This Week in
Havre, With Me and “Cupcake”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
This morning I walked into the
Grateful Bread and asked Rick if I could hog a table and sit a spell with my
computer, hoping to get inspiration for my article. Cinnamon rolls, hot out of
the oven made my mouth water. In the few minutes it took me to get my computer
and return, the rolls had disappeared. Does that say anything about how
inspirational are the cinnamon rolls at the Grateful Bread, warm from the oven,
drizzled with brown sugar.
But, hey, a cookie, generous with
butter and chocolate chips is equal to the job. Ask my mouth.
The wind blew me into Havre, where I
knew I could mooch on good friends, Dick and Jane. A few weeks ago we had a
scare when Dick suffered a stroke. Thanks to the VA doctors here, in Helena and
in Denver, with equal measures to Dick’s willingness to do the hard work of
therapy, he is recovering, getting stronger. This is not to slight Jane’s good
care. She and I have had conversations in the past where we agreed that neither
of us is nurse material. Jane is a saint in my eyes, despite her wee lie. She
is an excellent nurse. She disagrees. “I’m too impatient. I just do what’s in
front of me to do.”
Kris, at the High Plains Gallery and
Frame Shop in the Atrium, headed my long list of people to see. I first knew
Kris’s mother-in-law, Anne Shaw, founder of the Book Exchange. I felt
personally devastated when I learned the book store was closed. I wanted to
jump right in and take it over. Sadly, a book store will not flourish when open
only during summertime, especially if run by someone with her nose in a book,
reading all the merchandise before it hits the shelf. And having experienced
winter in sub-tropical climes, I would not flourish in another Montana winter.
I have a trunk full of great ideas that won’t work.
Kris hinted, rumor has it, maybe
(see how I hedge my bets), just maybe (hold your breath), some crazed book
lover (cross your fingers) may come forth to rescue the bookstore. Maybe a
co-op of local writers and readers. I cannot imagine Havre, nay, the whole of
north-central Montana, without a book store.
Yesterday, after missing him at his
office six times, I finally saw Clay Vincent on the street. Clay is Hill County
Sanitarian, a job which covers a lot of territory. “Clay, you’re on my list of
people to see. I really miss the Unified Landfill Board meetings.”
“If you miss those meetings,” Clay
replied, “you must be crazy.” Surely he didn’t mean it, me crazy? Ah, well,
maybe so. Define the term.
Of all my jobs when I was on City
Council in Harlem, I liked Landfill Board best. The board is composed mostly of
men who have to get back into the field to tend crops or watch clouds. Meetings
are no nonsense. If a new truck is needed, those men understand. They compare
specs and make a decision. Things get done.
I popped up the stairway for a brief
visit with Paul Tuss at Bear Paw Development. Paul asked, “Didn’t I see you
driving a van painted like, uh, like . . .”
“A cupcake, “I suggested. “That was
me.”
Driving a van which looks like a
cupcake makes me anything but anonymous. At times I feel notorious. Strangers
grin, wave and outright laugh at me. My intention was to paint a basket weave
design to cover my obsolete business logo. My design sort of got out of hand,
took off on its own. But it looks bright and cheerful. If you missed me, I’ll
be back in August.
Wherever I went this week, I
serendipitously found friends and acquaintances. Post office. Bank. The Glass
Works for chip repair. The Amtrak office to buy a ticket for this summer. The
Havre Daily for a good visit with Pam. A long awaited luncheon, promised for
months, with John Kelleher, for stimulating conversation. He brought me up to
date on regional happenings.
Why is it that when one leaves and
returns, the only thing important is time spent with friends?
Next week I’ll be back in Mexico,
basking in the sun, finally thawing my cold bones. I’ll see familiar faces in
my neighborhood, acquaintances. Some of them may become friends eventually.
Friends take time. Friends make my life rich. See you later this summer, my
friend. Meanwhile, I’ll write.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
April 24,
2014
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment