White for any of these issues. 

Just a Note

“I have my own anniversary today, Dez.” Her sister made the pronouncement with pride.

Gathering bouquets of wildflowers for vases upstairs and downstairs, Dez and Emelina had enjoyed being outside on the warm and lightly clouded day. A streak of blue dared show through as the sky-high winds drifted the puffs and stretches of gray, shafts of sunlight woven through like gold thread. “An anniversary? Today? Oh, I know……I think.......The afternoon of March 25, the same day I was becoming a hardened criminal and early that same morning you had to stand on your own two feet. Am I right?”

Emmie put her flowers in the wheelbarrow suggested to them. Samuel, the yard man, had wisely brought it to them, saying ‘if you’re goin’ to get that many flowers, best use this wheelbarrow.’ Gratefully the sisters put their harvest of wildflowers in it. “Dez don’t you think that’s enough? And you're right. I woke up that morning and expected to have Brigitte, in that silly little uniform I insisted she wear, bring my tea to me, brush my hair and put my makeup on. I rang my little bell over and over. How did I ever get to that state? At first I was angry that I was being so sadly neglected. I marched to my bedroom door and was about to fling it open, calling out my displeasure when I saw something had been slipped under my door.” She paused and called out to her sister. “If you don’t hurry, Dez, you’ll miss the wheelbarrow. I’m starting back up to the house now.”

Dez, neatly avoiding bees in the meadow, picked her last wildflower. She called out “Stop at the garden. Samuel has a couple of baskets of tomatoes for Cook. How did you manage without Brigitte putting you all together and bringing you tea? You never would have had anything ready and you would have had to actually go downstairs.” Emmie set the wheelbarrow by the garden and shaded her eyes looking for Samuel just as he came from behind the toolshed where he had been clearing out space for a new compost bin. She greeted him with a smile “Oh, there you are, Samuel. Dez said you have some tomatoes for Cook.” Catching up to Emmie, her sister set her flowers into the wheelbarrow and cleared space for two mid-sized baskets of ripe red tomatoes. “I actually managed quite nicely, Dez. Everyone had left me notes all over the kitchen. Cook left sandwiches in the fridge that she had also stocked with my preferred foods. I did drift most of the day trying to find everything, finding out how to work some of Cook’s gadgets and in the afternoon I cried my eyes out until I fell asleep.”

Samuel interrupted the two sisters “You two get on now. Tomatoes are gettin’ too warm now that they’re off the vines and them flowers need to get in water. If you’re goin’to cut 'em, then you best take care of 'em.” Samuel didn’t think much of cutting flowers but once it was done, it was done. He was also thinking of a delicious cold tomato sandwich with garden lettuce frilling from Elizabeth’s crusty homemade bread. The sisters glanced at each other, hearing a tiny edge to his voice. “Ok Samuel. we'll get all of this up to the house and take care of it.” He picked up his hoe and started carefully cleaning up weeds among the bigger plants, getting down on his knees for the remaining carrots and the climbing beans. 

Turning to the task at hand, Dez lifted the wheelbarrow and started toward the house. “Em, you mentioned notes. That reminds me. When I went back up to the house, Martha said there was a letter for you. It’s just a little one and it’s from the hospital. I didn’t recognize the handwriting. No reason that I should, I guess.”

Dez had barely parked the old green wheelbarrow outside the back door when her sister whisked up an armful of flowers and rushed into the house. Like a little girl on her birthday, she was excited. “Martha….. Do I have some mail?” Accepting the wildflowers thrust at her, while trying to turn the teakettle off, it was Cook who spoke “Martha and James have gone out for a bit. Martha told me to give you this.” It was a slim letter, so light that it didn’t even feel like there could be anything in it. Emelina sat down and carefully opened the envelope even though she wanted to rip it open. She really didn’t know who it was from, but felt like she did. One slip of paper fell out onto the table and slipped onto the floor. Leaning down, she picked it up. On a single piece of paper, in a very shaky hand, Emelina read the few lines......

Hello,

Thank you for the letters.

A volunteer comes in and reads them to me.

Hearing about the summer makes me smile.

Too weak to write any more,

Bye for now,

Carrie

Dez had brought the rest of their load into the house. Cook showed her where the spare vases were. Choosing one, she created a lovely bouquet for the kitchen table. The baskets of tomatoes were deposited on the cupboard beside the stove. While she was wiping her hands free of dirt, she looked up at her sister and noticed her wet eyes. “Emmie, here’s a tissue. Wipe your eyes and blow your nose.”

~~~~~

Carrie Tyler had indeed improved, but she was very weak. When the volunteer came, she brought with her a small writing pad, a pen and a stamped envelope. “Carrie are you sure you want to try this?” Carrie turned her pale face to her. “Yes, I need to try.”

“Let us be grateful to the people who are us happy; they are 

the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

~ Marcel Proust