Flamingos Return
Saturday, September 1st, 2007So, it’s time to pack up all the great belly laughs, people, and experiences of Sitka and tie them into a knapsack to carry over my brain’s shoulder. As summer comes to a close (I leave tomorrow), I realize that many earlier stories never really ended, but just kept sprouting new shoots….
The Sitka Police Blotter continued to be my favorite way to stay up on “the news.” Turns out I’m not the only one. They’ve collected hundreds of them in a book for sale: Small Town: BIG Crime. Here are a couple other favorite entries:
“July 27 At 4:10pm a resident reported seeing a woman kick a man in the head while he was driving. The two agreed to separate for the night.”
“Aug. 13 At 8:20pm police performed a welfare check on a Wachusetts St. man who was sitting on his lawnmower, which was running although it was on concrete. The man was fine, and said he didn’t need any assistance.”
“Aug 15 At 9:30 pm a woman called to report a missing jacket. She had left the jacket at the top of Arrowhead to mark her trail, she said, but never saw that trail again.”
OK, that last one’s a lie. It’s the blotter-that-would-have-been, if I hadn’t been chicken to call them. Indeed I did take off my jacket as a “clever” way not to get lost coming down…not so clever.
The shower room waltzer died suddenly the next weekend. A nurse apologized sadly to me on Monday, knowing that I had “a thing” for him (like nearly all the little old men). I couldn’t feel sad though. I think living independently, driving, dancing, singing, making others laugh up to 95 years, then having a quick death before the nursing home has your bed ready is cause for heel-kicking celebration!
The man who made me chuckle with, “So, you wanna come chop some wood?” actually did just that as a favor to me. I was shopping for gadgets for a Home Health patient when he emerged from the back of the store. We determined that what I was looking for didn’t actually exist, but, no problem: “I can make that…I’ve got some wood….” And he did.
Tales of the White E continued to entertain. Like how they put toast in toasters for sale. And how one of the store volunteers (who is either 90 or 60) lives on an island, kayaks to shore, and bicycles into town, every day. Nearly everyone has a story about “the time I almost hit Alice.” As I get ready to leave, I have a bag of stuff (most of which originated there) on its way back, confirming the rumor that the White E really is “a rental shop.”
Many years ago a roommate brought home a photo: a tree full of flamingos. “You’ll never believe this!” he naively claimed and proceeded to tell me the story of how a storm hit and migrating flamingos lost their way and ended out in this little town called Sitka in the Southeast. I believed him (of course) and as a result became the recipient of dozens of flamingo jokes and cartoons. So, 7 years later, I was determined to see those damn flamingos that cost me my pride (wink). Well, not only did I finally see them, but I actually worked with one of the people who bravely put them there!
And, of course there were more tales of missing legs, falling teeth, falling rain, raining generosities, and generous laughs. Maybe no story really ever ends; the characters become quiet, the storyteller gets distracted or one or the other moves out of range, just for a while.
bimpy_ak