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H'Na Goes to School by Delinda McCann

11/16/2021

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I held up the two pieces of covering the convent had sent for us to put on for school. I’d put on the shorts once before so I’d figured them out, but sorting my head and arms into the shirt was harder. Once the shirt covered my head, I couldn’t see what I was doing or where I my arms went. I put an arm through the neck hole, then tried to get my big head through the hole for the arm. I pulled it off and tried to put my arms in the arm holes, then pull it over my head. I got my head through the right hole, but the rest of the shirt bunched up around my arms and nose. On the third try, I was sweating with exertion, but got the shirt on so it covered my bare body.
I’ve never worn covering or been to school before. I’m not ignorant. I can count goats on the hillside and tell the time of night by the stars. I know which plants will draw the poison out of a festered wound, and which will cause a goat to miscarry. My mama and grandmama are the local healers, and I learned lots from them, but I don’t know how to read and write. I don’t know the common language used outside the mountains. I plan on learning all that today.
Once covered, I showed myself to Mama. “Where did Uncle C’Tis get all those grandchildren that built the school?
Mama answered, “I don’t know. He said something about LooCee gathering them.”
Grandmama sat on the floor picking leaves from their stems and putting them in a basket to dry. “I remember when I helped LooCee and Young C’Tis into this world, but I don’t know where the others came from.” She looked up at me. “All we know is that they’re all educated, and they’ve built a school. This is a great thing for you. ”
Mama gave me a hug. “Grandmama and I will ride the next van down the mountain.” She glanced at her mama on the floor. “We’ll have a class too. Uncle C’Tis will tell us about his adventures in the outside world. Now, off you go.”
I went outside to meet my friend N’Ra and her brothers and sisters on the path in front of our house.
Her little sister greeted me. “Look H’Na, I have a dress. It looks like the sky.”
N’Ra lifted her youngest sister higher on her hip. “The dress is blue. A’Ln told me the sky is blue. Your dress is blue. A’Ln says you will learn the names of all the colors.”
I started to sweat again. Until last week when Shaman gave us lessons on outsider ways and their language, I’d thought everything was just the way it was. I didn’t know things were described by how they look. Color is an outsider idea. Now, did I need to learn the names for the colors? Why did colors have names, anyway? Did the sky and the dress have souls? 
H’Ree, N’Ra’s littlest brother who could walk, tugged on the bottom of N’Ra’s covering—shorts and a shirt like mine. “I don’t want to go to the convent. You won’t let them take me to the convent, will you?”
N’Ra brushed the hair out of her brother’s face with her free hand. “You won’t have to go to a convent. A’Ln told me that they built the school in the mountains so children won’t have to go away like LooCee did.” She sighed like she always did when she mentioned A’Ln.
I narrowed my eyes at N’Ra. “You talked to A’Ln a long time. Did you even notice his brother, U’Kee? He looks like a big mountain man, like in the stories of the old days.” I grinned. N’Ra and I wouldn’t have to marry T’Vun. We had lots of men to choose from. LooCee’s brothers were good to look at, and they knew how to do things with machines, and they could read and write. I sighed. U’Kee was my idea of the perfect man. He laughed and helped his sisters. Once when they came home to plant their crops, he gave me a second piece of cake. He carried it right to me on a plate and sat beside me while I ate.
N’Ra nodded. “I met U’Kee. He won’t live here much because he still has to go to school in the city. A’Ln said he finished all his school. He even has a piece of paper with writing on it that says he finished school. Did you know LooCee has more brothers we haven’t seen? She says one is in the army and another works in the city and goes to school with her.” She skipped a couple steps. 
The morning sun broke over the top of the mountain, and I lifted my face to the warmth. Life was glorious. The air smelled sweet with only a hint of goat. The sun was warm. I was on my way to school, and I’d never have to marry T’Vun, the only unmarried man in the village. 
I said, “Did you hear that Papa T’Vun asked Uncle C’Tis for LooCee to marry T’Vun? And Grandmama actually laughed when she told mama this…Uncle C’Tis said he couldn’t have her.” I spun in a circle with glee. 
N’Ra counted her brothers and sisters to make sure they were keeping up with us. “I heard T’Vun wants Martha now.”
I gloated over my own news. “Martha told me she’s going to be a healer. She wants to learn what Grandmama knows. Martha said she won’t marry for years and years yet, if ever.”
We slipped through the pass that marked the end of our valley and prepared to climb inside the noisy van LooCee’s family used when they went outside the mountains. N’Ra lifted her sisters up the high step from the ground to the van. She turned to lift H’Ree, but he balked and started to cry.
Young Hosh patted his brother on the head. “Oh, be quiet. This is fun. A’Ln is showing me how to drive it. He told me that in the city, Young C’Tis learned to drive and got a job driving all sorts of vans, and he can fix them if they break.”
H’Ree hung back, eyeing the van. “Is it going to break?”
Mama Hosh caught up to her children. “It will be fine. The outsiders ride in these machines all the time, and I’ll be with you. LooCee can drive, and she’s teaching Nicole to drive too.”
I looked behind me for Mama and Grandmama. Were they coming yet? Grandmama wanted to learn how the outside healer made Young C’Tis’s daughter well. I smiled at Grandmama’s excitement over the school. She’d met outsiders before the big flood and told me all she remembered. 
Faster than I could believe, we rode down the mountain and stopped in front of the new stone schoolhouse. It was as big as a mountain. Once, before the C’Tis family came home from the city this last time, N’Ra, Young Hosh and I snuck down here and explored the school building. It had rooms at the ground level and more rooms upstairs that were right in the middle of the sky. The building had windows. When we saw them, the windows were just holes in the wall. Now, the workers had covered them with glass. Glass was another new word for me. It was clear as water but harder than ice. The morning sun made the glass shine like our spring when the water was still.
I stared around me. I’d never seen so many people in one place before. There were people from my village and LooCee’s family and people named Gilbert from a family lower down the mountain. There were outsiders and mountain people I’d never seen. Shaman told us the vans would bring people who lived farther back in the mountains to the school. The people made more noise than a herd of goats, and they smelled worse. I followed the crowd, trying not to breathe. The smell made my throat hurt.
Uncle C’Tis stood beside the path leading to the school doors. “H’Na, welcome to my school.” He actually spoke to me and remembered my name.
I almost forgot my manners in my excitement, but I remembered to say, “Thank you Uncle C’Tis. I’m excited to be here.” I tried to brush the tears off of my cheeks. “I’ve never been this happy before in my whole life.”
“You’re a good girl.” Uncle C’Tis praised me. Nobody had ever called me a good girl before. I skipped into the building and stared at the high ceiling. Even a big mountain man, like LooCee’s brother U’Kee, couldn’t touch that ceiling. 
Pia touched my elbow. “Come this way. Your first class will be in the big room.” 
I followed her to the big room. It was big. All of our house could fit in this one room with space left over for the goat sheds. People milled and talked. I watched A’Ln leading people to chairs. He seated the older women near the front as is proper. He passed younger children to his brothers and sisters. “Here, take H’Lee to the nursery class.” 
I felt my eyes grow wide at the idea that even the youngest children would have a class. Would they learn to read and write before I did? 
A’Ln passed the girls N’Ra held to Teacher Therese and said to N’Ra, “You can sit in this row of chairs. I’ll sit behind you.” 
I smiled. N’Ra and I were the same. I could sit with her. That would be proper. 
For our first class, Uncle C’Tis talked to us about learning and how important it was and about all the things he learned the year he lived outside with LooCee. “I learned to read and write in the common language. All of my children helped me learn. I also had lessons to learn how to use electricity to light the house. This afternoon my grandson, C’Tis, will turn on the generator that makes electricity and show you a movie of where we lived and of LooCee’s school, called Capital University.”
For my next class, Martha took most of the children and younger people up the stairs to a room to give us our first lesson in the common language and reading and writing. I learned that in the common language, my name would be pronounced Hannah. I loved the sound of my name. Hannah didn’t sound like a little girl who cleaned goat pens and carried water. Hannah sounded important. 
When school let out, the elders rode the first van back up the mountain. Children too small to walk up the mountain rode with them or in the next van. Young Hosh grabbed me by the arm. “Hey, we’ll get home sooner if we walk. Come on.”
Mr. A’Kee held H’Ree in his arms. “Good idea, Hosh. After sitting all day, the climb will make you feel better. I’ll make sure the little ones get home safely.” 
He bounced H’Ree on his hip, then looked right at me and N’Ra and smiled. “I hope you two can come spend some nights with my girls. They want to learn more of your native language.” 
We nodded and turned to race up the mountain. Once we were high enough that nobody could hear us, I paused. “Young Hosh, I don’t understand about Mr. A’Kee. LooCee and C’Tis call him Papa, but I know Papa C’Tis was LooCee’s papa, but he died. Why do they call Mr. A’Kee Papa?”
Young Hosh grinned at me. “I asked Dau that question. He said that when he was tiny his papa and mama died just like LooCee’s mama and papa died. He said lots of people died and whole villages of children didn’t have papas and mamas, so some people who didn’t have children, took them as their own. A’Kee and U’Nice took LooCee and Martha and Dau and all the others.”
I thought my head would explode. “I didn’t know outsiders were like that— taking care of children and stuff. I thought they were…well…stupid and cruel and would run off and leave their babies behind like Young C’Tis’s wife.”
N’Ra said, “A’Ln told me that some people do leave their children or beat them, but that’s rare. He says most people are like A’Kee and want to take care of children. He says outsiders aren’t clumsy or cruel and that people are the same everywhere.” 
We arrived at the pass just as the van with the little children stopped at the turn-around. Mrs. T’vun was there to gather her two little children. Young Hosh took his younger brother on his hip and N’Ra took her two younger sisters. Mrs. T’Vun said, “H’Na, help me with my little ones. T’Kee is such a big boy I can’t carry him and his sister.”
I wanted to tell Mrs. T’Vun to make her spoiled boy walk, but I wanted to be a nice person like LooCee and her sisters. I remembered how A’Ln and Dau helped with the little children and wondered where Young T’Vun was. Instead of talking back, I picked up the little girl, then took the Hoshs’ youngest, H’Lee. 
When H’Lee was born, Grandmama had asked me to help her. I felt like H’Lee was part mine because I’d handed Grandmama cloths and herbs while she checked the baby’s progress.
Both of the children in my arms held a piece of paper with colored marks on it. I was surprised that the teachers let the babies hold a colorer. I scowled. “What is the word for the colored things for making pictures?”
H’Ree answered. “Crayon. I had a black crayon and a green crayon and a brown crayon. See, I made demon’s heads on my paper.”
I grinned at H’Ree’s picture of the ugly little thorns that got stuck in bare feet and goats mouths if we weren’t carful. How nice it would be to have shoes and never get a thorn stuck in my foot. “Those do look just like demon’s heads.” 
The other children held up their papers for me to see. T’Kee said, “I drew goats.” His paper held a big goat surrounded by three baby goats. Yes, he would draw a picture of triplets. The T’Vun goats dropped more triplets than anybody else’s.
I set T’Ka on the ground at the T’Vun’s gate and followed N’Ra and Young Hosh down the path to their house. 
Once home, I had to hurry to fetch water, then pat bean flour and milk into cakes for our dinner. Mama had to hustle to tend the goats while Grandmama fussed in her garden. When we all sat down on the floor to eat, all we could talk about was school. 
Mama said, “U’Nice told me she’d teach me to drive the van. I don’t know about that. It goes so fast, I’m not sure it’s natural.” She tapped Papa on the wrist. “And don’t think you’ve missed all the excitement. Tomorrow, the van will take everybody who didn’t see the movie today down the mountain to see it. And Uncle C’Tis can read and write. Isn’t that amazing?”
Grandmama interrupted Mama. “Miss Martha wants me to teach the outside students about plants. She says they need to know which ones they can eat and which ones are poison. I’m going to be a teacher—imagine that.”
Mama interrupted Grandmama. “Uncle C’Tis invited H’Na to visit his granddaughters. She’s going to teach them our language. She and N’Ra are to spend the night with his girls sometimes.”
Mama took a breath, so Papa got a chance to speak. “H’Na is needed at home. Who will fetch the water if she stays at school all the time? We need her to tend the baby goats.”
Grandmama slapped the floor beside her. “H’Na is going to learn outsider ways. She’s going to learn how the outsiders made C’Tis’s baby well when I thought she’d die. H’Na is going to go to school like Young LooCee does. We are T’Niks. A member of the T’Nik family will not do less than any of the C’Tis family. If that means she stays with the girls at school, she’ll stay with the girls at school. You can carry the water and tend the baby goats.” She glared at Papa. 
My head spun. I was going to learn outsider ways? I was going to go to school away from home? I would leave everything and everybody I knew? The last of my bean cake turned to dust in my mouth. “Papa, I’ll carry water before I go to bed tonight, then I’ll put the baby goats away. If I keep up with my chores while I’m here, there won’t be much for you to do when I stay at school.”
I stood and grabbed an empty bucket waiting by the door. I almost ran to the spring. I didn’t want to hear any more talk about sending me away to school. I’d seen a picture of LooCee’s school in the city. It was huge. Staying with Martha and Nicole would be fun, but going to that huge school in the city was unthinkable. I carried my bucket of water up to the goat pen and poured it in their pool. 
Tears flowed down my cheeks. I didn’t know what to think. Why had Papa been so eager to marry me off to T’Vun, but now he said I had too many chores to stay at school? Mama always said she needed me at home, and now she smiled and nodded when Grandmama said I’d go to LooCee’s school. I sniffed and wiped my nose on my bare arm and looked at the goats. They needed more than one bucket of water, so I picked up my bucket and went back to the spring. 
Young T’Vun was sitting beside the spring. He deigned to speak to me. “What are you doing out so late?” 
I rolled my eyes at him. Keeping the spring between us, I answered, “Fetching water for the goats. I need to do my chores at night so I can go to school during the day.”
“I’m not going back to any school where they let girls teach.” T’Vun stuck out his lower lip.
I smiled. T’Vun wouldn’t be at school. “It’s probably more important for you to stay home and help your papa.” I backed away, hoping T’Vun wouldn’t try to follow me. 
It was dark by the time I emptied the second bucket of water into the goat’s pool. I could see well enough by starlight. I should get more water for the house, but T’Vun might still be at the spring. I went home. 
When I came through the door, Mama said, “That’s enough chores for tonight, H’Na. The teachers told us that you would need to go to bed early because learning is hard work, and you’ll need all the sleep you can get.”
I nodded. “Is that why I feel so tired? I learned so much today, I’m ready to burst.” I scowled. “Maybe T’Vun doesn’t want to go to school because it made him tired.” 
Grandmama answered from her place on the rug in front of the fire. “T’Vun doesn’t want to go to school because Young C’Tis scolded him for not wanting to have Miss Martha for a teacher.” Grandmama chuckled. “I don’t think Miss Martha is going to marry T’Vun despite what he thinks.” 
Mama snorted. “He’ll have trouble finding a wife among those outsider women. Their men work hard and are kind.” Mama glanced at Papa, then turned to her mama. “Did you see how A’Ln made the little Hosh boys laugh?”
I went to my bed behind the fireplace with my head spinning so much I could barely stand. I sank down on my goat skin and cradled my head on my arm. Ideas still churned in my brain. I tried to sort out all I’d learned. Words like crayons jostled for attention with ideas like spending the night with Martha and Nicole. Hannah was my outsider name. Martha said it was a good name. T’Vun wouldn’t be at school. Good. I reached out and touched my school clothes laying on the floor beside me. I wasn’t going to marry T’Vun. I was going to go to school like the outsiders do. I smiled remembering H’Ree’s picture of the demon’s heads. There was so much to learn at school. 
Papa’s voice drifted to me on the night air. “I’ll fill the water buckets.” 
I felt his footsteps vibrate through the floor. 
Papa. I always thought Papa made the rules in our family. Grandmama is respected because she’s the healer, but I thought Papa made the rules. Tonight, Grandmama had made the rules and papa obeyed. My eyes drifted closed. Grandmama made the rule. There was lots to learn at school, but just maybe, there was enough to learn in my own home if I just kept my eyes open. 



