Another Day in the Country
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
"Oh, no! There's a strange car stopping in front of our house," said my sister, peering cautiously out of the corner of the screen door Saturday morning. "You've got to be kidding, We're in no shape for company."
I stood in the middle of the kitchen which looked like it had been visited by a tornado. The one small counter was stacked with dishes that needed to be washed. The center island was covered with cucumbers and tomatoes I'd just picked from the garden and heaped with odds and ends that we'd carried from other parts of the house. We'd been cleaning — in fact it was more than just cleaning. We'd been rearranging, clearing out, redoing, refining, and the kitchen was the last bastion of clutter.
Earlier in the day Jess said, "This house is in need of some serious Feng Shui," So we'd embarked. The last challenge was the kitchen and here I stood in the mess looking out through the screen door as the doors of the strange car opened and two ladies emerged and started walking toward me. Truth be told, I was in need of some serious Feng Shui myself.
Feng Shui, by the way, is the California version of spring cleaning. It's the oriental belief that what surrounds you — your environment — effects the quality and experiences of your life.
I'd climbed out of bed this morning, going from one small task to the next and hadn't even looked in a mirror. My usual habit patterns of combing by hair and putting on a little make-up had been by-passed, Instead we'd begun this rejuvenation of our living environment and now I stood in the last of the mess, hair disheveled, old T-shirt, faded sarong tied around my waist, barefoot. "Just bite the bullet," I said to myself as I opened the kitchen door and greeted the strangers. "Hi, what can I do for you?"
"Are you one of the California girls?" the stranger asked. "Yes," I answered with a chuckle. "I'm Pat."
"Well, I'm from the Napa Valley and I read your columns in the Marion County Record and I just had to see for myself what someone looked like who left California to come to Kansas."
"A mess?" I queried, grinning. "Well, it looks to me like you've just brought a little California with you," my guest said with a smile as she surveyed our little cottage with flowers marching past the picket fence and a cartoon cow in the front yard. If California, with its "go west young man allure" and Gold Rush charm looks like a little lust for adventure, I guess we do fit the bill.
Seems our guest had grown up in the Pilsen area. Seems that she couldn't wait to leave. Seems that she'd headed for Topeka and a civil service job right out of high school and never looked back. Seems she was now back visiting the country for her 60th high school class reunion. We were amazed as her story unfolded. Her quest for life took her from Topeka to Washington, D.C., to Guam, and eventually to California. She was amazed as we recounted bits of our story that took us from Kansas to California, and back again to Kansas roots.
"Don't you miss California and the city?" our guest wanted to know. We had to admit that we did — on occasion. "We were in Denver a week or two ago," we said, "and we were quite overwhelmed by all the choices: a steak house, camera shop, hair dresser, grocery store, drug store, cleaners, ice-cream shop, clothing store, shoe store, copy center, natural foods, a bakery, Chinese food, and McDonalds in one block! We were looking for a Ross's discount store and when we found it, we were like addicts going for a fix." We all laughed.
"But would we trade all the city folderol for another day in the country? You bet!"
