When we were living the military life, we spent a year here, or a couple of years there. On
our first posting, we shared a driveway
with another couple and their house. He
seemed to be away a lot. His partner, Angel, was a free spirit.
Angel had two old cats who did nothing but drape themselves over the couch
and snore. She bought an electric
fireplace that same year, and kept it on
all year long. “ For the ambience,” she said. She hung foil stars over the mantle to reflect the light.
The first time I met Angel was in the Canex, the base grocery
store. She was decked out in a long
purple dress, high heels and a glittery hair band in her green streaked hair.
She loved to dress up. “You never know who you might meet,” she told me.
First time I was invited to her house, she said she’d make us
a snack. So Angel crumbled up rice cakes, cheese rice cakes, at that, into a bowl, poured hot water over and mushed
it up. She served it with big mugs of pink lemonade.
In the fall we took
down her garden. We dumped out all of her pots of dead flowers .
It was the one time she didn’t wear a long dress, I noticed. Instead she wore leggings with a sunflower
smock and feathers in her hair.
At the back of her property there was an open yard waste pile. Squash and
pumpkins grew out of the compost.She drew eyes on them. Said she couldn’t bear
to cut them up.
Once we’d finished with the compost she took plastic geraniums
to decorate the front of her house.
In December she took
them all down to replace with plastic snowmen, real candy canes on the
trees, and peanut butter seed bells for
the birds. She made up paper plates of xmas cookies for the postman.
By Easter, she’d stuff plastic tulips and daffodils in the window
boxes. Real flowers followed for summer. And so on and so forth.
In winter, the compost
got covered with snow till it looked like a ski hill. Each spring, I helped turn over the compost.
That’s when the rats showed up, scurrying about hither and
yon. They’d sit on top of the compost hill, washing their little faces. We
thought they were cute. They watched us
with interest. They brought their babies to the top of the pile.
Angel liked them. A lot. She talked to them . I swear they
understood her.
Then rats got into her
house, into the walls . She said she
could hear them scuffling around. Making nests. She thought it was wonderful,
till they got into her closet and ate her fancy shoes.
The Base People came by one day, took down the compost pile
and spent some time in her house clearing out her closet.
Angel was told she couldn’t have a compost pile. She sighed and
waved her hands.
So she got a goat to eat the grass. Then she wouldn’t have to
mow.
She called the goat Mildred, after her aunt. We’d sit on the
front steps, while Mildred chewed at the grass. Angel showed me her writing
book. She drew angels, and gargoyles to decorate her short stories.
She wrote late at night, into the wee hours. I would see her
light. She let Mildred sleep in the house. The cats didn’t like the goat. But
the goat liked the cats. Eventually, the cats were won over and Angel said the
three of them could be seen flopped by the electric fire
The Base People said Mildred had to go. She’d gotten into the
other garages and eaten apples, garden
hose, and what not. So Mildred was shipped off to a local petting zoo
farm. Angel visited her every other weekend. She sang moon river to her. The goat
seemed to like that. Angel wore a long
purple dress and big sunglasses, so Mildred recognized her.
In summer we sat in green fields, pressed flowers, caught
butterflies, and had picnics by the River. For mess dinners we dressed to the
nines. Her in her satin gowns, Marilyn Munroe hair, and red lipstick.
For fun, we’d drive through McDonald’s drive thru and pay for
the person behind us. “Just because,” Angel said. It always stuck with me.
We were posted out, by that third summer. Angel still stayed on the base. She got another goat.
This time she got a license for him. Named him Chester. She drew me a picture
of a goat, before we drove off. In years to come, she became a celebrated
children’s author, using Mildred and Chester as her inspiration.
And now, every time I go thru a drive thru, if possible, I pay
for the person behind me in the lineup. It feels good. Just because…………..
Photographs 2022
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