To learn more about Hannah's school and how Grandpapa C'Tis got all those grandchildren Read Lucy Goes Home. https://www.amazon.com/Lucy-Goes-Home-Sewer-Book-ebook/dp/B07JYKKSF1/ref



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The Alien  By Delinda McCann

11/4/2021

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PictureH'Na's home is beyond the farthest ridge. These are the border mountains in Mesa Province as seen from the nearest village.
I hate goats, especially baby goats that jump off of rocks and twist their legs. I’d been sent up to the goat pen to hand feed one that couldn’t stand up to feed from his mama. The stupid creature in my arms butted my wrist once again, knocking the flask and nipple I was using to feed him out of my hand. My wrist was bruised and hurting from his stupid butting. When I reached for the flask, he struggled to free himself from my lap. His hooves scratched and tore at my bare legs and stomach, causing a streak of red blood to rise across my stomach. Great, now I’d have to treat that, or it would fester. 

I picked up the flask and held the nipple near his mouth. “Listen, you stupid thing, we’re going to eat you if you don’t learn how to feed, and I hate young meat.” I scowled at the goat in my lap. Could I find an old goat skin or something to cover myself, so the goats didn’t hurt me when I had to take care of them? The dairy woman had a skirt she wore to protect herself from the goats.

I curled my lip, still feeling grumpy, as the nasty beast in my lap finally began to suckle. I’d been cross in the house, so I got sent up to the goat enclosure to feed this stupid animal. Anyway, I’d had good reason to be angry. Papa was trying to get rid of me.

Grandmama is the local healer. She’d been called out to tend to one of the Hosh children who had a cough. They all always had coughs or injuries—all ten of them. 

Mama was in the high pasture delivering triplets. Why was it that the T’Vuns’ goats dropped triplets? They already had more goats than the rest of the village put together. 

Anyway, Papa told me to fetch the water, then grind the beans, then take some cheese to Mama T’Vun. That was when I blew up. “I already fetched the water. The buckets are full. The beans are ground, and I won’t go near the T’Vun house because I will not marry Young T’Vun. I’d rather marry Young C’Tis even if he has nothing. He’s ten times better than Young T’Vun.” 

I’d never really marry Young C’Tis. That family wasn’t lucky and they were very poor, which is what made my threat so insulting to the wealthy T’Vun family.

Papa didn’t try to remind me that Young C’Tis had a woman. Everybody knew she’d left and wasn’t coming back, leaving him with a new baby to care for. Papa said, “H’Na, go get the injured goat and give him some fresh milk from the big crock.”

I stomped off. Why was my papa so eager to get rid of me? Mrs. T’Vun had asked for me to live with them twice since I became a woman, but Mama had put her off saying I was needed at home. Mama didn’t want me to leave. It was Papa.

The goat in my arms fell asleep. Baby goats aren’t so bad when they’re sleeping. I laid him on a bed of fresh straw and stood. Blood still trickled from the cut on my stomach. I’d need to clean it and stop the bleeding, or the cut would fester. 

Movement at the pass caught my eye. Perhaps Young C’Tis was coming for milk for his baby. I watched. No. The grey head of Old C’Tis emerged around the rock. I scowled. Old C’Tis had wrapped a bit of goat skin around his hips. Was he injured? Did I need to fetch Grandmama? I didn’t see signs of blood, and he had been able to climb the mountain. Maybe he just had a bit of pain in his joints and thought that would help. Old people had funny ideas like if you wrapped your legs in goat skin you could run and jump like a goat. I knew that was nonsense. I’d let Grandmama finish her work at the Hoshs’ house. 

Needing to tend my cut, I made my way into Grandmama’s herb garden. I’d need something to stop the bleeding, then something to hold the sides of the cut together. A row of tall plants Grandmama used for digestive troubles blocked most of my view of the path.

As I found the leaves I wanted, I saw Old C’Tis pause and hold back a branch. I thought maybe he had someone with him, but no, from what I could see through the leaves of a willow, it was a strange creature—perhaps a new breed of goat? I held the cleansing leaves to my wound as I bent down to pick the lichen that would stop the bleeding. I could see the lower half of the thing with C’Tis. It walked on two legs like a person, but its hind feet were black. The hooves had no toes. The legs were long and blue. The thing had a black stripe around its middle. I tilted my head trying to make sense of what I saw, then my burning skin drew my attention back to my wound. 

I wanted to follow and look at the thing with Old C’Tis, but my cut demanded immediate attention. 
As I walked back to our house all I could see of the strange thing was the top of its head. It stood taller than Old C’Tis. The top of its head was mottled blue. I really wanted to touch its skin, but that would be rude. I saw Papa and Old T’Vun working in the fields. They pretended not to see Old C’Tis with his strange creature. I wondered if looking at something belonging to Old C’Tis would bring bad luck. He’d been very unlucky. 

I pondered the nature of luck as I returned to the house. Why did everything Old C’Tis touched die, while the T’Vuns’ goats dropped healthy triplets? Luck wasn’t very fair. It wasn’t fair that I got hurt obeying my papa, and taking care of a helpless creature. It wasn’t fair that Young C’Tis’s wife left him. She’d been from outside the mountains, and Grandmama said that happens with people from outside. They’re different from us.

I glanced out the front door toward the path. Old C’Tis must be going to the dairy woman for milk. Maybe he intended to trade his strange creature for milk for the baby. If they made a trade, then I could sneak into the dairy woman’s shed and touch this thing. 

I finally got most of my bleeding stopped, then poked through grandmama’s supplies to find some sap to hold the sides of the cut together. The sticky stuff from the scrubnut bush helped to protect a cut, but it was sticky. By tomorrow, I’d have a line of seeds, goat hair, dirt, and leaves across my stomach. I’d have to clean the wound again. Grandmama insisted that wounds must be kept clean.

Once I had my skin glued back together, I decided I’d go looking for Grandma at the Hoshs’ house. The oldest Hosh girl, N’Ra, was my age. We were friends, or rather comrades, in our resistance to marrying Young T’Vun. With so many children in their family, something exciting was always happening at the Hoshs’ house.

I broke into a run, arriving at the door of the Hoshs’ house just as Grandmama was putting her medicines back in her bag. “Grandmama, I’ve finished all my chores. Is there something else you want me to do?”

Grandmama glanced sideways at me. “Why don’t you stay here and help N’Ra. Her mama has enough to do to take care of Young Hosh.”

I gave Grandmama a hug. She knew I wanted to visit with N’Ra. I sat beside my friend and took the bowl of beans she was grinding into flour from her hands. “You’re lucky to get to grind beans. I had to feed a baby goat. Look how he bruised my arm, and he cut me open with his hoof.” I displayed my bruise and cut for N’Ra’s inspection. Her younger sisters crowded close and ooohed and ahhhed over my injuries. I smiled at the two little girls.

I waited until Mama Hosh went outside before I brought up the subject that piqued my curiosity. “Did you see Old C’Tis today?”

“No. I went up the creek to pick leaves for my brother. Did he come to clean the dairy woman’s barn?”

The two little girls crowded close and interrupted each other to tell me their story. “We saw him.” The older one grabbed my bruised arm for attention.

“We saw him.” The younger one echoed. I remembered when she was born and was somewhat surprised she could talk so well at her age. 

She said, “He had a pet bird with him.” 

The older sister who was less than a year older said, “No, it wasn’t a bird, it was a goat.”

“No. Bird.”

“It was huge.” They said together.

N’Ra sat beside me and molded bean flour and water into cakes to be fried for their dinner. I tried to add what I knew to the story. “I was in the herb garden and didn’t get a good look at it, but I saw its feet. They were black and it didn’t have toes or claws.”

The little girls sat on the floor and watched out the doorway. The younger said, “It was a pretty bird.”

The older got in her sister’s face. “I heard it. It sounded almost like a person, but I couldn’t make out any words.”

I decided to tell them a story. “Once a big grey and green bird had a nest in a tree in our upper pasture. I swear that thing sounded just like my Mama calling me, “H’Na, H’Na.” I’d go home only to find everybody out working and Mama hadn’t called me. The bird was a trickster. Maybe this bird is a trickster. Such a strange looking thing must be full of tricks.”

Screams and cries prevented me from telling another story about tricksters. I set the beans down and followed N’RA to the door. The little girls had bolted ahead of us and ran down the path to meet their brothers. H’Kun and H’Ka were half carrying H’Ree who was kicking and screaming his head off worse than a baby goat. 

N’Ra and I ran to meet the boys. H’Kun shouted the problem to us. “He stepped on some Demon’s Heads.”

Their mama came behind me. “How many times have I told you not to take the little ones into the upper pasture where those things grow? His feet are too tender for stepping on those things.”

H’Ka explained. “We didn’t. These were in the lower pasture, right by the gate.”

N’Ra took her younger brother in her arms, and he quieted down enough that we could hear Papa Hosh. “You boys, go get a digging stick and get those thorns out of that pasture. Be sure to get all the root.”

I looked up from examining H’Ree’s foot. “Bring me the roots. I’ll take them home to Grandmama. We can use them for wounds that fester.” I looked back at the injured foot. “I think I can get these out, so we won’t have to bother Grandmama.”

N’Ra carried her crying brother into their house, putting him down on the floor close to the fire. 

I held the foot with the savage thorns in it in my lap. “The trick to getting these out is to unscrew them. They’re barbed so pulling them straight out just makes them cling tighter.” I set to work. To distract H’Ree I asked, “Did you see the big bird Old C’Tis had with him?”

