The Muse: Tangled-up in Bob Wire

Every once in a while, researchers and writers hit a brick wall or get tangled up in bob wire. Their ability to find a solution or their creative thinking process comes to a screeching halt. It happens mostly when we’re trying too hard, thinking about it too much. Then again, sometimes “life” happens, there’s too much on our plate, and all our plans go awry. Have you ever had that happen? I have. Sometimes if I take a step back, take a deep breath, and relax by doing something completely unrelated, I can clear my mind and move forward again. I wonder. When that happens do you think it’s a “growing pain”, part of a transformation process as we morph into something else, something different, than we once were? Hmmm…

It was New Year’s Eve; the temperature was in the low fifties, and it’d been pouring the rain all day. Looking out my dining room window I saw a mockingbird perched on a wooden post of the barbed wire fence down below the house. There he sat with his head cocked, one eye looking up toward the sky, just singing his heart out. The rain didn’t seem to bother him. It was a dreary oppressive kinda day with this rain and all. You know, one of those days when the damp and chill go right through you no matter what you got on; right down to the bone, making you shiver. What could that mockingbird be singing about in all this mess I wondered.

Around here we call barbed wire “bob wire”, pronounced bob wure. It’s two strands of wire twisted together to form a cable that has knots of thorny barbs every so often. Tattoos of bob wire, mostly seen on ex-cons, remind me of a crown of thorns, symbolizing the pain and suffering it can inflict. Mostly bob wire is used as fencing to keep livestock in a field more so than running at an inward angle atop high chain-link fences or walls to imprison folk.

Let me tell you, it’s quite painful getting tangled up on those barbs going through a fence. They can shred not only your clothes but rip the hide right off you! Just ask any ole country boy who was about to get caught doing something he ought not have, then tried escaping through a bob wire fence while on the run. Not that I have any experience in making the bob wire sing mind you.

The downside of bob wire is that it can kill an animal tangled up in it. I’ve seen it! Struggling to free themselves in a panic, that wire can wrap around an animal like a snake, its barbed teeth clamping down, holding, and chewing an animal to pieces as its coils tighten around them, causing them to bleed out or die of panic and fear. We’ve lost a few foals that way. Tragic and sad. Not a good way to go!

The rain just kept coming down, overflowing the gutters, and splashing out of the rain barrel by the front stoop. It was such a muddy puddled mess that even Short Dog didn’t want to go out to do her business in it. It was gloomy and downright oppressive! I couldn’t concentrate on writing or reading. There was nothing on TV worth watching. Short Dog had curled up on Tami’s brown recliner to sleep and I was vegging. I had to do something to snap out of it. After all, it was New Year’s Eve.

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Tami was in Texas helping her sister settle her late husband’s estate. He had died earlier in the month from Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS), possibly as a result of receiving covid vaccinations and boosters even though he was advanced in age, had cardiopulmonary issues, and other comorbidities. Now Tami was in Austin helping Sis untangle the financial morass and helping get his will probated.

November and December were hectic and stressful months. It all began two days before Thanksgiving when I learned my mom, who was ninety, had cancer. She claimed she had stomach cancer, didn’t have long to live, and demanded we immediately come to Florida to help with her final arrangements. You know how it is when time is running out and you’re trying to get important stuff done “right now, right now”.

To say she wasn’t happy when told we couldn’t just drop what we were doing to run down there is an understatement. Yes, she was alone, scared, and had no one to help her. Several times she had been invited to come live with us but had defiantly refused, steadfastly insisting on her prideful independence. That was her decision. As adults we’re responsible and accountable for our decisions and actions, our life choices, no one else. Can’t go around pointing fingers and pinning our mistakes on someone else. Nothing we could say or do would influence Mom to change her mind. She wouldn’t leave her apartment in Florida. So be it! Not to be mean, unempathetic, or indifferent, I cared and was concerned, but her situation was the culmination of many poor life choices. Now she faced the consequences and there was nothing we could do to mitigate her situation or the inevitable outcome.

Sometimes I wish I had a magic wand or could wiggle my nose or something to change things, or miraculously appear wherever, but I don’t have no wand and I can’t wiggle my nose. I’m only human; one person doing his best to survive one day at a time like everybody else. If happiness is to be had we must find it within ourselves. It’s between us and God, no one else. Regardless of what we say or do someone else will always judge, second guess, squawk, or complain after the fact. It’s easy to do if you’re not saddled with the responsibility or stuck with the consequences of having to decide or do something. They ain’t living your life, haven’t experienced what you have, and sure as hell ain’t paying your bills. At the end of the day, you just do the best you can. When the time comes to stand before God is when you got to answer. You don’t got to answer to no one else before then, so fuck ‘em!

