Month: June 2018

Ticked Off

In Arkansas, my great-grandparents lived across the street from a wild, wooded area. We’d hike there regularly- and get ticks regularly. I didn’t dread Arkansas on behalf of the ticks; they were just a feature of the landscape. New York was taxis, art museums, and Italian ice; Arkansas was Walmart and ticks.  

Nowadays, if you research tick removal, you will be directed to pull it out with tweezers and voila! I’m not sure what was so different back then- it’s possible that some ticks may have burrowed beneath the skin. At least once each visit, the adults would convene and swap home remedies they’d heard in passing, then decide which ones to try. I felt like a guinea pig in some grand insect experiment. Once, a tick got painted with clear nail polish to try and suffocate it. Another time, a flame and burning cigarette were each held near my skin to try and coax the tick out of hiding. Those were not the most comfortable moments for a preschooler. I honestly don’t remember which remedies worked or how the ticks were eventually extracted after failed attempts, but I always went to bed tick-free.

On this trip, I have seen a few ticks, but I’ve never found one on me. I like to think that because of all that experimentation, I now exude a natural tick repellent. It’s my superpower.  

Let’s Call It A Draw

For some family vacations, we’d drive to visit my great-grandparents in Arkansas. Once, as we got close to their neighborhood, one of my parents guessed that Great-Grandma would have dinner ready for us. “No way; it’s too late.” “Are you kidding? She lives for this!” They argued for a minute, then bet each other a quarter.  

A moment of calm passed. “Okay, if she cooked, what did she make?” “Navy bean soup.” “Beef stew.” They bet each other another quarter.  

It turned out that they each won one of the bets. Instead of just calling it a wash, my parents actually traded quarters.  

This story reminds me of how my mom and I sometimes disagree about the way a word should be pronounced until one of us looks it up in the dictionary. Almost every time, both pronunciations are listed. So now, when we disagree on something, I automatically assume that we’re both right.

a misty morning
our ferry plays hide and seek
with the horizon

Do You Feel Lucky?

My dad was drafted into the army after college. It was during the time of Vietnam. After basic and advanced training, orders for each soldier’s next assignment were posted on a bulletin board outside of their barracks. “Vietnam” was printed on the sheet, with thousands of names listed underneath it. After that, it said “Germany.” Two people were listed, and my dad was one of them.

I recently visited The Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial in Washington, DC. The walls were thinner and shorter than I thought they’d be, but still, the amount of names was sobering. Someone had left note cards at the base of the wall with info on select soldiers: their picture, their name, where they were from, how old they were when they died. 20, 21, 24… I’ve heard the statistics before, but the older I get, the harder it is to imagine dying so young. I kept thinking how lucky he was, not to end up a name on that wall. For those of us who know him, we are lucky, too! Happy Father’s Day!  

Photo: azaleas at BP gas station, Galax, VA