He wiggled with excitement, causing me to drop his foot. He was as squirmy as a baby goat. “It wasn’t a bird. It was a demon. It was all red in the face, and it tricked the dairy woman out of two pitchers of milk.”

N’Ra held her brother’s foot still while I worked. I asked, “Why do you think it was a demon?”

H’Ree said, “Its face was red. Its skin was blue, and it tricked the dairy woman.”

I smiled. “Yes. I guessed it was a trickster, but that doesn’t make it a demon.”

N’Ra’s mama returned, scolding over her shoulder at her oldest son. “I don’t care if you’ve stopped coughing for now. You hold that cup under your nose and breathe that steam until it stops steaming, then I’ll heat it up until it steams again.” She shook her head, then looked at us. “How many thorns did he pick up? I swear those things spring up overnight.”

I answered, “I got one out. This one is almost out, and I see two more. Grandmama has something to rub on the foot to stop the pain.

Papa Hosh came to the door and interrupted us. “Well, we have news. Old C’Tis’s granddaughter has returned from a convent—whatever that is. He brought her up here, and she gave the dairy woman a blessed wrist band so she’ll have good fortune.”

The gorge rose up in my throat, remembering the strange creature with Old C’Tis. Was that thing really his granddaughter? “What happened to her that she looked so deformed? She doesn’t have toes, and her feet are black like they were burned.” I thought about the charred remains of the C’Tis house. Had this girl been inside when the fire started?

Mrs Hosh shook her head. “I’ve been so busy with Young Hosh. He could hardly breathe. I only got a brief look at her.”

H’Ree finally forgot about the pain in his foot. “I saw her face. It was red like tree bark at sunrise.”

Mr. Hosh said from the door, “Aye, I saw her too. Walked with her head down and kept her face hidden, she did.” He looked at N’Ra and myself. “You two be nice to her no matter what horrible thing happened to her and no matter what she looks like. Getting his girl back is the first decent thing that has happened to Old C’Tis since the fever came.”
 
I waited until N’Ra’s parents went out again then leaned closer to her. “Maybe we can get T’Vun to marry her.”

N’Ra snorted. “Seems like she’s had enough trouble in this world without being burdened with T’Vun.”

“You’re kinder than I am. Still, I think this is a sign that things are going to change. Maybe neither of us will have to marry T’Vun.”

“I hope so.”

That night I went to bed full of excitement that things were changing. 

The night sky was filled with light and smoke from the flames consuming the C’Tis house. Standing outside the house, I heard the the cries of a baby. I watched Papa C’Tis, who looked just like Young C’Tis, run into the flames then emerge covered in fire himself. He fell at my feet dropping the bundle he carried. The baby’s feet were burned and blackened. I watched as the toes fell off, being nothing more than ash. The baby’s face was burned fire red. Old C’Tis pushed me aside and grabbed up the baby, wrapping it in a goat skin. “I’ll take her to the convent.” He ran down the mountain.

 Grandmama said. “It is a sign. Change is coming.”

I woke up covered in sweat and sick to my stomach from my dream. I could smell smoke. Papa came in from outside. “The goats are safely locked up for the night.”

Mama answered, “The wild dogs sounded closer than usual. Should we build up our fire?”

Grandmama said. “No need to waste fuel. They may be high up in the mountains, but their cries are carrying down the valleys.” She was silent, then opened the door to look outside. “Aye, when the wild dogs cry like that it’s a sign that change is coming.”

The next morning, I saw Young Hosh with N’RA carrying buckets to fetch water from the spring. He never helped her carry water, so I knew something was happening. I grabbed our buckets. One still had some water, so I sloshed that over the front step to wash down the dust and met the others at the trail. 

Young Hosh had a plan. “I figure that if we hurry with our chores, we can sneak out and go down to the big rock above Old C’Tis’s place and get a look at that strange girl.”

The plan sounded good to me. “If we all go to the pass together, we’ll get caught.” I looked at Young Hosh. “Why don’t you take the water to the workers in the fields then meet us at the pass?”

N’Ra volunteered. “Papa’s been nagging me for days to take some wool over to the T’Vun house. I can drop that off and meet you at the pass from there.”

My part of the plan was the weakest. “I guess I can take our goat with the sore leg for a walk on the trail. He follows me everywhere now. I’ll just walk on the trail and stop to check his leg every so often.”

The plan almost worked. Young Hosh made it to the pass without anybody noticing him. N’Ra delivered the wool. I made a good show of giving the baby goat water at the spring and feeling his leg. I started toward the pass again and the goat followed, bleating his lungs out. “Hush you stupid animal. Go to your mama.”

The animal wasn’t going to his mama and he wouldn’t be quiet. I tried giving him some scrubnut leaves to shut him up. He ate them then let out a bleat and danced down the path in front of me. I made a show of following the animal and trying to examine his leg. Everybody could see me, but they ignored me.

The T’Vun family owned the land right up to the pass, which made it slightly more dangerous reaching our goal. I didn’t like being so close to anywhere Young T’Vun might find me—not that he acted any more eager to marry me than I was to marry him.

N’Ra and Young Hosh were waiting for me when I reached the pass. We slipped around the big rock and ran smack into Young T’Vun.

I let out a squeak and tried to hide behind Young Hosh.

T’Vun ignored me. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be outside the village.”

I thought quickly and rolled my eyes. “Grandmama sent us to look for more leaves for Hosh’s cough. He has to have some every day.”

Young T’Vun said, “You’re lying. You’re trying to look at Old C’Tis’s granddaughter. I’m telling papa.”

Hosh narrowed his eyes at T’Vun. “What? Is that what you’re doing here? You don’t have any business here, and we do. H’Na is the healer’s daughter, so she’s helping us find the leaves I need for my cough, and N’Ra is supposed to carry them home. We have a good reason to be here, but you don’t.”

I nodded and echoed Hosh’s words. “Grandmama, cough, leaves.”

N’Ra picked at a scab on her hip. “I was gathering leaves yesterday and didn’t see LooCee. What does she look like?”

T’Vun opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he pushed past us. “I’m telling papa that you’re here.”

I shrugged and looked toward the spring where the creek that fed C’Tis’s land was hidden by weeds. The baby goat that had followed me had already discovered the fresh greens growing by the water and was nibbling away. I pointed. “There. If we look there, we might find some of the right kind of leaves.”

T’Vun pushed past us calling, “Papa, H’Na, N’Ra and Young Hosh are trying to sneak down to Old C’Tis’s house to look at his granddaughter.”

The three of us dashed for the spring and were innocently sorting through the weeds when Papa T’Vun found us. “All of you, go home. This is Old C’Tis’s land and you’ll get sick just being here. It’s unlucky. Bad spirits hide in this place.”

Defeated, we turned toward home. I shrugged. “I’ll tell Grandmama we didn’t find any leaves.”

N’Ra kept to our story. “The ground here isn’t as wet as it was where I was picking yesterday. Maybe that plant needs wet ground.”

Papa T’Vun followed each of us to our houses. He told Grandmama. “I caught H’Na outside the pass. She and that Hosh girl were trying to see Old C’Tis’s granddaughter.”

I countered, “N’Ra thought maybe there would be leaves for Young Hosh’s cough near the spring there. We were looking for leaves.”

Grandmama skewered me with her eyes. “They don’t grow there this time of year. You’ll have to wait until after the rains come, then we’ll trade some cheese for the leaves. Now, go put that goat in the pen with his mama, then I want you to card some wool.”

I didn’t hate carding wool as much as I hated feeding baby goats.

Finally, after two days of burning curiosity about the new girl, the Shaman called a village meeting. Our meeting place was a circle of stones set in the hillside above the spring. On our way to the meeting, I tried to beg Papa to ask the questions I wanted answered. “Ask him about Old C’Tis’s granddaughter. Has she been in a fire? Why are her feet black? Why doesn’t she have toes? Why is her face so red? What is wrong with her skin that it’s blue?”

Papa kept walking without saying anything to me.

The shaman sat at the most important place in the meeting circle. Old T’Vun sat beside the shaman. My grandmother as the healer was the only woman given a rock in the circle. The other women sat behind their husbands or fathers. I was lucky because my mama sat behind her mama right next to the shaman. I sat right behind Papa. I was closer to the shaman than Young T’Vun who sat behind his papa sitting behind Old T’Vun.

The shaman opened the meeting by asking the wind for wisdom, then he rang his bell. When he finished his ritual, the elders, including my papa, responded by shaking their wooden clackers. 

Finally, the shaman got down to business. “I visited my friend, Old C’Tis, today. His granddaughter, LooCee has returned to the convent, promising to return. She took the baby with her. The baby will be cared for. Young C’Tis grieves for his child, but LooCee, gave him coins to travel to the city to visit her and the baby. After the harvest, if she hasn’t returned with the baby, I’ll show Young C’Tis how to find his sister and child. This is good. It’s time for the young people to learn about the outside world. C’Tis will be the first to visit outside in two generations.”  He droned on about the outside world and about C’Tis having been out once before to find LooCee in her convent. I wiggled my toes. Maybe I could see the outside world. What would it be like? With my luck, it would be filled with goats everywhere.

Grandmama told me the fever that killed the C’Tis family came from outside the mountains. I had visions of dead people laying beside the paths and the village littered with houses that had been burned like the C’Tis house had been to get rid of the fever. 

When the shaman finally finished telling us how good it would be for the young people to know about the outside world, my stupid papa sat with his head bowed and didn’t ask any of the questions I’d asked him. I found N’Ra’s eyes then rolled my eyes toward Young T’Vun. If we were to see the outside world, maybe neither of us would have to marry that stupid boy.

N’Ra knew my thoughts. She glanced toward T’Vun then up at the evening sky in agreement. We were not going to marry Young T’Vun.

N’Ra leaned around her mother and poked her papa.

Old Hosh shook his wooden clacker, indicating that he wanted to speak. “About Old C’Tis’s granddaughter. We saw her when she came to our village. It would help the young people to be kind to her if they knew how she got hurt.”

The shaman leaned forward. “Hurt?”

Old Hosh nodded. “Her feet have been burned. She doesn’t have toes. Her skin is blue and grey as if she were dead, and her face is all red.”

The shaman chewed on his lower lip. Sitting as close to him as I was, I could see his eyes crinkled at the corners as if something tickled him. “This is a good time to learn about covering. After the big flood, I lived outside of the mountains for a few years and learned the ways of people outside. There, people cover their bodies with cloth and leather. I was taught that this helps stop the spread of fevers. I wore covering. It protected my skin when I might have gotten a cut, so I didn’t get festers.” He glanced at my grandmama. 

Grandmama bowed her head in agreement with his words. Had she ever been outside? Did she know outsider ways?

The shaman took up his lesson again. “Where many people live close together, they don’t know who belongs to whom. They cover their bodies to show which family they belong to. Also, in a convent, the nuns, as they are called, are very careful about covering. They wear only black robes. LooCee covers much like the nuns, but she doesn’t wear black, and her covering shows the shape of her legs. This tells us she is not a nun.”

Old Hosh might be the poorest man in our village, but he might be the best papa. He asked, “Why was her face so red? Does she cover her face too?”

The shaman ran his hand over his mouth and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Young LooCee has most probably never seen a man uncovered before. Old C’Tis and Young C’Tis were told she couldn’t come see them if they didn’t cover their loins the whole time she was here. If she was red in the face, it was because she felt uncomfortable about seeing a man uncovered. The important lesson is that if we are to have contact with the outside world, we must respect their customs and religion.” The shaman stopped smiling and grew very stern. “We must never come between others and their spiritual practices. Covering is a spiritual practice in the outside world.”

Hosh furrowed his brow. “But if LooCee comes to live with her grandpapa, will we have to set a watch at the pass to tell us when to cover?”

The shaman held up his bell. “In our own homes and in our own village, we may live as we always have. When we go where the outsiders live, we will do as they do and cover.” He rang his bell. The elders shook their clackers.

I smiled at my toes and wondered if covering my feet like LooCee did would keep them from hurting so much when the stupid goats stepped on me. How could I cover my feet?

Old T’Vun shook his clacker to speak. He sat up straight. “When we go outside our valley, my family will cover.” He turned to his daughter in-law. “My daughter has a robe that came from the outside. She will cover with that when she meets outsiders.”

Mrs T’Vun tilted her head this way and that toward the circle of villagers. A smirk covered her face.

My lip curled. I would never live in the same house as that woman. Someday, I’d travel outside the mountains, seeing new things and when I covered, I’d find something better than Mrs T’Vuns old robe. I glanced at N’Ra. She smiled back at me. We’d have adventures together and learn new stuff. I hoped LooCee would be our friend. 