The best we could do was to arrive in Florida on Sunday evening after Thanksgiving. We have a farm with horses and dogs you know. We have responsibilities and commitments. We can’t just pick up and be gone for days on a moment’s notice. Arrangements must be made in advance with neighbors to care for the farm, horses, and outside dogs, and with our daughter to take care of the inside dogs. Extra round bales of hay had to be put out and bags of grain purchased for the horses. Livestock waterers at the barn had to have their functionality checked. Extra dog food needed to be available for the outside dogs, and the two inside dogs taken to our daughter who has a very small place, animals of her own, and is an hour away. In addition, it was a major holiday weekend and traffic would be extraordinarily heavy. What is normally a twelve-hour drive could easily take much longer. We also had to find accommodations as mom was a bit of a hoarder and only had a cluttered one-bedroom apartment. Besides, plans had been made a month earlier for the kids and grandkids to spend Thanksgiving with us. Two large meat chickens we raised and butchered ourselves were being thawed and other food for the big dinner was already prepared. Like it or not, the reality was Mom would just have to wait a few days. It was unlikely her demise would occur before we could get to her.

Simultaneously, our brother-in-law was hospitalized in Texas with ARDS. His cardiopulmonary function and O2 stats were low. He was being treated aggressively, heavily sedated, had a tracheotomy, and was on dialysis. His odds for survival were less than favorable and dropping by the hour. It was a terrible conundrum! What should we do? Should we go to Florida or go to Texas? Either way, flying on short notice during a holiday weekend was not a viable option. We would have to drive either twelve hours to Florida or eighteen hours to Texas. Regardless of our choice, it would be physically, mentally, and emotionally hard on us. We’re not spring chickens anymore either, you know! We couldn’t do it all! I wouldn’t wish such a difficult choice on anyone! Relatives would complain no matter what. Ultimately, we opted to go to Florida to help Mom.

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This incessant rain just wasn’t letting up. It didn’t seem to bother Bear though, our outside Great Pyrenees guardian dog. He lay sleeping, chained under the pine tree next to his straw-filled doghouse, his thick white wet and matted fur caked with mud. When I took Short Dog out to potty Bear lifted his massive head, looked at us and groaned as if to say “oh, it’s you”, and lay back down.

Generally, I don’t like the idea of chaining up a dog, but in Bear’s case we didn’t have much choice. He had previously been kept in a fenced one-acre lot with his sister to guard our large flock of birds. After his sister died, he began climbing over and digging under the hot-wired strands of high tensile and bob wire attached to the split-rail and wove wire paneled fence, getting out, and roaming distant hollers. Sometimes we would get reports and find him miles away. When he got out, he ran a high risk of either getting shot by a good ole boy or killed by a pack of coyotes. He also injured his hips pretty bad a couple of times during his escapes. One more injury just might do him in. Sad.

Unfortunately, with Bear being chained up after his sister died, our birds were left unprotected. In less than two weeks we lost every one of our flock of sixty-some-odd birds to predation. Critters are opportunists you know. They will take advantage of a situation to chow down on an easy meal. Lawd knows we have plenty of opportunists around here, critters like hawks, coons, possums, skunks, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, bear, and even cougar; all of whom consider yard birds as easy pickins and fine dining.

With all the goin’s on since Thanksgiving I was struggling with this thing called writer’s block. I just couldn’t seem to focus on my research and writing or get much of anything done. Tami being gone exacerbated my mental state as I was concerned about both her and Sis, my brother-in-law, as well as Mom. The oppressive fog, rain, and boredom were getting to me. That mockingbird sitting on the bob wire fence just kept his head cocked, eyeballing the sky as if he was looking for something, and singing his fool head off in the pouring down rain.

I had to do something to break the monotony and get out of this depressive funk. Not relishing the thought of being alone on New Year’s Eve, I needed to be with people and get a decent meal. The fast food, hot pockets, TV dinners, and pizza I’d been surviving on since Tami went to Texas just weren’t cutting it. So, I decided to get cleaned up and go out to eat.

