Archive: Author: rkwallace

      My purse fell over in the passenger seat spilling its contents on the car’s floor. Gathering up the pieces I spotted my favorite earring.  Its mate had gone missing several months ago. What good is one earring? I should just throw it out but it was a favorite. I threw it back in the purse with all the other stuff.
       Half a pair of anything is one of life’s great frustrations. Who hasn’t done a load of laundry and discovered at least one unmatched sock? You stick it in the corner of the sock drawer assuming the mate will show up and sometimes it never does.You end up with four or five lonesome rejects in the drawer. Where do all the mates go?
       Early in my newspaper career I wrote a column for single people. The promotional photo featured a group of unmatched shoes. Nothing expresses unrealized potential like half a pair.
       One Shoe Off is the second book in the Jordan Daily News mystery series, The title refers to a clue that a kidnapped editor left behind. But as the story develops it becomes a metaphor for a world off balance where the guilty prosper and the innocent are punished.”One shoe off, one shoe on, diddle, diddle dumpling….”
         The day after my purse spilled its contents I was straightening my bedroom when once again I spied that beloved lone earring in the jewelry box. Wait a minute!
          I ran down the hall…literally ran to the kitchen. I grabbed my purse, fished through the jumble and pulled out my earring. I ran back down the hall to the bedroom, grabbed the earring in the jewelry box and held the two up side by side. It was a Biblical  moment. Call the neighbors and rejoice. That which was lost has been found.

     I discovered the unifying power of a common enemy when I was in college.  I lived in a co-op: Twenty-one girls in a big old house and a married couple who served as our “house parents.” We had a hired cook, and our house parents ordered supplies. But otherwise the girls shared the duties of running the house — dishes, cleaning, serving meals.
              And we fought continuously. We disagreed with the division of duties, complained about the way the bathrooms were cleaned or the way the dishes were stacked. We fought over boys and borrowed clothes, those who hogged the shower or used all the hot water, or played music too loud, or got up too early or stayed up too late.
             One day our house parents called a meeting. Seems the college had decided that the campus didn’t need two co-ops and since our building was smaller and older than the other, the housing board had proposed closing our building at the end of the school year. If we wanted to live in a coop the following year we would have priority for any openings in the remaining building.
             The girls around that table changed instantly. We praised everything about our old house and how it was run. We started working together, coming up with a strategy. We wrote letters, set up an inspection, selected a team to present our case to the board. And we won.
             I remember being amazed at the transformation, how those girls who could be so petty and vindictive were suddenly supportive of each other when we had a common cause.
              I am reminded of that experience now that a pesky little virus is attacking people all over the world. We used to be suspicious of people from other countries and cultures. We looked down on their religion, their government, their language. Now suddenly we see similarities. We’re all wearing masks and washing hands. We all worry about our older citizens. We tear up at the empty streets, applaud when singing echos from balconies, even when we don’t understand the words.
               And we know if we just stick together, we can beat this thing.

Repurposed sleep mask

         Never in my writer’s wildest dream did I imagine I would wear a mask to the grocery store. Or that people would brag on Facebook about the design of their latest facial accessory.
            Back in February — seems like a century ago doesn’t it? — I attended the Conference on World Affairs in St. Petersburg, Fl. It’s a free event with panels of experts on various topics so hundreds of us packed the ballrooms at the University of South Florida Student Center. There wasn’t an empty seat and late arrivals stood along the walls or sat on the floor. I remember one young man sitting on the floor wearing a plain white mask over his mouth and nose. I wondered at the time: Is he sick or is he afraid someone here might be sick? What are masks for, to protect the public or the wearer?
            Two months later masks have become so ubiquitous that the question doesn’t matter: protecting the public is protecting the wearer.
            By mid-March, with events being canceled and quarantine discussed,  a quilter friend delved into her scrap bag and stitched a mask for me as well as everyone in her extended family.  When that one is in the laundry, I can fall back on an airline-handout sleep mask that works just as well to cover the mouth instead of the eyes. And some folks simply resort to a basic  “stick-em-up” bandana.
             A friend joked the other day that before long someone will start selling masks with political slogans. In 2020 the mask is more visible than a bumper sticker.

   I looked up from the kitchen sink just in time to see a dark cloud moving quickly across the surf just beyond my window. The shadow was headed toward shore and suddenly the dark mass split into six distinct pieces.
         “Dolphins,” I yelled to Steve as I wiped my hands on a dish towel and headed for the balcony.
         There they were frolicking in the shallow water between the shore and the line of buoys that keep boats away from swimmers. Rythmically coming up for air, sometimes just a fin, sometimes a full face, and once in a great while a jump out of the water and splash.
          It’s a hypnotic display and I usually forget to pull myself away to take a picture. When I do try to snap one I seldom catch more than the splash,  so I have little evidence that the miracle dance of the dolphins really happens. Not every day. Sometimes we have gone weeks without seeing them. And then suddenly when you least expect it, looking up from the computer screen or talking on the phone and there they are: the graceful, playful showmen of the sea.
          Their visits are extra special now because our four-month winter on the beach is coming to an end. The past two weeks have been the strangest of all as we have been “stuck” in this beautiful spot afraid to get too far from our balcony for fear we might get closer than six feet to another mortal in this surreal Twilight Zone of international quarantines.
          I find myself watching for dolphins a little closer now, needing that moment of magic to convince me that maybe everything will be okay.

The most irritating part of the current virus scare is that I have suddenly been labeled part of the “at risk” population.
           Granted I am a “senior citizen,” a title that bestows a hint of respect for longevity.  But lately the respect has turned into patronizing.
            It’s bad enough that “boomer” has become a derogatory label meaning old-fashioned or unable to grasp today’s high tech world. But now our children are calling to check if we have managed to survive another day without catching a bug that will most surely kill us.Don’t they realize that we fought off measles and mumps and chicken pox for them long before vaccinations were available?
            Radio announcers insist that we stay indoors, away from friends and church and the volunteer work that adds spice to later years. “This is not a joke. This is serious.”
            Okay, we get it. This “novel” virus is a serial killer and the mortality rate doubles if you are over 60. But give us a little credit. We’re the ones who taught you how to wash your hands. We used to sterilize your bottles. We know how to clean the house. Social distancing? We discovered that when our kids became teens and no longer wanted to admit they knew us. Soon we were echoing in three-bedroom empty nests.We KNOW about social distancing.
             We may have a few aches and pains, but many of us lead active lives hiking, biking, kayaking, skiing. Just because my birthday cake has enough candles to set off a smoke alarm doesn’t mean I am a helpless little ol’ lady.