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LooCee, or Lucy as she's called by outsiders, saw H'Na that day. To hear this story from Lucy's perspective, pick up a copy of Lucy Goes Home.  https://www.amazon.com/Lucy-Goes-Home-Sewer-Book-ebook/dp/B07JYKKSF1/ 

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The Multiverse is Gaslighting Me                                    by Delinda McCann

10/24/2021

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The problem started when we moved into our new house. It’s probably important to note that we built this house. It sits at the edge of acres of woods. Nobody has lived or died here since at least 1850 when the native population was moved to Fox Island.


For scientific purposes, I should also note that I live on an island in the Puget Sound, or using the native name, the Salish Sea. The island is accessible only by boat or small plane. We have tectonic faults in the earth’s crust all through this area. The house itself sits at the edge of acres and acres of forest.


Our island has had at least two well-documented unusual phenomena. The Maury Island Incident that inspired the flying saucer frenzy and the term Men In Black occurred less than five miles from my house. https://www.mauryislandincident.com The Vashon Hum was so loud it would wake me up at two in the morning. https://www.seattlepi.com/local/sound/article/What-exactly-is-the-Vashon-Hum-891697.php 


When our spoons started going missing, I was mildly annoyed about losing spoons. Was Hubby accidentally putting them in the trash while clearing the table? I watched for the spoons feeling slightly disoriented. 


My irritation turned to curiosity when I was putting away silverware from the dishwasher. I had too many forks. I purchased the tableware in packages of six place settings per package, buying two sets. I should have twelve forks, twelve spoons and twelve knives. I had five spoons and fourteen forks. All of the forks were of the same pattern. I counted and recounted, even comparing the names on the back. They’re the same but they shouldn’t be here.


I continued to dismiss the problem as having a perfectly rational explanation. My fork collection grew to eighteen forks. Also, I now had fourteen knives and three spoons. Okay, I started to get a little spooked. Feeling disoriented, I made up a story about a vortex in the woods outside our fence. That is, I tell myself I made up the story. We’ve been pretending to laugh about the vortex for years. Thinking about the phenomenon is confusing to the point where I feel like I’m floating or dissociating.


Occasionally, things have gone missing, then reappeared right in the spot where they belonged. We tried to dismiss the disappearances through rational explanations. Had we loaned our daughter or the neighbor that tool, and they put it away in the right place when they returned it? This was a plausible and comforting thought until we fact-checked by asking our daughter if she’d just returned the post-hole digger. Nope. She hadn’t borrowed it. Checking in with the neighbor wasn’t any more comforting. No. He hadn’t used it for a couple years. I gave the post-hole digger the side-eye and felt anxiety creeping around me.


Once, when Hubby had a broken leg, I hired a worker to help him with some chores. I was puttering around when the worker came to me and asked where Hubby was. He had a question and couldn’t find him. I was slightly alarmed that perhaps Hubby had fallen and couldn’t get up. The two of us dropped everything and started searching. We searched for Hubby for fifteen minutes. Finally, I found him hobbling around the end of the house. I asked where he’d been. He had no idea that over fifteen minutes had passed since he left the garage. He insisted that he’d only been walking from the garage to the garden shed—a short trek that would leave him in full view of us, but would take him along the outer edge of the vortex. I shuddered. Surely, had he fallen, we would have found him. I worried about Hubby’s health for several years, but we haven’t had another incident of him disappearing—at least not for a full fifteen minutes.


I don’t know if the stories I write fit into this strange phenomenon or not. Being basically a scientist, I’d never written fiction until after we moved in here. First, I started to have daydreams about people and places. The daydreams grew so vivid I decided to write them down and see if I could make a coherent story out of the fantasies. I know that the people living in my head aren’t part of our reality, but I have no control over them or what they do. When I type The End at the end of their story, they seem happy, then continue on with their lives. I can mentally drop in on them at any time and find them going about their daily chores the same as any of my neighbors go about their daily chores. Using my imagination, I can’t make them do anything different from what they’re doing. Jake has returned to his own home at this time, and I can’t make him go back to Canada. He just laughs and assures me they’ll visit his in-laws next summer. (Note for those who know Jake: He’s teaching law at the university and training interns in the prosecutor’s office. He loves both jobs.)


Of course, eventually, I began to question my perceptions of reality. It’s all fun and games to talk about a vortex in the woods until things just don’t make sense. Everybody loses silverware, but extra matching pieces appearing out of nowhere just isn’t right. The proper thing for me to do at this point was to do a reality check. I started asking people for their opinions on what was happening with the silverware. Some people visited my woods and said they definitely felt an unusual energy there. They agree it’s a positive and healing force. Some people have insisted there must be a logical explanation, but they don’t know what it is. Other people have directed me to various folk stories, paranormal theories and spiritual beliefs. These folks make as much sense as those who dismiss the phenomenon as having an unknown logical explanation. I’ve gained some sense of peace in knowing that people have long talked about forces beyond our ability to measure. Still, I’m wary around the edges of the vortex.


Today has been a perfect example of my problem. Several weeks ago, I decided to set up the light I use for SAD in the winter. I went out to the sunroom to get it. I couldn’t find it in the cabinet where I thought I put it. I searched the whole house, garage, and sunroom. I couldn’t find it. Hubby searched the whole house, sunroom and garage. Our daughter joined the search. We’ve all searched the cupboards in the sunroom where the light is supposed to be stored. Yesterday, I searched again. I opened the low cupboard and got down on my hands and knees to look inside. It was mostly empty except for some vases and plastic cups. I looked at the plastic cups and thought I could use them to hold flowers at my farm stand. I neglected to close the doors tightly, thinking I’d have to get into the cupboard soon to get the cups. 


Today, I had room in the dishwasher to wash those plastic cups, so I went out to the sunroom to get them. I swung open the cupboard door. There in plain view was the light we’d been searching for for weeks. I only found one of the plastic cups I’d gone out to  get. I set the one cup aside to get to my light and bring it in. I set the light on the table where it belongs in the winter and went out to get the cups to wash. The cups were not in the cupboard. Even the cup I’d just handled was nowhere to be found. I’m delighted to have the very expensive light back, but where in the multiverse are the cups that were in that cupboard yesterday?  The Vortex.

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Ugly Uzara By Delinda McCann

6/6/2020

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Alice Uzara really wanted to cry. Today had been hellish. At work at the International Importer’s Association, Tosh E’Kun had started the crude jokes. “I move that we import some young blond-haired prostitutes—prostitution’s the only industry that thrives during an economic crash.”

A Papadakos said, “Not blond. I want some Asian girls, only they have to have tits. A guy likes tits to hang on to so he don’t fall off.”

Alice cleared her throat. 

The Vanderholm steward looked her up and down as if she didn’t have any clothes on. “Oh, I forgot there was a woman in the room.”

Mr. Soyet looked around. “A woman? Oh. You mean Alice.” He turned his back on her. 

Ugly Uzara, that inner image that reminded Alice what others thought of her, laughed raucously. “They forgot you are a woman.” She laughed again and produced a memory of a dozen pretty little girls giggling and taunting her with cries of Ugly Uzara before they ran and hid. 

Alice knew from long experience that responding to the taunts would only make things worse. She glanced at her notebook. “If I’m going to take a proposal for relief to the legislature, I’ll need more details than you’ve given me. I can get you a tax break on the stored goods you can’t sell. Do you need loans for outstanding bills that you can’t pay because you can’t sell your inventory? Is that a concern?”

“I don’t see how you think this new government is going to do anything for us. They’re as broke as everybody else.” Soyet sneered, making Alice feel stupid. 

Ugly looked over Alice’s shoulder. “Nobody listens to you.”

Now at home again, Alice wrapped a belt around the middle of her brown and white dress and glanced at the clock. She had a few minutes before Papa would scold her for being late to dinner. She checked her appearance in the mirror. 

Ugly Uzara looked back at her and said, “You don’t have any curves unless you count the one in your nose. It’s no wonder the men at work made jokes about you. It’s all ugly girls deserve.” 

Alice tossed her head and replied, “At least, I look respectable and tidy.” 

For a reply, Ugly Uzara produced an image of Caroline Rouseff, the prettiest girl in the university, with her lush dark curly hair and petite curvy body. Caroline always looked respectable, tidy and beautiful. Rumor had it that she was practically engaged to U’Kee McKinsey or would be if her family had their way. Alice swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about U’Kee with Caroline. U’Kee had been her idea of the perfect man ever since the first time he asked her to dance. He was big enough to make her feel small and dainty. He was funny, polite and an excellent dancer.
 
Her phone rang, startling her. She picked it up without looking at the caller ID. “Alice Uzara.”

“Alice? Henry Fortenac here. I called to congratulate you on graduating first in our department.”

Alice instantly grew wary. Was this some sort of trick? This was the first time a man had ever called her on the phone. No. She’d known Henry all her life. He didn’t play tricks. He’d occasionally spoke to her at university—mostly to ask her for help on his schoolwork. She wanted to return the compliment. “I saw in the paper that you finished next to me. You must have really cruised through your orals.” Alice collapsed to the floor. That didn’t sound the way she meant.

“Orals went okay. Say, the reason I called was to see if you’d like to go out to dinner and celebrate graduating with me. We could find someplace nice and go dancing afterward.”

Alice floated up to the ceiling. For the first time in her life, a young man was asking her out on a date. “Sounds lovely. When do you want to go?”

“Tonight. I can take the seven o’clock train down, and you can pick me up from the station at seven-thirty. You can choose someplace with dancing.”

“Tonight?” She looked at her notebooks from work. She’d planned to go over Papa’s books to see if she could find specific information she could use in the relief package. Her heart hit the floor with a thud. “I can’t tonight. I have to go to work early in the morning, and Mama’s been sick. She still needs my help at dinner, but I’d love to go out when I don’t have to work in the morning.”

“You have a job so soon, in this economy?”

“I’m working as a lobbyist-advocate for the International Importers Association, trying to put together a relief package. What are you doing?”

“Me? Oh, uh. I’ve been working on the family books. The cousin who’s been managing the estate is really too old and too sick for the job. I’m trying to untangle the records.”

“That sounds like a lot of thankless work.”

“Yeah, it is. But you, you got a job with the IIA. That’s impressive.”

“Thanks. I have to go now, or I’ll be late for dinner, but I’d love to go celebrate when we’re both free.”

“That’s a date, then.” 

Alice floated out her bedroom door, discarding her infatuation with U’Kee McKinsey who’d asked her to dance a half-dozen times at social events. Well, maybe she wouldn’t completely give up on U’Kee. He was possibly the only man in the country big enough to make her feel petite, despite her being nearly one and three quarters meters tall. 

On her way down the marble stairs to the first floor of the ancestral home, Alice thought about Henry. Suddenly, Henry Fortenac became the most eligible bachelor in the country despite the fact that she’d known him all her life, and he was shorter than her and not truly handsome. 

By the time Alice reached the doors to the main salon where the family waited for the butler to lead them into the dining room for dinner, Henry Fortenac had developed so much charm and wit that even he might be surprised to learn of his accomplishments. 

Papa greeted Alice at the door to the salon. “You’re late.”

She glanced at the grandfather clock in the far corner. “Not very. I had a phone call.” She crossed the room to where her mama slumped on the sofa and kissed her forehead. “You look lovely. I’m sure you must be feeling a bit better.”

“I’m so weak, I can hardly move, and my arms ache.”

“Remember, the doctor said removing the lymph nodes would cause your arms to swell. They have good reason to ache, but really you look much less puffy. I’m sure you’re recovering.” Alice felt slightly thankful that her own appearance had been more of a pain than a pleasure to her. She’d never know the suffering Mama now endured with her loss of looks and important feminine body parts.

Mama picked at the blanket over her lap. “Who were you on the phone with?”

Alice almost shivered with delicious delight. She scanned the room to see who else might hear her answer. She tried to calm herself. “Oh, Henry Fortenac called to congratulate me on graduating at the top of our department. He and I were the top two graduates in poly-sci, so we’re planning on a dinner-date to celebrate.”

Papa turned his attention to his oldest child. “How are the Fortenacs? I thought they might be having money trouble, too.”

Alice furrowed her brow. “Henry did say he’s going over the family books because their steward is too old for the job.”

Papa nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in more financial trouble than we are.” Thus ended the news that Alice had been asked out on a date for the first time in her twenty-two years. 

Alice began to worry about when she’d hear from Henry again. He didn’t call the next day. She’d just arrived in the main salon to sit beside Mama and wait for dinner when her phone pinged with an email. She pulled the phone from her pocket. 

From across the room, Papa said, “If that’s the IIA, put it away.”

Alice tried to appear calm. She looked up. “It’s Henry. He’s moved back to the capital.” She read more. “Oh! He’s taken a job with president Yablonski and is working with Representative Spencer. “ Her heart sank. “We may have to postpone our dinner-date.”

Mama sat up straighter beside Alice and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “Yesterday, Henry called you and asked you out. Today he’s emailing you. I had no idea you and Henry had become such good friends. When did this happen?”

