A Pleasant Encounter

Something nice happened while Dad was picking up dinner at Maui Taco's the other night. (He was alone because my balance was too unsteady for me to go in with him.)

Dad was struggling with trying to carry dinner while walking with the crutch these days, when a boy about ten came up to him, and said he'd like to carry the bag for Dad. Then a woman came up as the boy's grandmother, and repeated that they'd like to help by carrying his bag.

Dad thanked them, and accepted their help. They walked with him out to the car. The boy carried our dinners, and put them in the trunk of our car when Dad opened it up.

As they left, the grandmother said "God bless you."

Dad replied in kind.

Dad says where else would that happen besides Hilo? I don’t know, but it happened here, and it lightened a difficult day when it did. J

Anne Elizabeth Baldwin

Visiting Dad's Cousin, Part 2

The next morning after dealing with the skunks at Dad's cousin's place, I went down to have breakfast in the main house. Getting there, I walked in on an interesting conversation. Dad’s cousin was beginning to lecture her husband’s granddaughter. Apparently she was here for the summer in part to work for her Grandpa and Dad’s cousin. {pause} You see, Dad’s cousin was such a great animal lover, she not only fed skunks, she raised animals for a living. Specifically, she and her husband raised epileptic mice in a home laboratory they ran. They ran their own experiments on them, and also sold them to other researchers. Apparently their mice were somewhat prized because their epilepsy was closer to human epilepsy in several key measures than most epileptic lab mice at that time (mid-1980’s).

The lab was actually pretty interesting, as I learned later, when the granddaughter gave me a tour later. The mice were kept in drawer-like cages on one wall. To get in, you simply pulled out the cage and reached in from above. There was also a large table in the middle, where they could work with the mice, and a counter off to one side with a fish tank set up as an observation tank complete with a video camera, so you could put a mouse in, start the video camera, and get about two hours of observation on tape.

Anyway, the granddaughter was staying with them so she could work as a lab assistant for them for her summer job. There had been a problem in the lab the previous day. The granddaughter had put a mouse in the observation tank and set the video camera to record. You could see her leave thru the door at the beginning of the tape. A short while later, the door opened again, and one of Dad’s cousin’s four Siamese cats jumped up on the counter. It was “Ghirry,” which was short for Ghiradelli, one of my cousin’s favorite chocolate companies. Ghirry wasted no time at all on the wall full of cat-proof cages. He went straight to the fish tank with it’s open top. He checked inside, found the mouse, picked it up in his mouth, and left. That mouse, of course, was never seen again. {Smile, wink}

“Well, if you’re upset as Ghirry,” the granddaughter started to say.

“No. We are not upset at Ghirry,” Dad’s cousin corrected, “Ghirry was just behaving like a cat. He was just following his instincts. He didn’t do anything wrong. You left the door open,” and Dad’s cousin began describing the extra chores the granddaughter needed to do because of this oversight.  

I was really impressed with her attitude. So was Dad. It’s nice to see that someone understands that are some things you just don’t train some animals not to do; you don’t train a cat not to hunt mice. {REALLY BIG GRIN}

Anne Elizabeth Baldwin

Visiting Dad’s Cousin, Part 1

Dad’s Aunt, Wilmar Shiras, wrote a book called “Children of the Atom” that’s a bit of a science fiction classic. Dad claims that it was inspired in part by watching her children struggle to fit in at school. The eldest of her children was very close to Dad’s age. That’s the one Dad is close to, so that’s the one I know.

As I said before, this cousin and her husband used to live in a residential neighborhood with an unusual number of wild animals right in the neighborhood. At least it seemed that way to me when Dad and I visited when I was a teenager. {Smile}

I also mentioned that she started leaving dogfood out for the raccoons, because she is a great animal lover. Then the skunks found out and took over. Most people I know would stop leaving out dogfood at this point. Not Dad’s cousin. She continued to leave dogfood out for the skunks for years. I always did wonder what the neighbors thought of this. {wink, Smile}

That was all before I got there. By the time I did, Dad had visited twice without me: once when she was leaving out dogfood for the raccoons, and once when she was leaving it out for the skunks already. By the time I got to visit, too, the skunks were Very Well Settled In. When I visited, one of the first things I was told that I would be sharing a small apartment with Dad’s cousin’s husband’s granddaughter by his first marriage, who was staying with them all summer, and working for them in their laboratory as a summer job.

After dinner and whatever we did afterwards, I was ready to go up tot he apartment to get ready for bed. The route from the main house to the apartment went right past the skunk’s food bowls, but I was told not to worry. Just walk firmly, and they shouldn’t bother me. Well, I found the bowls... and skunk planted right in the middle of the pathway I was supposed to use.

I froze, startled.

The skunk stared at me, showing no fear.

Remembering they’d said the skunks shouldn’t bother me, I started forward hesitantly.

The skunk went thump-thump-thump-thump-thump with his front paws.

I froze.

I’d recently read or heard (I remembered which back then) that skunks did a kind of stamping gesture as a warning before spraying, because they didn’t like the odor any more than anyone else did. This must be what they meant.

I turned around and walked briskly back to the main house. There I found Dad’s cousin’s husband. I told him about the skunk.

“What? Don’t worry about the skunks,” he said.

“But he stamped at me, and that’s supposed to be warning.”

“Just shoo them off. They won’t bother you.”

“You know how to do that. I don’t!” I told him, “Please help me. You said you would.”

“Oh, for crying out... come on, and keep up.”

He stormed out of the house and up the walk, shooing away the skunks very firmly when he reached the bowls.

I did follow him... at least 20 paces behind him. I hoped that was enough distance if he was wrong about the skunks...

He wasn’t. They left promptly for him, and he escorted me right up to the door of the apartment. I thanked him profusely, of course. {BRIGHT SMILE}

Then he left. I actually didn’t have trouble with the skunks after that. Maybe my escort that first night put me on their approved list or something. But I didn’t get sprayed, and that was the important thing as far as I was concerned. {wink, BIG GRIN}

Anne Elizabeth Baldwin

Dad's Frog

I wrote this up to swap with a friend for a frog story of hers. I thought I'd share it here, too. {Smile}

A few years ago, Dad was sitting on the patio in back of church for “This isn’t tea, it’s Lunch!” (as Father Moki re-named it). Anyway, he was just sitting there when he felt something land on his shoulder. Before he could turn to try to see what it was, it lifted...

...and a frog appeared on the table in front of him. It was a bright rusty orange, which was a extra surprise. It didn’t stay long before it jumped off to goodness knows where next, but he left quite a strong impression on my father. Dad did not expect to see a frog at church. He did not expect a frog to land on his shoulder. He certainly didn’t expect to see an orange frog. Yet this frog did all of that at once. It was a coquui, the frog from Puerto Rico that’s taken over the nighttime soundscape unless it’s too cool. The coquui who came here are all rust colored, somewhere between orange rust and brown rust. Dad’s coquui was definitely at the bright orange end of the spectrum. {wink, Smile}

Anne Elizabeth Baldwin