Chain link fence

A chain link fence separated our backyard from the neighbors, but it might as well have been a moat.  The six foot wall of metal mesh discouraged any conversation with the occupants of the house next door and the children were never invited to play at our house.

In the 1960's the house was occupied by the family of Herman Schmidt, the school janitor.  Most of the family consisted of skinny blond boys, except for Martha and Mary, pale young girls with white blond hair streaked with yellow.  More reserved and civilized than the volatile male residents of the house, Martha and Mary seemed to look after each other.

Our family never had anything good to say about the Schmidts, and we considered ourselves to be higher on the social scale, despite our modest circumstances.  As Martha and Mary observed us though the chain link fence,  I wonder what they were thinking about our family. 

And what of those key events that form the family lore from Haughville. Were Martha and Mary at home that sunny afternoon when Mr. Schmidt threatened to shoot my mother?  Were they asleep that summer night when their father torched the house with the children inside?

Last year, my sister saw Martha and Mary at a funeral.  While at least one of the Schmidt boys had done time, the girls had grown up to be normal women, married with children, managing their lives.

The chain link fence of our childhood was installed over compacted soil the consistency of concrete. Over the years a honeysuckle vine threaded itself up the fence, probably rooted in organic matter that collected in a small fertile pocket, perhaps where the fence post met the garage.  Each spring the vine bloomed with white blossoms streaked with yellow, with a sweet fragrance that lasted only a few days.

Sometimes in the most deprived of environments there is just enough goodness to get by.

Warman Avenue

The maples and hickories that lined Warman Avenue spread their branches broadly above the pavement like a deep green umbrella.  We walked on the sidewalk, sheltered from the bright sun, past tidy white houses with wide brick porches.

The route around the block was familiar, the only permitted outing beyond the backyard. We turned the corner onto St. Clair and walked on the concrete sidewalk into the treeless space beside the three story red brick building, the Catholic elementary school.  Sunlight glared from overhead and bounced up from the pavement at our feet.

I caught a glimpse of a quick movement to my side.  Startled, I feared it was a stray and rabid dog. Instead, it was a tall thin boy with short hair the color of ashes, passing us on the sidewalk. 

Oh, I thought you were a dog.

The boy took offense at this remark.  He moved close to me and balled up his fists close to his chest.  He pounded my arm. 

I  looked at Betty.  She was only 5 and I was responsible for her protection.  

Run home. 

But she stood there, small and alone, staring at me with a sad kitten face.

Eventually the boy moved on, and Betty and I made our way home.  She said nothing about our adventure.

A few weeks later, I saw that same boy at Mass, sitting with Patty Rutherford and her parents.  A few weeks later I  heard that he had been killed, hit by a car while crossing the street.

Even at 8, I knew these events were not causal, yet they remained connected. Fifty years later, I spoke about this incident to my sister, but she had no memory.

Whether the encounter on St. Clair was reality or not, I often wish I had never left the verdant embrace of the tall green trees on Warman Avenue.

Turgor

The peace lily (Spathiphyllum) came to our house DOA after a fairly successful year at college, followed by a single afternoon in a hot car on a summer day. I scissored off the crisp brown leaves and left the crown to resurrect in the cool of the kitchen, where it convalesced with the wandering Jews under fluorescent lights.

In March, we adopted a plant-eating dog so I moved the poisonous peace lily to our bedroom.  On top of the dresser, it is out of reach of the dog and out of sight of the plant waterer.

This morning, I found the peace lily in the winter sunlight.

After some rainwater, the plant revived, except for the flowers.

Peace lilies bounce back quickly after wilting, with no apparent damage.  Garden plants with this same ability include hydrangea and impatiens.  There is a word for this bouncebackability, but I cannot recall it nor find it online.  

However, I discovered a piece from an academic journal that proved viagra benefits plants by improving their turgor, or stiffness caused by water uptake.

The peace lily is resilient.  When stressed it copes by drooping, but when given extra resources -- rainwater -- it readily bounces back.  Sometimes the experience of stress enables a steeling effect, but that rarely happens in the plant world.

We admire those who are strong, but not everyone can be tough.  And yet those who do not appear to bear up under adversity can be resilient. It helps if someone provides more resources.