Alice’s shrugged. “Henry and I’ve always gotten along. When we were young, he was mostly interested in boy-stuff, but he was always kind. We took a lot of the same classes at university and did some projects together.” She buried her attention in typing a short reply to Henry’s email. Congratulations on your new job. Maybe I’ll see you when I’m in the capital. - Alice.

Papa crossed the room and hovered near Alice. “So the heir to the Fortenac fortune got home from university and spent a couple weeks going over the family accounts, then he bolted back to the capital to take two jobs. I’d guess the mighty Fortenacs are as hard-hit with this crash as we are.” He put his hands in his pockets, rocked forward on his toes and chuckled.

Alice looked up at her papa. “They still own a quarter of this country. Henry says he’ll be visiting all their properties.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d ever get her dinner-date.

Papa actually patted Alice on the shoulder. “I suspect he’s going to have to work hard to get that empire under control. Be patient, dear. He might not have much time for courting.”

Alice wanted to run out of the room and hide so she could contemplate her Papa’s understanding of her relationship. It was exactly the impression she’d hoped to inspire, but she and Henry still had never had a date.

Ugly Uzara turned Alice’s gut to a stone. “Henry never thinks about you, and anyway, he’s probably a drunk hanging around with Carl all the time. You know Carl showed up for class drunk more often than not.”

Alice said. “But Henry wasn’t drunk in class and he did his work.”

Ugly answered, “Ha, ha, ha. How would you know if Henry was drunk or not? You don’t know anything about men.”

Alice wanted to kick Ugly, but Mama was struggling to stand, so Alice jumped to her feet feeling guilty for not helping Mama sooner. She put her arm around Mama, helping her to walk to the dining room.

Henry didn’t call or send an email for a week. Papa asked every day if she’d heard from him, then assured her he was probably very busy. At the end of the week, Alice rapped on the door to Papa’s study, then entered with a couple notebooks in her arms. “I’ve outlined what I think the IIA needs for a relief package from the government.” She passed him a notebook. “I want to take my proposal to the capital next week. I wrote to Uncle Mash, and they invited me to stay with them while I’m there.”

Papa looked over the top of the papers Alice had handed him. “You’re awful eager to get to the capital. This wouldn’t have anything to do with Henry would it?”

Alice looked her papa in the eye. Without smiling, she said, “Yes, it does. He works for Spencer who should be on board with this.”

“Alice, it would help the greater good if you could flirt with him a little. Talk to your mama about being more girlish.”

“More girlish.” Ugly Uzara giggled in Alice’s ear. “It would help if you had tits.”

Alice wanted to grind her teeth and get out of this house. “I’ll manage my own relationship. At this point,” she waved her proposal at her Papa. “I think I’ll need to spend more time in the capital than I will here.”

“Yes, yes. Go hang out with your young man, but no hanky panky.”

“Henry has always been a perfect gentleman.” She was really irritated with Papa for the girlish remark so she added, “Besides, he lives in the Compound with guards all over the place, and I’ll be with Uncle Mash. I haven’t figured out how to manage hanky panky, yet.” She left the room.

Sunday evening, Mama was the one to ask at dinner. “Alice, what do you hear from Henry?”

Relieved to have an answer, she didn’t mention that his emails had gone to sixty other people too. “His sister Cordelia was badly injured in a fall and is in the hospital in Sylvana.”

Mama looked up. “Should I send the family a card? Is it serious enough that I should send something? We aren’t friends, but as one mother to another…”

Papa settled the matter. “Their son is writing to our daughter almost daily. You better send flowers.”
Alice broke into a sweat at her parents’ assumptions. Still, she wasn’t about to tell them that she barely knew Henry. 

Monday morning, Alice took the train to the capital. She tried to remind herself that she was going on business to give legislators her proposal and answer questions about the state of the import business. She really hoped to see Henry. Maybe they’d even have their dinner-date. She bit her lip and worried that he might be in Sylvana with his sister.

From her reflection in the window, Ugly Uzara asked, “And just what do you plan to do about the difference between your parents’ expectations and the probability that Henry has forgotten about you? How did you let the lie get so out of hand? Your mama sent flowers to the Fortenacs, and your papa wrote a note almost as if you two were engaged. What will the Fortenacs think of you for putting yourself forward like that?”

Once in the capital, the morning grew challenging. Alice knew that she was only admitted to see the representatives because of her family name. Representative D’Hun bluntly said, “You come in here asking for relief for the richest people in the country. What I want to know is what you have to offer this country.”

Alice didn’t like confrontation, and this man clearly sounded angry; however, she hadn’t graduated at the top of her department because she came from a powerful family. She’d earned her grades and knew her job. “That’s a fair question, sir. I know it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, but the importers do care about the rest of the country. We’re talking about the most efficient way to import and distribute food across all the provinces despite our own financial limits. We want to keep vital goods flowing. We’re working with the rail system and local governments to see that food, clothing and medical supplies are distributed fairly without price gouging further down in the supply chain.” 

Ugly Uzara hung her head and opened her mouth to apologize for not doing more. 

Alice wanted to slap Ugly. Instead she looked up. “I didn’t elaborate on our efforts partially because I assumed they were obvious to anybody in power. I am well aware of the efforts my fellow students have made to serve this country and do not want to appear ungrateful to them, so I chose to focus on our needs rather than our contributions. Do you feel I should list all we’ve done to assist in this time? I can add a substantial list, but that would be against my principles, and may sound as if I don’t appreciate the contributions of other businesses. We’re all in this together.”

“No, no, Miss. You’re quite right. It wouldn’t be appropriate in your proposal, but you will need to be prepared to answer that question. Not everybody sees…”

Alice was shaking when she left D’Hun’s office, so she decided to give up calling on representatives and see if Henry was in Spencer’s office. She found the right office and knocked on the doorjamb. Suddenly, the whole world lit up. 

Henry jumped up from his desk and rushed forward to lead her to a small sofa, then sat beside her. “What brings you to the capital?”

She explained her work while Henry actually appeared to listen to her. Feeling bolder, she added, “You still owe me a dinner.”

“I do. Are you free tonight?”

It actually sounded like Henry was eager to go to dinner with her. They made arrangements to meet outside the museum in the Government Compound. She’d never had a date before and suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say. She started to stand. “I should get more of these proposals delivered.”

“Let me see it.” Henry held out his hand. “Better give me several copies. I’ll see Spencer gets one, and I’ll give copies to anybody I think needs one. I know some people.”

Alice felt slightly dizzy. 

Ugly Uzara almost kicked Alice in the shins. “Who do you think you are? Getting all dressed up in a business suit and putting your hair up—making dates and arguing with representatives? It won’t take people long to figure out what you really are.”  

Alice waved to Henry as she left Spencer’s office, still feeling disoriented. I’ve pretended and excused and exaggerated so long, I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. How could Ugly Uzara be a lobbyist dating Henry Fortenac? 

The voice of Ugly Uzara reared her ugly head in the back of Alice’s mind. “Henry’s not all that smart, and he’s not good looking like U’Kee, and he’s probably a drunk. Nobody else would date him. You’re all that’s left.” 

Alice scowled and stomped her way out of the legislative office building, telling Ugly Uzara, shut-up, just shut-up. Henry will suit my purposes just fine. I’m going to Sharif’s to buy a new dress. 

***
When Alice entered the taxi to take her to the Compound, she still wavered between thinking she was out of her mind and telling herself there was nothing peculiar about going to dinner with someone she’d known all her life. 

Ugly had been quiet and sulking ever since Alice defied her and bought a red dress with a full skirt that swirled around her legs. 

Alice’s parents hadn’t helped with her sense of reality. Mama sounded ready to start planning the wedding. She called for the fourth time that day just as Alice’s taxi pulled into the courtyard at the Compound. “Mama, I’m at the Compound now, I’ll call you as soon as I get home if it isn’t too late. He didn’t say anything about dancing, so I might get home early. It’s Monday, after all, and we both have to work in the morning.”

Guards opened the doors to the middle wing of the huge government building as Alice climbed the stairs. Henry rushed forward to greet her. “There you are. Wow, you look stunning. Red’s a good color on you.” He took her hand. 

He called me stunning and complimented my dress! Alice forgot where she was and didn’t hear another word for a full five minutes.

Henry nattered on, oblivious to Alice’s distraction. “It’s good to have someone from school here. I was going crazy isolated in the country, and everybody has left the capital. Come, I’ll show you around.” He introduced her to an older woman then headed in another direction. “The library is seldom open to the public, but it’s my favorite room for working.” He continued to chatter about the construction and history of the government building as he led her down a wide hall and through two glass double doors.

Alice finally narrowed her eyes at Henry. He’d said something about being isolated in the country. Was he lonely? Why would he be lonely? He had friends everywhere. However, if he’s lonely that can work to my advantage. What else had he said?

Henry led Alice through several rooms, then out onto the terrace facing the river and down through the gardens.They came in through a back door that led to a utility area, then up some stairs and into a red and gold salon. “We’re in the oldest wing of the Compound. This was the formal reception room for the colonial governors.” 

Alice looked at the gold cherubs on the ceiling. “I’ve never seen the older parts of this place before. It’s really a bit of history. I wish we could have seen this when we were kids. It would have made all that stuff about the governors more real.”

Henry shrugged. “We need to move on if we’re to be on time for dinner.”

“Where are we going?”

Henry bowed before her. “Why Miss Alice Uzara, lobbyist for the IIA, you need to meet the president of the country, and the best place to do that is at dinner in the Compound.”

Alice wanted to shake her head. Was Henry suggesting he was taking her to dinner with the president? 

He held out his arm to lead her away. They crossed the courtyard and entered the double doors to the presidential wing. He introduced her to the Chief of Staff. 

Alice felt slightly dizzy and clung to Henry as the only solid thing in her world. She tried to pull herself out of her fantasy, but it seemed that she really was on a date with Henry Fortenac, and he really was leading her around the Grand Salon at the government compound, introducing her to staff and government officials. He presented her to the president and first lady and their children. She felt on firmer ground with the children. Henry chatted with them easily, and she soon felt comfortable enough to ask about their dog and stroke the big animal’s soft ears. 

Henry led Alice into the dining room. Once seated, the conversation became general, then the first lady said, “Alice, I heard your mama has had cancer. How is she?”

“She’s doing okay. The doctor says they think the cancer is gone.”

The president picked up the discussion. “I’m glad she was able to get treatment. While I’m in office, I hope I can focus on building modern medical facilities. It’ll be a battle though, people can’t grasp the idea that access to good healthcare is part of economic stability.” 

Alice felt touched that people had cared enough to ask about her mama. She listened as the president and first lady encouraged Henry to bring his younger cousins for a visit to the Compound. Their son, Tony, added his invitation. “Yes, please bring them. All our friends have left the city and there’s nothing to do.”

Soon the younger son, Joseph, asked a question that tickled Alice’s imagination.

“Papa, which animal would you choose in a battle, a dragon or a gryphon?”

The president put down his fork and considered the question. “I guess I’d choose a dragon.”

Intrigued, Alice asked Joseph, “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m a dungeon master. Do you know what that is?”

Alice grinned and leaned toward Joseph. “I guess, I’m the High Priestess Zephora.”

The dinner guests fell into a spirited discussion of the merits of dragons vs. gryphons. Alice found herself disagreeing with the president, but the Chief of Compound Security backed up her arguments. 

The Chief of Staff seemed fond of dragons. “We really need a dragon or two to guard our dungeons here.” 

Alice and the president’s daughter Sophia giggled.

The president chuckled, then changed the subject. “So Alice, tell us what this proposal you’re promoting is all about.”

Alice ran through her talking points. “We’ll get back on our feet again, of course, but right now we’re trying to buy and deliver food and essential supplies for the whole country while we’re short on money. I’ve found several places where tax deferments or loans would help us continue to operate.” 

The president nodded. “Henry gave me a copy of the proposal. I do see your point. My job is to make certain that all importers would have access to the benefits and be treated equally. I’ll send copies to the border provinces.”

Alice looked at her lap, confused. He’d already read her proposal and agreed with it. He didn’t laugh or say the government didn’t have money. He was going to share it with others. This was just like school where she got praised for her work. She looked up. “As I think about it, all importers will have the same problems in general, but the details will vary. It was never my intent to leave out one group or another, but the only people I had access to were the IIA members. I’ll welcome all additions or information anybody can find for me.” She smiled at the idea of getting loans and tax breaks for people other than those dirty old men in the IIA. 

Finally, the most delightful dinner Alice had ever attended came to a close. Henry had arranged for a staff car to take her back to her uncle’s house. 

He walked her to the waiting car in the courtyard. “I can ride with you if you like.”

“But you’re eager to call the hospital and check on your sister.”

Henry glanced away, “I’m in charge of the whole family now and making the decisions for Cordelia’s care.” He bit his lip. “I do need to call, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with a strange driver.”