It was early afternoon, and the restaurants wouldn’t be too crowded with revelers yet – I hoped. I donned a nice white and blue grid Ralph Lauren shirt, you know, one of those shirts with a little horse embroidered on it and slipped into a clean pair of jeans. My jeans were supported by a brown western themed belt secured with a silver buckle inset with three turquoise stones. The buckle was custom made during a spring trip to Albuquerque and matched a turquoise necklace purchased in Texas the year before. I pulled on my scuffed, beat-up Ariat work boots having traces of horse manure in their separating soles and grabbed my faded brown oil splattered Carthart work coat; its lower sleeves tattered with frayed bob wire punctures and rips from mending fences and such. In my humble opinion, while my expensive shirt, belt buckle and necklace, black Luminox watch, and large gold Masonic Past Master ring may have hinted at money, my scruffy boots, jeans, and coat portrayed the hard-working outdoor character of a farmer more so than the ethos of a red-necked good ole boy. Besides, I wasn’t going out to impress anyone, leastways no one from around here. I just wanted to get out of the house. I was tired of being cooped up like some chicken, wanted to be around people (not socially interact with them), and fill my belly with something warm and good to eat.

Dodging raindrops, I climbed into my white F-150. Avoiding rivulets of water that were etching gullies into our half-mile dirt and gravel driveway, I sloshed my way down our mountain, past a neighborhood of 80s era homes and double-wides, and turned left. Driving east through the fog I contemplated where to eat as the truck’s wipers rhythmically slapped the rain off the windshield. I toyed with the idea of perhaps going to Outback Steakhouse or Cracker Barrel, but they were a good distance away and it meant taking the interstate. Nah, it was too far to go and too risky in this weather, better to stay close to home. I had a hankerin’ for a nice juicy steak and settled on going to Texas Roadhouse; wishing Tami was with me as I don’t like dining out alone.

Texas Roadhouse was remodeling but open. Pulling into the nearly full parking lot there was orange plastic fencing cordoning off an area of excavated dirt mounds where construction was being done. After finding a place to park I went into the restaurant. There were people milling about inside the door and it was busy, but not overly so, and folks were being seated fairly quickly. A smiling young lady at the check-in counter asked how many were in my party, raising an eyebrow and offering a sorrowful look when I replied: “one”. Soon I was guided swiftly through the din of crowded tables and seated along the rail of the raised upper area overlooking the packed sports bar section. Multiple large, flat screen TVs hung on the wall were tuned to football games. One TV was blaring a country music video channel. As a basket of fresh rolls and a plastic cup containing a dollop of honey butter were set on the table, I was informed my server would be right with me.

Although I already knew what I wanted, I scanned through the menu anyway, debating whether or not to get an appetizer of “cactus blossoms” (deep fried sweet onion petals with a tasty ranch dressing-like sauce). It was then, like a heavenly vision, she miraculously appeared out of nowhere! This young, twenty-something girl floated above me at the end of the table with a bright captivating smile. She was of average height, a lithe well-proportioned figure, smooth creamy skin, and big brown eyes. Her long dark brown hair was twisted up in a looped ponytail. For some reason she reminded me of a girl I had briefly dated in high school, only prettier.

It wasn’t that this girl was a raving beauty or anything, her appearance was actually quite average. No, it was something else: her effervescent personality, her shimmering aura. It was like there was this immediate inexplicable divine connection. It was as though I knew her, but I hadn’t met or seen her before and didn’t know her at all. A heaven-sent vision, she embodied a graceful goddess-like omniscient confidence, exuding friendliness, and sincere caring; radiating a positive energy field that attracted my full attention like a magnet. Her very presence assuaged and reinvigorated my sad soul. As she hovered at the end of the table smiling and glowing, ready to take my order, I was resurrected. It felt good to be alive!

“Hi! My name is Mattie. I’ll be your server today. Will anyone else be joining you?” She cheerfully asked.

“Hi! No. I’m here by myself” I stammered, gazing into the depths of her brown stars.

“Awww, that’s sad. It’s New Year’s Eve.” She replied with expressive compassionate frowning sincerity. “Would you like to start off with an appetizer? A cactus blossom?”

“Ummm, no, I’ll pass on an appetizer today, thank you.”

“Ok. What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a sweet tea with lemon, light on the ice.”

“Alright; sweet tea with lemon, light on the ice coming right up. Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?”

A prisoner of those twinkling eyes and winsome smile I responded: “It would be nice to have a six-ounce sirloin.”

“How would you like that cooked?”

“Medium rare, please.”

“And what would you like as your sides?”

“Buttered corn and a house salad; no onions, tomatoes, or cucumbers, with honey mustard dressing, please.”

“Ok. We’re having a six-ounce sirloin, medium rare, corn, a house salad with no onions, tomatoes, or cucumbers, with honey mustard dressing. Can I get you anything else?”

