Whoa there team!
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
We got into one of those "WORK PROJECTS" this week that seemed to take on a life of its own. In the beginning, it was going to just be a painting-the-walls kind-of-thing. Then my sister lifted a stained patch of one of those lowered ceiling tiles and we knew that we'd had it! Our one evening paint job at the bank was going to take a lot more time, if we were going to come anywhere near "doing this right." (Which we do like to approximate every once in a while.)
Tool Time Tim gave us an opinion and some instructions about tearing down that ceiling. "Start at one edge," he said, "It will come down in no time."
Well, I sorta started at an edge — but we'd already removed some of the tile in the middle as we made our decision as to whether or not to proceed. All it took was one vital piece of support aluminum to be removed and all of a sudden big chunks of ceiling tile came tumbling down and aluminum supports were flying everywhere. "I'm getting out of here," said Tim who already was heading for the door, "You're dangerous." I knew, even as it happened, and while we were all still laughing, that the story about the speed of our demolition project would be repeated and laughed at more than once — it also would reinforce the notion that I'm too impatient. Ah, well, it's a reputation I deserve.
As we worked late into the evening, there was a rap at the window and there stood our friends Paula and Warren. We invited them inside and before you know it we were all standing in the middle of the room laughing, again. That's what I love about the country — all the smiles that are shared and people just dropping by to see what you are doing because either nothing much is going on or everyone can see pretty much what you are doing and they want to cheer you on.
Warren told us that once he had owned this building. We hadn't known. And then he told us the story about the coon getting into that lowered ceiling that we had just removed. "It came in through the chimney there," he pointed at the bottom of the coffee can protruding from the stove vent, "In fact, I think I put that can there, to keep out any more intruders" he said with a grin.
"Did you know that the pillar out in front of the door is newer than the rest of the building?" he asked, still smiling. We told him that we had heard the story about the truck that got away driverless from in front of Betty's Café and came rolling down to the bank. "I always have teased her about that," Warren said with another chuckle, "and then she teased me about the time I was trying to round up Sandra's goat that got away here in town. And about that time I remind her that she's the only woman I know that blew out a spare tire when it wasn't even on the wheel."
All too soon, our friends head for home and we decide to call it a night, too. Our work project will be waiting for us another day. As we head for home, we're still grinning about the stories we've just heard. We can just imagine a properly dressed and rather dignified Warren chasing an errant goat down the streets of Ramona and our friend Betty heading for town with a truck load of wheat with the spare tire dangling down until it blew out.
There's a song that keeps playing on the radio that says, "It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you. It's what you leave behind you when you go."
In Ramona, former inhabitants have left behind a lot of stories that I hope never cease to be told. It keeps people alive in our memories. It's another day in the country and I'm busy writing all those stories down.