Henry’s vulnerability and courtesy gave Alice the courage to almost hug him. She rested her forearms on his shoulders and laced her fingers behind his neck. “Henry, I’ll be fine. Thank you for a lovely evening. This has been the most wonderful dinner of my life.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“You still owe me a dance. If your dance invitations are half as delightful as your dinner invitations, I won’t let you forget.”

“I won’t forget.” Henry helped Alice into the car.

Once home, Alice called her mama. “I’m safely home. You can stop worrying.”

“It’s early. I thought you’d be later. Where did you go? Did he take you someplace nice?”

Alice flopped back on her bed. “Oh, Mama. He took me to dinner in the Compound with the president and his family. It was the most wonderful evening ever.”

Alice heard her mama relating this information and Papa’s voice responding. The next thing she heard was Papa’s voice. “Did you really meet the new president?”

“I did. I met his whole family. Henry had given him a copy of my proposal. He said it might need additions, but he could see we needed some help to continue to operate. I’m sure the proposal is going to go through with some additions.”

Papa almost interrupted his daughter. “What is the president like? Is he stupid or crude? He’s a general. He can’t be refined.”

“Papa, the president is the most gracious and well-educated man I’ve ever met.” Alice paused to let that sink in for a moment. “He and his wife made me feel welcome. The dinner conversation was the most interesting and varied I’ve encountered. It was really a family dinner. His children were there.”

“How was Henry? Did you learn how their family is doing?”

“Henry was worried about his sister. The family has placed him in charge of everything.” She paused to let that information sink in too. “Tell mama that Henry and I are still planning on going dancing when we can fit it in around our schedules. He’s going to Mesa City next week to check on the family property there.” She disconnected and kicked her feet in the air. Yeah Papa, your daughter just had an intimate dinner with the president and is dating the head of the most powerful family in the country.

Alice thought she might not sleep that night from excitement, but she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 Alice sat beside Henry at the head of the dinner table in the Compound. A servant entered with papers on a tray. “The legislature just sent back the bill making sexual harassment in the workplace a crime. You wanted to sign it tonight?” Alice nodded and signed, President Alice Uzara-Fortenac

Somewhere on the grounds of the Compound, the phantom corpse of Ugly Uzara dissolved into the night air. 
    

To read Henry's side of this date and find out if Henry is the drunk Ugly thinks he is, and if Alice ever gets a little hanky pinky, get a copy of Henry Fortenac.  Available in paperback and for Kindle.https://www.amazon.com/Henry-Fortenac-MTK-Sewer-Book-ebook/dp/B088FZ6WC3/
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Adventure in the Grocery Aisle                                        By Delinda McCann

4/11/2020

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PictureMy farm stand where I get paid in cash.

The last time I left the house was over a month ago when I had root canal done in early March. With the root canal as my most recent memory of being out, I got up at first light to prepare to conquer senior-hour at the grocery store. Selecting my costume carefully for washability and impermeability, I dressed in jeans and a turtleneck covered by a long cotton shirt under my cotton farm coat. I’d laundered the manure out of the coat last week. I have a designer scarf to cover my hair that I pulled up in a ponytail. I considered going without the head-scarf but remembered I’m short. Short people problem: Other people’s coughs and sneezes fall in your hair. 

Driving like an old lady, which on my island means doing the speed limit, I joined a parade of cars all nicely social-distanced heading for the local supermarket. Even when people were commuting, we seldom had that much traffic at six-thirty in the morning. We parked taking every other space in the lot. 

The store puts tags on the freshly washed carts so we knew nobody had touched them after they were washed. The store’s sanitary wipes had been replaced by an industrial sized bottle of Purell, and the hunt was on. My first score of the day was a loaf of artisan bread. The cheap bread was gone, but the store still had the expensive stuff. 

Navigating six feet from other humans quickly became a challenge. First, there were the studiers, those who seemed to think social-distancing means standing in the middle of an aisle and studying the list the wife gave you, effectively blocking off most of one aisle. 

The dreamers slowly wander the aisle gazing lovingly at the array of limited choices before them. They didn’t have much in their carts, so I assumed they were just at the store to get away from their spouse. Their few groceries were simply props. They weren’t too bad about taking up space but they moved so slow. 

Today, I witnessed the man-spread taken to a new level that can best be called an art form. Okay, nobody is getting within six feet of these guys with their carts parked at an angle, feet apart and elbows out. They were keeping a certain distance between them and their cart barricade. As long as everybody traveled in the same direction, the cart-barrier-man-spread was reasonably effective at maintaining social-distance. 

We had a group of shoppers who operated on a business-as-usual-in-facemarks mode. Social-distancing was a lost concept for them. I’d find three or four of them forming a traffic-jam in the  middle of an aisle, while the social-distancing shoppers waited for them to clear the aisle. 

My style was dash and pounce. I liked the other dash-and-pouncers. We’d wait, socially-distanced, with our carts at the end of an aisle away from traffic and search out our prey. We’d wait for the aisle to clear of other shoppers between us and our prey, and dash down the aisle, grabbing our items on the way, only pausing to double and triple check that the store really was out of yeast. I noticed the store personnel who were shopping for the curb-side customers, tended to use the dash-and-pounce method. 

So the studiers, dreamers, the man-spreaders, business-as-usual-in-a-face-mask, and dash-and-pouncers are making their way up and down the aisles traveling in mostly the same direction, maintaining social distance or not. We had one not-so-old guy slowly going the wrong way on the one-way aisles. He messed up everybody, who was trying to social distance. Women, if hubby doesn’t normally know how to use the supermarket, do not send him to the grocery store, even if he is making you crazy. He’s a hazard. 

I’m not really prejudiced against men in the store. Half the people in the store were men and they did just fine, seeming to be somewhat familiar with the social norms of using a supermarket. I felt somewhat sorry for the indecisive man standing in front of the soy sauce, list in hand, knowing that if you touch it, you have to buy it. He reached his hand towards the soy sauce and let it hover while consulting the list in his other hand. I stood at the end of the aisle waiting for him to clear the aisle. He drew his hand back. I waited. He stared at his list and reached toward the organic soy sauce again. Again, he hovered and drew his hand back. I waited and thought here is fodder for a character in a book. For the fourth time, he reached toward his prize. I held my breath. Would he take it? Would he? His hand hovered. He raised a finger, languidly pointing at the bottle just bare inches from his hand. A line of socially-distanced shoppers stood behind me waiting to use the aisle. I bit my lip and watched his hand. Yes! Yes. He took the bottle. He purchased the organic soy sauce and cleared the aisle. I was able to dash down and grab one of the last bags of rice.

Once I finished my shopping, I found the store has installed a huge clear plastic divider between the customer and the checker, leaving the customers no place to set their purse while digging out money.

My whole reason for going into the store instead of using the curbside pick-up was that I get paid in cash for my flowers. I have to make an appointment with the bank to deposit my cash, so I decided I might as well take the cash to the store. I get paid in fives and ones and had just purchased three hundred dollars worth of groceries. I apologized. “I’m sorry for all the counting, but this is from my farm stand. I did take all the money home and wash it in hot soapy water, then I ironed it.” I handed the poor checker my crisp cleaned bills that had obviously been washed and ironed. Fortunately they were easy to count—not being crumpled up.


He laughed and assured me, “These are nicer than what we get from the bank.” 

I felt like the Lion Queen as I hauled the fruit of my hunt home.

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Parker Design Face Mask By Delinda McCann

3/31/2020

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Caution this is a homemade, DIY project that may not hold up to rigorous testing with proper equipment. I named this product for my Grandfather Charles A Parker who could make anything out of the stuff in his shop.


In last week’s blog (See below) I talked about my reasoning in wanting to make face masks. I also mentioned that I found the liner fabric in garage. My polypropylene (Pp) comes from a roll of weed barrier and the polyethylene (Pe) is floating row cover. This week, I felt ready to begin my project.

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Testing
After machine washing and drying all the fabrics I intended to use I decided to test my design. 
I taped two layers of paper towel to the patio door then taped samples of my polypropylene (Pp) and polyethylene (Pe) to the paper towel. Using a spray bottle from the kitchen I sprayed them twice with water, then removed the filter. Back lighting from the window allowed me to see the water spatters. I discovered that I needed 4 layers of my Pp to prevent any visible water spatters from hitting the paper towel. I tried the spray-bottle test without the polyethylene, but didn’t like how wet the Pp layer got. I decided to use the polyethylene (Pe) for moisture control.

PictureFilter and lining fabrics clipped together so I can treat them as one piece the Flining*
Cutting


The lining and filter - The polyethylene (Pe) is lightweight and a bit unruly to work with. The polypropylene (Pp) is a bit stiff. I decided to work with the filter layers and lining layer as all one piece making a Flining* (filter and lining as one piece). I worked with just enough fabric to make both halves of one Flining* at a time— About 7” X 11”.

To control the materials before cutting, I stacked them cotton right side out on the bottom, 2 layers polyethylene (Pe), 4 layers Pp, and 2 layers Pe. I used clothes pins to hold them together until I got all the layers even then I pinned them. I used a marking pen to draw around my pattern directly on the Pe. Before cutting, I machine basted around the outside of my cutting line then finally inside my cutting line along the seam allowance. Working with the filter pieces and lining as all one piece made construction easier.

The outside layer is a larger piece, single layer.​

Insane Note. Why in the sixty-five years I’ve been sewing has it never ever occurred to me to draw the cutting lines directly on the fabric from a card-stock pattern that doesn’t shift and fly all over the place?

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The outside pieces with their pattern.
Assembly
Assembly went fairly smoothly once I remembered to cut both a right and left side for the filter. I quickly learned that two right sides don’t work. I was trying to save fabric and turned one side of the filter the wrong way to fit it closer on the fabric before cutting. We’ve all made that mistake, but you’d think I’d learn. 
The left and right sides of the flinging* are stitched along the curved edge. The outside layer is stitched the same.

I stitched the outside to the flining* right-sides together at the top, turned the mask right side out and pressed, pulling the outside over the filter. Next, I inserted a moldable plastic floral wire along the full length of the top and top-stitched it in place next to the seam allowance. Some people use twist ties or paper clips for shaping around the nose. 

I liked using a seam binding at the bottom of the mask. The outside and Flining layers can be stitched right sides together along the bottom, then the mask turned right side out. The sides of the cover are cut long enough to fold back to make a casing for the elastic ear piece. 

For my first products, I used elastic bands that fit around the ears. That worked and is a common way to hold a mask on. I, however, wear glasses and behind-the-ear hearing aids. Folks, it was getting a little crowded back there. I decided to try ties. 
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Mask with ties
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Fitting
At this point, attaching the face mask is going to be a matter of preference. Some people are going to like the elastic. Some people are allergic to the latex in the elastic. My favorite tie consisted of a 30” piece of ribbon threaded through the casing for the elastic. Tack the tie down through the casing to keep it from slipping out of the casing. I tied this at the top-back of my head, then pulled the bottom of the tie tight at the nape of my neck. This allowed me to adjust the mask under my glasses and get a secure fit. The sides of the mask should gather up a little. ​

Hubby’s been wearing the mask with the elastic bands but had some issues around his glasses. Perhaps people with glasses will prefer the ties to get a closer fit with less slippage.

Washing.

For our first mask, my daughter pre-washed the fabric on warm as is normal for pre-washing. She wore her mask, then washed it on hot water dried it on hot. The fabric shrunk slightly causing the mask to fit differently. We’re pre-washing on hot now. 
Alternatives

My daughter and I are also making covers for N-95 masks using the same pattern with  two layers of cotton fabric without the polypropylene (Pp) filter. ​

I’ve considered making surgical style masks to give away. I may decide to put some Pe in there just because I like the moisture control. As I mentioned last week, moisture is a huge problem in the two layer surgical style cloth mask.
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The pattern we used with link to the original at the top of the page. Link: http://www.craftpassion.com/?p=26304
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For testing we sprayed our samples from one meter and from .66 meter (2 feet_, but measuring in meters is more sciency.
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My daughter in mask with over-the-ear elastic bands. This style moves around more than the once with ties, but is easier to put on and take off. Note: 1/4" elastic is scarce, so we cut some 5/8" down the middle. Also, I posted a bad hair picture of me, so she gets one too.
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The Face Mask By Delinda McCan

3/23/2020

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True Confession: Sometimes, I get obsessive. 

Like everybody else, I’ve been somewhat obsessed with the Coronavirus. I can still carry on my normal activities and am not sure how many cases there are in my state or county right now. However, I did take Bacteriology and Public Health from Dr. Drake. I know how diseases spread. I know how they can change the course of history. I’ve even mentioned the role of disease in society in my M’TK Sewer Rat novels. I’m more than paying attention. Not long ago, I decided I won’t condemn those who hoard TP or food because the same forces that drive others to hoard material things have driven me to hoard information, in addition to a few material things like fabric, garden supplies and floral design products. 

