Tell me a Tale
Puck rummaged through his cache of library books this morning while rapping – quietly, go figure – more lyrics from Krispy Kreme: “I. Am. The baddest of them all.” In his robot shirt. With a spyglass. Usually, little boys are the best. I knew I was going to get one. I’m not sure I ever even entertained the idea of having a girl the first time around. Maybe I’m just not crimped out for floofy tutus, princess toothbrushes, and eighteen-dollar hair bows. Maybe I’m just A-OK with a kid who doesn’t care what he’s wearing, what he’s eating, or how his hair’s combed. All the same, if Colombia sends us a girl, I’ll be fine with that, too.
At eleven Gloria picked up our whole lot and drove us an hour, fifteen up north to Waters Furniture Store.
You see… the thing is about the Midwest… small towns are real. Sometimes I actually forget that pockets like Curryville, Missouri, Population: 225, exist. I don’t harbor ill will to these dots on the map – rather, they are appropriate for many reasons. Although I do have to wonder about the names. Curryville? India is probably the last place in this packed globe that comes to mind around this grub of farmland. Maybe they felt the need to dig out something exotic to remind them of other places. Although in 1866, I doubt any of these post-Civil War town founders had anything beyond surviving the next winter in mind.
But we passed on through Curryville and landed ourselves on a desolate street outside a five-warehouse crumbling-wall rain-stained ceiling creepy basement “do not enter” creaky-doored stash of quality Flexsteel furniture. Arranged around Polish glass vases and Reader’s Digest volumes, we tested out a tidy handful of red leather couches, napping gliders, wild patterns, and Amish craftsmanship. An hour passed quickly as Puck rummaged on spidery floors for passageways and tunnels.
While Gloria wrapped up some conversation in the office, the boys walked to the train tracks. I contemplated the heat of the street outside. Always half an ounce eerie out there. Abandoned barber, a florist, closed hobby shop, chiropractor. Lonely wind chimes scuttling the white Victorian house on the corner. Endless roads that go no place. And a whole lot of unmoving silence.
We hit the road back with treats from the bag of bananas, avocados, pepito seeds – no idea, sparkling water from the trunk, and running questions from Puck such as, “How far down is space, Mama?” But Curryville lured Gloria’s Mazda. Back across the beat-down ground, strips of water-telling trees like giant caterpillars monstrously grooming the plains in wraps of goldenrod.
Some sort of musical activity had called together members of the local Baptist church into an overalls-and-picnic-food huddle in the center of… someplace shy of the postage stamp police station/city hall and the four black cows and shetland pony. We took Puck to the Christian school playground, whose gym apparatus resembled more a 17th century machine of inquisition. We actually ended up hunting out interesting specimens of rocks and fossils behind the school – which must have been set up about 1930-something, a few shattered block windows and… bunk beds? on the second story… I could come up with all sorts of explanations for that one. All those dry green-yellow fields backing up the spit of a baseball diamond and the un-telling quiet of a small place up north.
On the ride back – gold, orange, and music-filled, Puck was getting a little tired.
“Mom, please let me call Sun. She can teleport us back home.”
We hit a grill back in Wentzville across from the tracks. Ribs, Hawai’ian flatbread, salad, and some pretty good yeast biscuit-rolls.
Chill for dessert where all the Cardinal red walked in and out stocking up on cold creamy things.
A harvest moon popped up over the outskirts of our great St. Louis, driving home.
Joe and Rose joined us later for another film at eight with Joe’s fine new $25 Bose-quality headphones, and laughed through Rose’s vintage poster coffee table book. She also brought a giant replacement glass bear mug for The Bear. He was very pleased.