Novel. The Old Funeral Home. Chapter Five. Part One.

 

Novel. The Old Funeral Home. 

Chapter Five. Part One.

 

The Beloved with our KIA, somewhere in the wilds of

Idaho. Monday.  April 4. 2022.  Her 65th birthday.

 

 

Last Sunday, as we took a stroll through the park, taking advantage of a

break in the miserable weather, I turned to my beloved to ask what

she wanted to do for her birthday.

"I want" she said decidedly "to drive up to Sun Valley to see my tree."

The back story is soon told. While working in accounts receivable at

Sun Valley she would go out to a Japanese birch tree in the courtyard

to tell it all her secrets and sorrows. Now she wanted to know if the tree

was still there. If it had kept her secrets.(The place that I lived and

worked in was one building. It was the Sun Valley Resort hospital

building built in the 1940’s. There were 4 wings to the hospital.

It was used for the whole community, not just Sun Valley Resort.

In the late 60’s it was converted to an apartment facility and housed

the seasonal employees. There were also 3 – or more – out buildings

and many trees. 

During the day in spring and summer and early fall I would go outside

at lunch and put my hand on the Japanese Birch tree planted just outside

the front door of where I worked. I felt connected to that tree. I saw a

face in the bark. Talking outloud was not a thing because there were

plenty of people around. I did feel a great deal though. I thought many

things and in my heart felt that God and the tree were hearing my humble

reachings.

 When I was nearing the end of my stay in Sun Valley all the employees

were informed that there was a plan to tear it down and use the space

for something else. True to their word they broke ground for new

apartments. 

I watched the two new apartment buildings be built. They were

very nice. Spacious, secure, nice amenities i.e. laundry rooms,

cafeteria/ commons areas, workout room, vending machines of all

sorts on all floors – 4 or 5 – and the bunk beds were mega beds

with three tiers, two to a room.) 

Six hours (seven hours of actual time) up there in the car. Six

(seven) hours back. Twelve hours in the car. Together. With her

driving. Since I don't drive anymore. (fourteen of total time. It included

stopping for vehicle fuel, leg stretching and other relief.)

Be proud of me, reader. Pat me on the back. Include me in your will.

For the instant she made her request I shot right back: 

"Of course! We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning!" ( I was happy

that he even said that so quickly! I asked him if he really meant it

because I know that it is not easy for him to endure riding in a car.

Driving would be worse. We have not as yet spoken about Tim’s

reticence to drive. He did get a driver’s license when our first child

was 3 months old. We were in Bottineau ND. He got a job at a radio

station KBTO there. The manager told him that he would get a

$100 a month raise if he got a driver’s license. A few hours driving

in the fields and back roads of Bottineau, plus a couple drives to church

– we drove to Minot 65 miles one way – and he passed his drivers test

pretty easily. Parallel parking hangs up most folks so it was no surprise

that he didn’t do so hot with that but otherwise he was fine.  The only

other hang up was his tailbone. You might wonder how we got to the

hospital for the birth of the baby. You might wonder about the remote

place to live and driving when I was obviously in a condition that scares

most people for driving. I just did it. Tim was supportive. Always

asking if it was convenient for me. Those queries became fuel for fire.

Nothing about being a mom is convenient. Nor is it comfortable.

Not easy. Often frustrating. Yet there is always a choice to endure

it well and smile and be nice anyway. Still sometimes it’s a challenge

to do so.

Our first child was born in Tioga Hospital. The doctor in Bottineau

did not advise travel with the baby being due the first part of May.

I wanted to visit my parents since we had not been to see them

since we moved to Bottineau from Provo in November 1980.

It was a 4 hour drive to Tioga from there. The first week of May

came and went. I had quit working at the hospital as a nurse-aid.

The second week of May showed no signs of movement for

the birthing process. The third week was the same. I asked the

doctor if we might have miscalculated the due date. He said the baby

was small and so we might have. When I let him know that I wanted

to travel to Tioga he said that he didn’t advise it – which I said before –

and that if I went that I should know how to get to the hospital.

