Archives for October 2012

I Love a Rainy Night

October 30, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

This week I am attending a one-week writer’s residency program at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs. During this time I will re-post some of my favorite blogs from the prior year. Maybe you missed one?

originally published 01/24/12…

A trip back home to Northeast Arkansas would be incomplete without at least one long night of thunderstorms, complete with hail, straight-line winds and the resulting power outage. Last night was that night for my mom and me. As huge storms brewed in the nation’s mid-section, they roared toward the Mississippi River and our house.

We were relaxing in the den watching Dateline when we were first notified of impending bad weather. A severe thunderstorm and tornado warning flashed along the bottom of the television screen.
These storms came up with very little warning. Living on a farm off a dark country road, we were somewhat out of touch with the world. The weather reporters became more and more animated and their maps became more and more colorful. Twirling arrows indicated possible tornadoes and tiny ping pong balls mimicked hail. They predicted an 8 in 10 chance of a tornado in our area. I was skeptical of this statistic.

We ignored the warnings. We were much more concerned with whether or not the newlywed had drowned his young cute wife, but as Dateline was interrupted yet again we realized we may never know. I thought he was guilty. And I bet the people watching The Bachelor were plenty upset with the interruptions…

Another alert was issued with this specific instruction that spoke volumes…. “Abandon mobile homes, hide in a ditch and wear durable shoes”. Seriously. Exact Quote. LifeInTheCountry. I looked at my bare feet as I lay on the couch under a quilt. I glanced over at my mother. She was wearing purple fuzzy Ugg slippers. Maybe I didn’t give this weatherman with the bad comb-over the credit he deserved? He actually knew his audience pretty well. Perhaps we should heed his warning? As the wind began to howl and whistle through the fireplace, and the interior door in the den began to shake, I saw visions of those freaky munchkins and flying monkeys.

Ok, I’m going to get my durable shoes!

We escaped into a tiny, interior, window-less bedroom. It was cave-like. At night you cannot see your hand in front of your face. My mother converted it into a kids’ room when the grandchildren were born. It became a place to store old dolls that now had that semi-creepy appearance, old plastic jack-o-lanterns and other toys forgotten by time. In fact, it was quite possibly scarier than a tornado.

There were at least 30 stuffed animals staring at me, and it was no wonder. I was wearing a black t-shirt from my favorite pizza restaurant, gym shorts and my durable shoes. I had quickly snagged a sweater from my bedroom, along with my bright blue bra. Seriously, if I awake in our rice field in the morning, I will not be braless. It is common knowledge that reporters seek out the most pitiful and scary people to interview after a disaster – I would not be this person tomorrow morning! I also grabbed my well gnawed night guard. I simply cannot sleep without my night guard – it protects my teeth as I clinch and grind. If the house is blown away, and we are relocated to a temporary shelter at the high school gym, I will need my sleep. Plus, this small piece of hard plastic is incredibly expensive! In the event of a disaster, I will need that money for other things. Like Wine. My mother brought her cat, into the room. Gabby knew the routine well, as she had been born in tornado alley. She just stared at us, probably freaked out by the stuffed animals everywhere. Or by me.

After about 30 minutes, we ventured out of our “safe room” to complete silence. Either the storm had passed or the eye was directly overhead. Do tornadoes have eyes? Exhausted, I slept well (with the help of my night guard). When we awoke in the morning, there were several large limbs scattered throughout the front yard from the pecan trees. Water stood in the field across the road. The sky was clear and blue. We had survived another storm. I was so relieved that we had not been relocated north of the Mason-Dixon Line during the night. I’m pretty sure that’s where the flying monkeys reside.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Katherine McPhee

Come Away With Me

October 29, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

My space at Dairy Hollow has a generous bathroom with a huge sunken tub. I prefer showers. As Kramer (Seinfeld) aptly explained, if I don’t have a good shower, I’m not myself. I feel weak and ineffectual…Showers are quick and efficient – in and out. Get on with the day. Waiting and waiting and waiting for the tub to fill with water makes me antsy. Baths are disgusting – sitting there in my own tepid pool of filth (again, Kramer greatness).

But somehow at Dairy Hollow a bathtub is fitting. I have no agenda. After a writing session and an invigorating hike through the chilly Ozarks, a steamy bath is relaxing.

As I soak, I stare at a photo over the tub. A framed photo from Where the Wild Things Are, a favorite children’s picture book by American writer and illustrator Maurice Sendak. Years ago my son and I read this book together each night, over and over. He memorized the words and recited it along with me. My son who is now in college…I wonder if he still remembers the words to the story?

Initially I thought it to be strange artwork for the bathroom, but as my mind cleared I realized the illustration is perfect.

The story is about imagination and magical travel and wild flights of fancy. It’s about playing and being creative. It’s about escaping to another place, another land, a world with a wild rumpus!

Even Max’s wolf costume is befitting for Halloween in Eureka Springs where zombies are soon to stagger down Spring Street.

Sometimes I think I could stay here forever, in the woods at my writing desk overlooking the turning leaves. But at the end of the week home will beckon. And I will sail back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of my very own home where supper will be waiting for me (maybe?)…

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Come Away With Me, Norah Jones

“There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen.”
― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

Deputy Nana

October 29, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Deputy BAT

My mother was hauled down to the bowels of the Memphis International Airport when the x-ray machine spotted her pistol in the bottom of her purse. It was simply a silly misunderstanding, but nevertheless the FAA frowned on it, even pre-September 11. The security agent may not have detected the firearm, which is a scary notion, but as the purse disappeared into the machine’s black hole Momma gasped in a guilty panic, “Oh no!”, drawing more attention to herself than normal.

“Run that purse through again,” the agent ordered.

Prior to the incident, she had only begun to pack. An Arkansas State Trooper friend encouraged she carry a gun after the recent shootout at her house. A tri-state manhunt and interstate roadblock ended with one escaped prisoner dead at her back door, his cellmate shot and injured in the bean field out back and their terrified hostage at Momma’s kitchen table. Anyone who knows our family, knows this excitement is typical for us.

Bullet holes still nick the spanish tile floors inside the house as a constant reminder and conversation starter. Not that she ever needs a conversation starter. In the time it takes to check out at Wal-Mart, my mother has a talent for learning the innermost secrets of the person queued up behind her.

But like overzealous Barney Fife, my mother’s gun mainly just created problems. It was an innocent mistake, an unfortunate accident resulting in twelve months of probation.

Clearly these people in Tennessee didn’t know who she was.

She was forced to walk a fine line as she met monthly with her probation officer in Memphis and attended court with other criminals. Thomas Tate, much like Andy Taylor, was surprisingly calm throughout this ordeal. But really, what choice did he have?

Upon successfully fulfilling the terms of probation including not drinking wine at the country club, her record was completely expunged. She could vote again. And since that nightmare, to our knowledge, she has managed to keep her nose clean. We are so proud.

Last week at home while spring breaking with my sister and her kids, Momma was sworn in as honorary deputy of ~~Mayberry~~ Mississippi County, receiving a badge and identification card at the county jail. Oh, if Thomas Tate had lived to see this day.

How many kids in Plano, Texas returned to school saying, “We spent our spring break gambling at the horse track after a quick trip to Graceland. Oh and our Nana was sworn in as deputy at the county farm?” ZERO. But we had an educational spring break, learning that with hard work anyone can get their life back on track.