Category Archives: small town USA

HOPPY WINS THROUGH

Wendy and Jack flew to Albuquerque this week. They may be a little tired.

The weather out of Denver was windy. Very windy. Hoppy, the bunny conferred with his colleagues Cortez the sea turtle, and Peachy the red fox. All three graced the tails of Frontier aircraft, but only Hoppy’s was scheduled to go.

The raccoon wasn’t there

“It’s windy,” said Hoppy, his ears laid back.

“No shit,” said Cortez. “You still gonna fly?”

“Gotta get these passengers to Albuquerque.” Hoppy’s nose twitched in the general direction of the people shuffling onto the plane, clutching bags and hats against the breeze.

“Well,” said Peachy.

“Nice knowing you,” Cortez added.

The plane took off, almost immediately jacking sideways against the currents. Inside the cabin, a child began to wail. Hoppy folded his paws and waited.

The flight was only 56 minutes. As the craft reached cruising altitude, the turbulence eased. The child ceased screaming. Hoppy breathed a sigh of relief. So did the passengers.

With twenty minutes to go, the pilot sent the flight attendants a message: fasten in, it’s going to be a rough landing. The chief flight attendant told the passengers that if they wanted to go to the bathroom using an actual toilet, now was the time and that would be appreciated because otherwise they would have to clean the seat if they didn’t. The passengers were not amused, but several with small children got up and were promptly sent back to their seats because federal aviation regulations prevent queueing at the lavatory while in the sky.

Hoppy watched everyone buckle in. His nose sniffed the wind. And pee from a couple of children who hadn’t made it.

The plane’s nose dipped. Hoppy squatted on his haunches, a look of steely determination on his face.

“How’s it going?” Peachy’s voice came in through Hoppy’s antenna ears.

“Looking grim. I’ll see them through, Peachy.”

“You always do,” said Peachy. In the background, Cortez the turtle sang “Sooooo long, it’s been good to know ya.”

Inside, the passengers began to tighten their belts and look nervously out the window. Hoppy turned his ears toward the control tower and heard “… too much crosswind so circle around.”

The plane banked sharply left. Inside, the child began screaming again.

Hoppy hunched over the wing, gripping tightly with his paws. “I’ll see them through, no matter what,” he muttered, and began to battle the wind. Left, right, up, down, his paws flexed flaps and pulled levers, ears flat against his head, whiskers pointing due north.

The plane descended, hit an air pocket, and bounced. The screaming child was joined by several passengers.

“Fuck,” said Hoppy, and regained his footing, using his lucky rabbit feet.

A final dip, a swift correction, and the plane bounced once on the runway. Hoppy pulled hard on the brake, whiskers and ears flat against the wind. The plane stopped. The child stopped screaming. So did most of the passengers.

Hoppy wiped sweat from his furred brow and adjusted his ears.

“Everything all right over there?” Peachy’s voice came in loud and clear.

“Just peachy, Peachy. I got them safely in.”

“You always do, Hoppy,” Peachy said.

In the background, Cortez spoke. “We said a fiver, you cheater. Pay up.”

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Filed under bad writing, book reviews, humor, small town USA, Uncategorized, Wendy Welch

A Beautiful, Brief Community

Decisions were made.

The early morning water class I joined in January attracted five women. We circled in the shallow end of the pool and did the pendulum swing, rockette kick, and cross country skis to the soft music of a CD so memorized we sang the lyrics of Jesse’s Girl while doing jumping jacks.

deep

And we talked to each other. In January we were five individuals keeping New Year’s resolutions. By February we were allies, chatting nine to the dozens as our fearless instructor Kim deftly inserted “inside ankle” between discussions.

One was a retired teacher, widowed. One took care of her Alzheimer’s mother, who thought her daughter was a rival for her husband (who was married to the daughter, not the mom). One was navigating family trauma, the pillar to which the rest clung as they tried to sort things out.

By March, we needed each other. The morning class became the high point of my exercise week. On other days I cycled strong (350 calories burned per class!) Zumba-ed with laughter and sweat, kick boxed shouting names at the bag. It was all nice, but the reward was going to that Tuesday morning women’s swimming circle.

In April, we were notified that low attendance would lead to changes. In May, the class was just like every other thing the gym does. The spontaneous community that moved from skimming the surface to deep water became an aquatics aerobics class where the music pumped as we were urged to give it our all.

A different kind of give, the one the gym is set up for. Mission drift, increased class attendance, all that had to be taken into account. The gym is there so people can exercise. Decisions were made, in keeping with its mission and presumably its financial needs.

But oh, what I would give to have that quiet Tuesday morning community back, five women swinging in time to the rhythm of our shared life stories, unparalleled strength, giving it our all in the most true sense of those words.

Nothing golden can stay. Sometimes, nothing aqua blue can stay. Life goes on.

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Filed under blue funks, Life reflections, small town USA, Uncategorized, Wendy Welch