My parent’s lived just down the hill from the hospital. So the long

car ride and a nice family gathering with music and dancing did the trick

. Madel was born on Memorial day that year. Tim got a day or so off work

because he did not work that weekend. My little brother, a Junior in HS

drove Tim back to work and stayed in Bottineau, scoping out the pool

situation for lifeguard work a month from then. They came back to get me

2 weeks later. Carey stayed with us for a couple months.)

The next morning we were getting gas at the Maverik station in

Brigham City by 8:30 a.m.

Gray sleet washed across the windshield as we talked the miles away.

"If you could live anywhere you wanted, where would it be?" I asked her.

"Omaha" was the prompt answer.

I wanted to reply 'Can anything good come out of Omaha?'

But instead I mildly asked her to enumerate her reasons for wanting

to reside in the midst of the Corn Belt.

The following is not quite verbatim, but it gives an accurate idea

of her response:

"I felt closer to the earth there. My sister Julie and I would

sunbathe every day. There are good park trails to walk on.

An hour a day I walked. Each day. They have a wonderful zoo.

I made good friends at church. The Winter Quarters Visitor's

Center is there. I really connected with my sister Julie. There's a temple

and a Family History Center. The streets are laid out for easy driving.

And they have a lot of organic markets!" 

We lunched at the Perkins in Burley. Fish & chips. Shrimp.

Nothing but water to drink. But two pieces of pie. 

My coccyx ached. My feet began to swell. A headache

was creeping up my scalp like an ant up my ankle. But bravely

I smiled as I said to my Beloved:  "You know, if I'm not careful

I may wind up enjoying this trip."

Sidebar:

I mentioned earlier that one of the clowns in the baker's gag

where I injured my coccyx was Dougie Ashton. From Australia.

He liked to douse my face with soap suds at the gag's blow off.

This would wash off most of my makeup. By the time I got it back

on I would be late for the next production number -- and be fined.

So one day when he shoved the suds into my face I finished the gag,

went back to clown alley, and put his makeup on instead of my own.

It only took a minute. He did a Chaplin. He never put a bubble on me

after that.

 

To continue. In Sun Valley we stopped at Zions Bank so my Beloved

could say hello to an old friend. But the lady in question had been

gone for two weeks. 

The Japanese birch was also gone, as were the buildings around it. 

(I was expecting “the big eye roll” but he was very nice. I was sad

and amazed at the condition of the open city block of grass and trees.

It was tastefully done so you did not know that the buildings and many

old trees had been there at all. If it had not been raining I would have

wanted to get out and walk on the grass and around where the building

had been. I would have gauged where the tree used to stand. I would

have gauged where the office was in which I worked. And where I stayed

in a small 12X12 room. Mapping out on the lawn where the wings were

to the old hospital was in my mind but I didn’t. As we drove past I pointed

at things. But I don’t think he looked. He said uh-huh. And I drove to the

end of the parking lot. The street wound around to the inlet coves for the

tennis courts and lodges for guest stays. At the end of the street was

the Sun Valley City Hall. Turning was the only option. A left turn would

have taken us to the golf course and where Clint Eastwood's home

is but when I asked Tim if he wanted to see it he said, “if you want to see

it go ahead. I really don’t care one way or the other.” I turned right and

we left town. Still closing my grief over the loss of the place I lived and

worked and loved, driving in that valley was painful. No one can see any

remnant of my life there. It’s as if it didn’t exist.

 To see my friend Jill would have been the nicest thing but the other

teller was kind and said she would tell Jill I had stopped.) 

So we drove to Twin Falls to have lamb curry with Amy's sister Kathy

and her husband Steve. At the Little India Restaurant. Our treat.

Then we drove home in the deepening gloom. The Beloved had me

read jokes to her and then put videos on her portable DVD player to keep

her awake. We arrived back in Provo at 10:35 p.m. Weary. Aching.

And triumphant. 

My Beloved said she had gotten closure. And I . . .  I had conquered

my fear and dread of long painful boring car rides. I had remained,

if not chirpy, at least calm and reasonable.

Or my name isn't William Shakespoon.