“Ummm, no. I’m good. That will be more than enough. I don’t eat that much.”

“Awww. Ok.” She said compassionately. “I’ll make sure you enjoy a good dinner. I’ll be right back with your sweet tea.”

With a springy step she bounded off to fetch my tea. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Who was this angelic creature who had unexpectedly lit my fire? Yeah, I was gob smacked! Hat es wehgetan, als sie vom Himmel gefallen ist? Als Gott sie machte, wollte er sicherlich angeben. I silently reflected in German, meaning: “Did it hurt when she fell from the sky? When God made her, he surely wanted to show off.” To say that I wasn’t briefly enamored with this nymph would be a lie. I might be a wrinkled, thinning gray-haired old codger, but I’m still human and have feelings.

Quickly I came back to Earth. First and foremost, I was married to Tami, the love of my life. I could not and would not toy further with an idea of being disloyal to her. Also, I was way too old for this girl, perhaps old enough to be her grandfather. If I was forty years younger and unmarried, I might have made a play for her, but doing so now was out of the question. If anything, she probably pitied this old fool dining alone on New Year’s Eve, noting my wedding ring and maybe thinking I was a widower. Perhaps I reminded her of her father, an uncle, a grandfather, or another crepey-skinned gray-haired ancient person she knew. Still, the iridescent energy, the ageless beauty that sprang from this flower of youth was a gift I could appreciate. Such a flower deserved more than a sedate cantankerous old curmudgeon. It was a far better thing to admire God’s gift from afar!

Caught up in my thoughts, Mattie again mysteriously appeared to float at the end of my table as if by magic. “Here’s your sweet tea,” she said smiling, leaning forward to set it on the table. “I’ve put your order in. It should be ready shortly. Is there anything else that I can get for you? More bread?” Our eyes locked in a moment. Mesmerized by whatever spell she cast, I caught my breath, enchanted by the depth of her soul beyond the window of those rich brown irises. My heart was thumping. It was hard to speak. After what seemed an eternity, we disengaged, and I was able to respond weakly with a smile of my own.

“Thank you. No, I’m good for the moment.”

“Ok. If there’s anything you need just let me know.”

I watched in adoration as she bounced away, her ponytail bobbing as she went. Wow! That was intense! To be young again… For some strange reason I fantasized sharing my life’s story with her over coffee. Though she couldn’t see it and didn’t know it, this old man had lived a life worth living; physically, mentally, and emotionally pushing its envelope. I’ve gone out and actually done things most people only read about, see in movies, or dare to dream; a real-life Indiana Jones of sorts combined with Dan Brown’s symbologist character, Robert Langdon. I’ve experienced the peaks of life’s lofty heights and plumbed its darkest depths with my arms raised high, sometimes screaming, riding its rough, noisily clacking wooden rollercoaster. Drawn to the sun, a fading shadow of what I once was, I soon expect to roll into my final destination and my earthly ride will be over. I’ve experienced history firsthand and have many tales to tell, but how could this vivacious young girl suspect, let alone know, that. All she saw was a lonely grizzled old man having dinner alone on New Year’s Eve. If I were to share my life’s adventures with such a young person, would they “get it”, would they benefit and learn from my experiences, my mistakes and failures, my successes? Would it be worth my time and effort? I wondered. Nah. Best to sit back, relax, dream, reminisce, and savor the beauty of the moment.

Mattie came by to check on me a few times as I mentally blocked out the hubbub of excessively loud country music and overtalking conversations, ruminated, and quietly ate. She was a professional who provided prompt, friendly, high-quality service. Indeed, Texas Roadhouse was fortunate to have her on their staff. Truly, she was a gifted sweetheart, a rare flower, a fragrant breath of fresh air. I was fortunate to have had her as a server. Her cheerful demeanor had revived and reinvigorated me, drawing me out of my funk. Her compassionate grace and beauty were what I needed. Mattie was an unwitting inspiration, a Muse.

After dinner I returned home sated, fed our stalled stallion, filled the water trough, and fed the outside dogs. Short Dog did her zoomies with the speed of a greyhound, burning off pent up energy as she raced full speed in loops around the yard. I spoke with Tami on the phone for a little bit then watched The Snows of Kilimanjaro, starring Gregory Peck as Harry Street, that recounts the memories of a disillusioned writer suffering from an infected wound while on safari in Africa. Memories. Clouded memories of past lives and adventures crept in as I drifted into the deep fog of a dream-filled sleep…