In my search for information, I’ve made a few observations along the way. First, in those places like Tiawan that have handled this virus better than the US,  they encourage people to wear face masks. In the US, we’re not wearing them because we don’t have enough, so the wearing of face masks has been downplayed. Experts admit that a face mask will help prevent the spread of disease by preventing people from touching their faces. It will also contain disease-carrying droplets from those who are infected. Here, the caution is to isolate and leave the masks for medical professionals.
​

The idea to isolate sounds good, but my pets decided to stress-binge and ate six-weeks of food in about three. We’ve had to go out for pet food. My preparation for this type of disaster wasn’t all that good. We’ve run out of a few items and had to go to the store. As someone with asthma and allergies, I seem to cough constantly anyway. People scowl at me if I cough where they can hear me. 

I’ve been okay, but another factor disturbs me about going out. Other people are fecking idiots.  People don’t cover their coughs. They pick their noses. They are not staying home. Some people deny the problem or think they are invincible. They cough and sneeze on everything. They will go everywhere. Finally, some people are deliberate disease vectors. They possess an aggressive arrogance, even going so far as to spit on other people just out of defiance of the advice to stay home. Members of this last group have forced some businesses in my community to close because they can’t keep their establishment safe from those who will spit, cough and sneeze on others just to torment those who want to be safe and sanitary. 

Okay, so we have disease vectors and also the need to go out. What do we do? I immediately started using my wonderful homemade hand sanitizer with alcohol and aloe to protect me while I’m out. When I get to where I can wash, I sing the ABC song while washing with soap. Still, looking the local situation over, I decided the face masks are probably a good idea. We have a shortage of face masks, so buying them isn’t socially responsible. Now is the hour for my fabric hoard to shine. Yes. This is the moment I’ve been saving all that beautiful fabric for. 

Next question: What is the best design? The answer to this question turned into a massive internet search. The short answer was to use two layers of cotton fabric. You saw this type of mask used in the TV series Mash. It used to be the standard. It is adequate for most things. A study done on homemade masks at Cambridge University (Davies 2014) indicated that two layers of cotton like that used in tea towels were better than nothing. I have lots of cotton fabric and some would be better than the tea-towel fabric used in the Cambridge study. I really wanted something better—something superior to better-than-nothing. 

Cotton fabric masks were used for years until the spun-polypropylene masks appeared in the mass market. The newer technology is designed to filter out viruses—yes. A study targeting flu viruses in a hospital in Vietnam (MacIntyre) indicated that not only was the polypropylene mask better at catching viruses, the cotton mask when damp from long usage could promote the spread of a virus. 

I started looking for sources of spun-polypropylene. I found a huge roll of spun-polyethylene in the garage. I went back to the computer. Polyethylene and polypropylene are both spin-able plastic fabrics. They are almost identical with a few molecules of oxygen and differences in bonding separating them chemically. They have slightly different properties in how they hold water and how strong they are. Polyethylene is used in making Kevlar—the stuff the military uses to stop bullets. I use both polyethylene and polypropylene in my garden. I have rolls of the stuff. So how was I going to design my face mask? The Cambridge study tells me I can get a mask that will stop fifty percent of the viruses I encounter by using two layers of cotton fabric. (Davies 2013) Now, if I add some polypropylene I can filter out more viruses. I wonder if a little bit of polyethylene will change the properties of how wet the cotton mask will get if worn for more than an hour? Will it work to reduce the velocity of a cough or sneeze? How many layers, of the products I have available, will I need? 

I am now at the stage of needing to test. Testing would involve, wearing a product to see how comfortable it is. If I want to get real scientific, I can get some colored water and a pressurized sprayer and see how much color gets through my mask. Colored water droplets are bigger than a virus, but the virus is carried on water droplets. The water droplets are what the polypropylene is supposed to filter out. 

I might just make my masks comfortable and add a few layers of the poly plastic fabrics and call this good for community use. My goal is to give these things away for free. 

I’ve sourced all my materials locally. The cotton is from the hoard in the sewing room cupboard. The poly fabrics are from the garden supply shelf in the garage. The moldable plastic for fitting around the nose is from a roll of material I bought for use in floral design. It will be perfect in my masks. It’s bendable and will hold its shape but not poke or scratch. I’m ready for my prototypes. 

Once the prototypes are complete I plan to ask for independent testers. On an island of scientists, I know a few people who might have fun with spray guns and my masks. 

Sources

Anna Davies et al.: Testing the Efficacy of Homemade Masks Cambridge University Press May 2013. https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/disaster-medicine-and-public-health-preparedness/article/testing-the-efficacy-of-homemade-masks-would-they-protect-in-an-influenza-pandemic/0921A05A69A9419C862FA2F35F819D55

MacIntyre, Seale et al.:  A cluster randomized trial of cloth masks compared with medical masks in healthcare workers https://bmjopen.bmj.com/content/5/4/e006577



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Be Prepared By Delinda McCAnn

3/15/2020

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Covid-19: What I’ve learned about being prepared.​

Be Prepared is the Girl Scout motto. I was a Girl Scout, but I wasn’t very good at selling cookies. I earned a few badges, but not many. So, when a real-life problem hit, what kind of Girl Scout was I? We all live with danger—hurricanes,tornados, earthquakes, or blizzards. We’re always told to be prepared. How prepared was I?

I really thought I was prepared. After all, we can get snowed in for five days any time between November and April. I’ve read all the material from the local disaster preparedness groups. I have batteries and emergency heat and lighting. I understand about earthquakes and how they can cut me off from the mainland. I thought I had what I needed to be prepared to stay home.

As a senior citizen who is also a cancer survivor, I know I have some risk factors. My cancer treatment left me with some serious limits. All my life, I’ve had to consider my asthma before I go out. I should be prepared. 

The Seattle area is a Covid-19 hot spot. Seniors are supposed to stay home. People with health issues and breathing problems are supposed to stay home. So, how is this Girl Scout doing? First the good news, we’re fine on TP. I picked up some at Costco the first of February.  We’re good. We also have a bidet attachment on one toilet. If we get low on TP, we can cope. I buy beef by the quarter, so meat is fine.

Pet food has been a semi-failure. The allergic cat ran low on food a few days into my self-isolation. I can buy his food by the case on-line and have done so. I needed to order 10 days in advance, but he’d been eating more than usual and suddenly didn’t have ten days worth of food left. I went out to the pet-food store to buy him more food. Yesterday, hubby said the ducks had only one day of food left. Dang, I could have gotten duck food on the trip out for cat food, but I didn’t check the duck food. What I learned; To be prepared, I need to make sure I have enough pet food on hand. Storage isn’t a problem for me, so I can do this.

I can’t believe we ran low on fresh veggies. I own a farm. We are usually up to our eyeballs in fresh veggies. However, the garden isn’t all that productive this time of year. Collard greens were the main crop I was harvesting from. We’d scheduled workers to redo the raised bed the collards were growing in on March first, so I harvested the tops and pulled them up. I did put them in the vegetable crisper. From there, they went into stir-frys and soup. I seldom buy canned or frozen veggies, so we were suddenly low. I had some kale, and there is still a leek out there, but I’d say I wasn’t prepared for a quarantine. I need to rethink my garden to be certain this doesn’t happen in the future. I should have had kale, overwintered cabbage, leeks, sun chokes, and collards. I do have dahlias. I could dig the tubers and eat them if I’m desperate, but I’d rather sell the tubers for flowers. People who buy canned and frozen veggies won’t have the problem of a sudden shortage in late winter, but I thought my gardens were a protective factor. What I learned: Even with a year-round gardens, gaps in production can place us at-risk for a food shortage if something else goes wrong in the garden.


Okay, but we were still good on meat, flour and toilet paper. Was there somewhere else I wasn’t prepared? Can you believe that on the second day of self-isolation the clothes dryer died? I think it died because the washing machine was too old and tired to spin fast enough to get much water out of the clothes. The dryer was working too hard. Both machines were twenty-five years old. I immediately tried buying new machines on-line. I couldn’t get them delivered. We finally ended up going to an appliance store. That wasn’t too bad. The store was mostly deserted. We didn’t have much of an exchange with the clerk who rang us up and handed us a receipt. Our big exposure to other people came when we got the machines home and needed help unloading them and setting them up. This involved interacting with neighborhood volunteers, touching common surfaces, putting heads together and grunting. What I learned about being prepared is that having old appliances that are on their last legs isn’t being prepared. 

This Girl Scout is careful about keeping her prescription medicines up to date with an emergency supply in the background. I’m good on the medication that keeps me alive, and my cancer from coming back. I have another medication I use occasionally. It’s not covered by my insurance and is ghastly expensive. Most of the time, I can get by on cheaper stuff. Of course, my over-the-counter allergy medication isn’t covered by insurance, but I only need that occasionally. I’m cheap, so I hadn’t restocked the things I don’t need daily. So a week into the self-isolation, I’d been out of the house more than I usually am. It may have been the extra chores or wrestling new appliances that sent me into a flare from my compromised immune system. I really needed my expensive prescription. Next, the red oaks bloomed, and I developed a cough and runny nose. I kept telling myself the symptoms weren’t due to Covid-19, but I still worried. I also knew I must go out, yet again, to get the two medications I needed. What I learned is that I was prepared with a good supply of the medication I need most. I wasn’t even close to being prepared for the occasional immune flare and seasonal allergies. 

I don’t want to say I’m a failure as a Girl Scout, because I loved scouting and playing games and camping. Skinny dipping in Mason Lake is one of my favorite memories. I even sorta liked the crafts. However, as far as being prepared, I didn’t do too well, but at least I know I need to be prepared, and I’m learning how to do better. I hope I’m ready for complete lockdown.









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Blackfish Writers club By Delinda McCann

1/7/2020

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 Chapter 1: Timmy’s Locker Blackfish WA
 Timmy’s Locker, the local restaurant, smelled of fried fish that made my mouth water and my stomach growl. I wondered if I should knock on the sliding wood door to the banquet room or just go in. I felt slightly anxious about joining the Blackfish Writer’s Club, but Timmy had suggested it as a way to keep occupied on the one night a week my new hubby stayed in Seattle while I worked in Blackfish.
A whiny voice carried through the battered wood door. “I know more about what’s really happening than the generals at the Pentagon. They only know what the illuminati tell them.”
I stared wide-eyed at the door. That didn’t sound like writers discussing punctuation. Was I in the right place? Didn’t Timmy say the writer’s group met on Wednesdays? I slid the door aside and peeked around the corner. 
Timmy jumped to his feet. “Maude, come in. Have a seat.” He pulled out a chair at an oval table large enough to seat a party of twenty. As I approached the chair, Timmy pointed and introduced the other writers huddled around one end of the large table. “Enid is our chair. She’s traditionally-published several romances and is writing a fantasy story now.”
Enid was chewing  her stubby fingernail. “Pastor, nice to meet you. Actually, my book isn’t completely fantasy. My characters are fae, but they interact with our world.”
I liked Enid’s slightly unkempt appearance. “Do you let people read what you’ve written so far?”
“Certainly, I always need beta readers to catch inconsistencies and commas. How are you at using commas?”
I grinned, “About as good as anybody. Those things are nasty.”
Timmy pointed again. “This is Jane, our poet.”
I nodded. “Oh, I know you. I met you at Skunk and Cricket’s house. Your hubby works for Willits-Manion with Skunk.”
Jane leaned forward to shake hands with me across the table, trailing the end of her scarf in the cup of coffee in front of her.
Timmy indicated the man beside Jane. “Carl is our science fiction writer.”
I nodded at Carl who was across the table, too far away to shake hands with.
Larkin lifted his index finger as if asking for attention in a classroom. “I’ve met you at my Uncle Glen’s house. You’re the pastor who lives down from them. I’m writing a political expose.”
Carl muttered, “He hasn’t written anything yet.”
Larkin nodded, “I’ve been researching. I want to be careful to do all my research and get my ducks in a row before I start writing.”
As I sat down and opened my little Macbook, Timmy concluded, “Our other members aren’t here yet. Hannah writes wonderful slice of life stories, and Cali writes for the local paper.”
Enid leaned forward. “What are you writing, Pastor?”
“Call me Maudy. I don’t use my title outside of church business. I want to write a collection of alternative worship practices. I’m starting with some of the things I encountered on my honeymoon. Later, I’ll research religious practices in other cultures that can be adapted to our culture to make worship more meaningful to our congregations.”

For the full novel click here: 
https://www.amazon.com/Blackfish-Writers-Club-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0831SPWF2/

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Tony's Tavenera By Delinda McCAnn

12/9/2019

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Chun glanced at the sign printed in Greek and in the common language over the door of Tony’s. He snorted thinking Taverna was a bit classy for the local dive. He slid through the open door. The smell of stale beer, rancid oil, unwashed bodies, urine and general grime stung his nose as he weaved his way through the crowd toward the bar. He slid around behind the bar and went straight to the sink. 

