Posts Tagged ‘economy’

Live! From Paradise! #249

Friday, March 5th, 2010

I’ve always marveled at the fact that the most consistent thing in life is change.

The paradox is so clear that no one even blinks when it’s pointed out.

Unless, that is, the change is occurring to you … and it’s not the kind of change you were wishing for.

Here at Cloud Creek Ranch, Gwen the Beautiful and I have been going through a couple of months of change, with no end in sight. And try as I may to be ready for the new — mostly by keeping myself open to the unexpected so I can go with it — I’ve got to admit that recent, current, and future changes have me … well, how about if I protect my feelings by saying “off-balance” and let it go at that?

My health’s turn for the worse is the “recent” change I’m talking about. And Gwen and I and all the spirits at Cloud Creek (both living and not-quite-material) have been deeply affected.

My body no longer lets me do the things it used to, leading to a situation where I have to face a future without Huck the Spotless Appaloosa. A couple of weeks ago, in this very space, I put out a call for possible caretakers or even owners (as if anyone could “own” a free soul like him!) for my horse brother.

At first, it looked like Burl Jr., Blues Singer Extraordinaire, was going to take Huck to his father’s farm, but that fell through when our still-sputtering economy cost Burl Sr., longtime Paradise Farmer of the Year, control of the spread he’s owned for almost fifty years. This was accompanied by the end of Burl, Jr.’s day job, which means that he, wife Tera, and toddler son Strummer have taken off on another road trip not merely in search of musical fame and fortune but in need of it to pay the bills.

Huck’s future, however, still seems provided for. Even as I write this, the Landry family is packing up for a move from the coast of Florida to The Mountain, to ensconce itself on the property. The Landrys are even bringing their own horses with them so Huck will have plenty of company.

This future change isn’t without its dark lining. The Landrys will be taking over both the Main House and the Annex because Gwen and I won’t be here. Remember last summer, when we spent a month in Port Paradise, on the Pacific Northwest coast? We’re headed back there for an indefinite period of time, to be closer to most of our family … and snug in the bosom of Youngest Daughter Amber and her Amazing Jeremiah.

The easiest way for anyone in Paradise to envision Port Paradise is to think of the Ozarks’ Victorian haven, Eureka Springs. Add oceanfront. Stir in classic wooden sailing ships, galleries galore, nearby Seattle’s modern medical facilities, and a devotion to Credence Clearwater Revival unmatched anywhere else in the world and you’ve got the setting for my recuperation.

Accompanying Gwen and me will be Emmy the Bold, Ditsy Dixie the Golden Lab, and Decker the Giant-Hearted.

In fact, Decker’s already there. Thanks to Our Friend the Dog Trainer, a loyal reader of all I’ve written here, Decker’s natural good-nature, intelligence, and acute awareness of his surroundings have been professionally honed, turning him into a full-fledged Service Dog.

Our Friend is refining Decker’s training now, so he’ll be able to accompany us wherever we go along Puget Sound and, at the command of, “Take us home,” return us to our car or front door.

The perfect companion for a couple as “directionally challenged” as Gwen and I have found ourselves to be over the years.

Because we’ll be living in a small space with the kind of rules and requirements that normally chafe me to the bone (and, who knows, may do that still), we’re unable to take Belle the Wary, Emmy’s daughter and Decker’s litter sister, and Bob the Very Careful Cat.

As a result, Gwen and I are looking for homes for both of these loyal, lovable, and (because who would expect the Brodys to have it any other way?) slightly eccentric friends. If anyone out there, current neighbors and readers and friends of friends, wants to know more about either of these two fine furballs, I guarantee a prompt reply to any email sent to my larrybrody@cloudcreek.org address.

So, there we have it. Change.

Inevitable.

Relentless.

Tearful.

Excuse me while I blink.