Tony sidled up to him. “Hey you, what you doin’ behind the bar? I don’t want any trouble.”

The chinaman wrung out a grey dishrag. “No trouble boss. Just here to lend a hand.”

Tony made a noise resembling a fart and walked away.

Chun gazed at the crowd as he began to wipe down the bar. He paused and looked at the damp rag. I may be making this worse. He wrinkled his nose and continued wiping toward his mark.  

Chun had identified three sets of people he didn’t recognize as local. His first subject was a man in his thirties sitting at the bar. The man wore the typical brown shirt of a laborer. The shirt had dirt and sawdust down the front and big wet circles under the arms. Chun snorted to himself. The threads in the shirt were new. You couldn’t begin to see through the thing. The collar was dry. Who sweats under the arms and not down the back of his neck? Chun named this prospect Dry Neck and paused in his wiping-up to fill a salt shaker. He listened.

Dry Neck leaned closer to the shoe repairman next to him. “I hear you had some trouble over on State Street today. What happened?”

“Tui and his wife left in an ambulance. They were fine in the morning, but never opened the shop after lunch.”

“They got someone to take over their business?”

“A son, but he’s at the university. Their daughter is married. Some think she and her husband can come help run the shop. She worked there before she got married.”

“How’d they die?”

The shoe repairman turned and raised his eyebrows at the man next to him. “Nobody’s knows if they’re dead or what. There’s rumors, but nobody knows. Maybe the Missus just rode in the ambulance with Tui.”

Chun moved farther down the bar, giving it a swift once-over with his rag before he grabbed a tray, set it on the counter beside Dry Neck and started to fill mugs of beer and set them on the tray.”

Dry Neck took a sip of his beer. “I heard they were robbed.” He swiveled on his chair so he faced the room. He put his arm along the bar behind the shoe repairman, raised his voice and bellowed over the crowd. “Hey, me and my friend are asking if anybody knows how the Tuis on State Street died? Were they robbed?”

Bleary eyes gazed vacantly back at the stranger. Other people turned their backs. They were as curious as the next person but didn’t want trouble.

Chun carried his tray with mugs of beer into the room just as a stranger drinking dark ale at a table near the bar answered. “Aye, they was robbed all right. Not a bit of money left in the till nor anywhere else. I heard they was poisoned.”

Tony lifted his eyes to glance at Chun. I wonder how many people in this neighborhood have any money anywhere in their business? I’ll be paying my rent tonight, then buy more beer and fish for tomorrow. I’ll be broke again by noon.

Chun passed beer to a group of men sitting in a back booth and collected their money. He paused and looked down at the man at the next table with his back to the booth. This man wore a threadbare suit jacket, but he either had a wife who knew how to give a man a great haircut, or he’d paid some serious money to a barber. The well barbered stranger said, “Times are getting tough. Nobody is safe. Not when someone on State Street can be murdered and robbed in broad daylight.”

Chun mentally named this stranger, Barber Man, then gathered empty mugs, took orders and returned behind the bar. While filling the dishwasher, he pulled out his phone and texted, “five” to his boss. He glanced over his shoulder to be certain he didn’t see anybody else who stood out as an outsider.

The talk swirled around the room. Jaden who worked at the print shop said, “If something serious happened, I don’t know what to do. Their son, Nicki, and I were close in secondary school. I should do something. Should I call Nicki tonight?”

Grandpapa E’Tun put his hand on Jaden’s shoulder. “It’s okay to call Nicki tonight. If it’s serious, nothing you can say will make a difference. Best thing is to visit him, sit quiet and let him talk. Ask him if you can help with anything.”

The stranger, Chun had dubbed Dark Ale, scraped his chair back. “I think we best be asking who did this thing to honest people. Too many people don’t want to work, taking what other people earn.” 

His companion nodded his head. “It’s the same everywhere. There’s those who work hard, and those who’ve been coddled and take what doesn’t belong to them.”

Dry Neck at the bar made a rude noise. “But murder? Murder is more serious than being too lazy to work. Someone who does murder has something wrong with them deep inside.”

Grandpapa E’Tun narrowed his eyes at the talk. “It’s too soon to be saying murder, or even that they were robbed. They kept their money at the co-op bank. Most businesses are using that bank now.”

“If there’s a funeral,” Jaden said, “I want to take off from work.”

From behind the bar, Tony answered Jaden. “Don’t worry about getting time off from work. We all close-up shop for a funeral. We always close down the whole neighborhood to honor the dead.”

Barbered Man at the back table banged his empty mug on the table. “So everybody loses a day’s wages because some punk kid, with no upbringing, kills and robs their neighbor. See how the poison spreads. Seems to me to keep the poison from spreading, we need to be dealing with the rot that causes the problem.”

Dry Neck took a slow sip of his beer. “You’re right you know. This is exactly how a respectable neighborhood goes down hill. A bad element moves in and causes trouble. The trouble spreads, cutting into everybody’s profits until honest people can’t pay their rent.”

The specter of unpaid rent swept through the room whispering into hearts and minds. The crowd fell silent and looked at their beer.

Chun stood with his back to the room drying glasses, and watching the crowd through the mirror behind the shelves of beer bottles and glasses. He admired the stranger’s ability to manipulate the crowd.

Dark Ale’s companion raised his voice. “We’ve all seen it happen before in other cities. M’TK used to be the center of Midland before the bad element moved in, turning it into the worst slum the country has seen. The old emperor did everybody a favor when he burned the place. That’s the only thing to do when gangs and drug addicts take over a neighborhood, burn it down.”

Zach stood up and headed for the door. “You’re talking about something that happened a long time ago. That can’t happen now. We have laws. If Nicki’s folks were murdered, the law will find those responsible, and our prosecutors will see they’re punished.” He stomped out the door.

Heads nodded behind Zach. People looked at their neighbors. Could the prosecutors’ offices put an end to the bad times? They did before. They wouldn’t let the gangs and crooks take over a city again, would they?

“Poor kid’s too young to know how times used to be. Doesn’t really know how corruption creeps into a neighborhood. I see it happening, everywhere Midland, Portlandia, Mesa City. Honest people can’t walk down some streets after dark for fear some punk kid will beat them up and rob them.” Dark Ale shook his head.

Dark Ale’s companion nudged his friend. “Now, don’t judge the lad. You heard him. Those people who died were his best friend’s folks. He’s grieving and not thinking about the big picture here.”

Dark Ale looked into his mug. “You’re right. When folks are grieving they don’t think straight. They don’t see that action needs to be taken immediately to stop crime before it sets in.”

“And they don’t see where even good people have blind spots.” Dry Neck had turned to face the table.

Chun took his rag and started wiping down tables, curious to see where this would lead. 

Grandpapa E’Tun scowled, slammed his empty glass on the table and stomped to the door. “You’re all crazy. Nobody knows what happened. Could be Tui just had a bad case of gas.” He slammed the door on the way out.

Barbered Man said, “Seems to me that the point is that things are going downhill. Punk kids run loose with no rules and no parents to make them behave. That’s the point. We’re all injured by lawlessness even if we aren’t the ones who’ve been robbed and murdered.”

Dark Ale held up his mug for a refill. “Who’s to say we won’t be the next one to be killed in our sleep. You lay down for a little nap and someone you trust slips in and cuts your throat, then makes off with your hard-earned money.”

Chun grabbed a pitcher off the end of the bar and hurried to fill Dark Ale’s glass.

Tony glanced at Chun, thankful to have backup if things turned nasty. He scowled, for a busy night, he hadn’t been run off his feet. Chun had actually been a help. He glanced toward the door hoping that Chun’s buddies wouldn’t come through and beat the crap out of the strangers and break-up his bar. 

Dry Neck said, “But this neighborhood is over a kilometer from the cathedral. It’s around the cathedral that we’ve had trouble in Portlandia. Those nuns, bless their innocent souls, took in those orphans, and it’s the orphans causing trouble.” He crossed himself at the mention of the nuns. 

Barbered man’s companion said, “They don’t have orphans at the cathedral here. This is where the archbishop lives, and you can’t have a bunch of dangerous smolts around someone important like the archbishop.”

Dry Neck nodded. “That’s okay then. Maybe it was river folk or someone else who killed those people.” He took another sip of his beer and shook his head again. “It’s a real problem in Portlandia. Those nuns spend half their time praying and the orphans just run wild. If it were regular folk letting this happen, you’d know what to do, but you can’t go busting up a convent and beating up nuns to teach them a lesson.” He crossed himself again.

The talk turned general, but despite the hour getting later few people left the bar. Chun thought The talk seems to have died down without going anywhere, should I head around to see the boss? 

Tony had started the dishwasher again when Barbered Man’s companion called across the room. “You know, I’ve been thinking, and something seems odd to me about this whole murder and robbery thing. We don’t have orphans at the cathedral here and it’s far enough away that there wouldn’t be a problem down here. But, we do have orphans in the city, and wouldn’t you know, they just happen to live on the other side of the park-less than a kilometer from the murder.”

Dry Neck sat up straight. “I had no idea they could be that close to here. You could be on to something.” He glanced toward the door and shuddered as if wild orphans could break the door down any moment. “Do they keep to themselves?”

Dark Ale’s companion said, “We never see the smallest smolts, but the bigger ones who are old enough to be working and supporting themselves run wild all over the city.”

Dry Neck glanced toward the door again. “Why hasn’t anybody done something about them? Why haven’t they been sent to work in the harvest?”

Dark Ale asked, “What can we do? They should be working. We all agree on that, but we can’t be busting up The Compound and beating up the president.”

Chun smiled over his mental picture of Dry Neck or Dark Ale attempting to attack the president. He’d been privileged to see the president spar. He wanted to grin over the image.

Dry Neck made a rude noise. “Somebody’s got to teach orphans how to behave. But then, they may not have been anywhere near State Street. It’s a respectable neighborhood. They might prefer someplace they can get drugs.”

Barbered Man’s companion said, “It would be easy enough to teach them a lesson, but the neighbors don’t want to get in trouble with the president. They might try to protect the students.”

Dry Neck sat forward on his stool. “Good God, man. Do you mean to tell me the locals will let a group of wild animals murder their friends, and they won’t fight back?” He turned his back to the crowd and scowled at the bar. After a few minutes he turned back to the crowd. “I can’t believe that a whole neighborhood will refuse to stand up for their murdered friends. What are they, cowards? Maybe they deserve to have their shops broken up and to be murdered in their beds. I know if it were me and my neighbors I’d be taking some action to teach those criminals some respect and to go get an honest job.”

Dark Ale growled. “There’s plenty of farm jobs waiting for workers. There’s no need for good people to be supporting those old enough to work.”

Dark Ale’s companion stood and threw money on the table to pay for his drinks. “I think it was a good thing to support the orphans when they were just tiny. I even gave the local orphanage toys and clothes my kids had outgrown. We should be proud to help out like that, but those orphans have grown up now and should be paying us back for their keep. I’m all for teaching them a lesson and sending them to work in the fields.”

Dark Ale stood to leave. “There’s those that will stick up for their friends and then there’s those who need to be taught what happens to false friends.” He left with his companion in tow.

Just as the door closed behind the two men, Chun opened the dishwasher letting out a loud burst of noise. If anybody shouted for help outside the door, nobody inside could hear.

The hour grew later and the bar emptied. Finally, the shoe repairman paid his bill and commented to Tony. “Well, that was an entertaining evening.” He waved to Chun. “Hey, this place has never been this clean. Is it safe for me to leave, or will I find myself being used for fish bait by a bunch of Chinese.”

Chun grinned. “Barbecue. We’re cooks not fishermen. Dark meat is popular in the barbecue.”

The shoe repairman woke his wife when he got home. “I know I’m late, but it got real interesting down at Tony’s.” He told her the story of his evening. “So, the way I read this is that these guys are from Vanderholm since they mentioned working in the fields. They want those orphanage kids who walk past here going to school to work for them, and if anybody interferes, they’ll break up our shop. Who knows, maybe Ramon and U’Kee are the ones who poisoned Tui.”

His wife sat up and rubbed at her tired eyes. “Nobody poisoned Tui except himself. His gallbladder has been bad for years, and he will eat fried fish. His poor wife had the ambulance cart him off after he ate fried fish from the street vendor at the corner of Park and Montagna Streets. Tui was moaning and carrying on something fierce, thinking he would die and calling out to the Blessed Virgin Mother to pray for him.” She plumped her pillow and sat scowling into the dark for a minute or so. “Still, we might be wise to not be around when the students walk by on their way to school tomorrow. We’ll go visit Tui in the hospital and not open after lunch until closer to three.”

“I suppose you’re right. I need to pick up some more grommets anyway. We’ll visit Tui then stop by Metal Supply on our way home.”






 






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    Delinda McCann is a social psychologist, author, avid organic gardener and amateur musician.

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