Larry Brody is an author, veteran television writer and producer. He, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination, however, and any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Originally published March 5, 2010

Live! From Paradise! #215

Friday, June 19th, 2009

Our Ford pickup spent a few days at Steve’s Body Shop recently, and when Gwen the Beautiful and I retrieved it, lo and behold! I found myself very happy about a couple of things.

The first thing that brought a smile to my face was the sight of the truck in all its renewed glory. Steve had done a great job of getting rid of all the dents, dings and scratches caused when a tree fell down onto our camper shell during the ice storm. And there was even an added bonus: The paint matches perfectly.

The second joyful moment came with the realization that Gwen and I didn’t have to drive around in the stripped down mini-vehicle that the insurance company had rented for the four days the truck was gone. I don’t like kicking anyone while he’s down, but, come on, Dodge, do you really expect humans to ride in a Caliber?

As Gwen and I were deciding who would drive which vehicle while we headed over to the car rental agency, a couple of Good Ole Boys we didn’t know drove up. I don’t intentionally listen to other people’s conversations, but that doesn’t mean I don’t overhear them. Maybe it’s a survival thing — or, more likely, a writer one — but I’m usually pretty well attuned to what’s being said around me.

The topic of conversation between these Ole Boys wasn’t the car one of them was picking up. Instead it was his wife.

“Whew,” one of them said. “We’re picking up this baby just in time. I’ve got to go to Jonesboro tomorrow, and Edie’ll need the ride.”

“How long you gonna be gone this time?” I heard his friend say.

“Three weeks. Not long enough.”

“You two having trouble?” the friend said.

“What? No, no, I don’t mean it that way. I mean that I can’t make enough money in three weeks. Last time I made the Jonesboro run I had six weeks of 10-hour days. Those were some nice paychecks.”

“Hey, this’ll be better’n nothing, won’t it?”

The friend was trying to be a cheerleader, but his voice sounded troubled. The first man spoke up quickly. “There’s a job for you somewhere, Matt, you’ll see.”

They went into the office, so I didn’t hear Matt’s reply, if there was one. Didn’t see his face. But I understood his situation. And that of Edie’s husband as well.

The economy had struck again.

Gwen has the gift of being able to stick to a subject. Of being in one conversation at a time. Her conversation. She looked at me closely.

“Larry? Sweetie, what happened to your smile? Do you know you just went blank?”

I answered her question with one of my own. “Have you talked to Rachel lately? Her husband still out of town?”

“As far as I know. Working construction in Springfield. He’s been gone a couple of months.”

“How does she feel about that? About him having to be away in order to earn a living?” I asked.

“The way I would,” Gwen said. “Or so I imagine. She’s never said anything except that there’s nothing here and they’ve got a mortgage to pay.”

“Dwayne the Earth Mover’s been working out of town for years. He and Elizabeth only see each other every other weekend. I’ve never heard him complain, either.”

“We’re not in Hollywood anymore, honey,” Gwen said. “Nobody’s giving out golden statuettes and big paychecks for farming or driving a bulldozer. Diva behavior gets a person nothing but a kick in the pants.

“Our neighbors do what they’ve got to do,” she went on. “They learned long ago to do it without complaining.”

“And you know this because — ?”

“Because I’m from Oklahoma, where it’s the same life.”

“Hey, I met you in Santa Monica, if you recall.”

“Where I was miserable. But you didn’t hear me complaining.”

Gwen pulled herself up into the truck. “Meet you at the car place,” she said and started the engine.

Couldn’t let her get too far ahead. I hurried back to the little Caliber, fumbled for the key. The time might come when, like too many other couples, we had to be apart in order to survive, but the thought of that ever happening made me want to do everything I could to stay as close as I could for now.

I’m not complaining, not now. But if life ever takes us that way, then, by all I believe in, I swear I’m going to make one hell of a stink!

Larry Brody is an author, veteran television writer and producer and creative director of Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts. He, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination, however, and any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Originally published June 19, 2009