I planned on writing up a post for Saturday, but things changed fast.
I headed home and puttered about repairing my boots, washing the work clothes and tending to my foot rot. Then things snow balled fast. Darlin sent me a series of terrified messages through her cell phone-- she was trapped on a bridge boxed in by riot police. We went back and forth as I tried to calm her down, she was justifiably panicked. Then the messages stopped. I was beside myself worrying. Hours passed as I chained cigarettes on the porch, calling every single person I knew in the city-- hoping somebody could tell me something, anything about what happened. Then news started to trickle through the internet-- 700 people arrested on the bridge where Darlin was trapped. I flipped into a frenzy.
I met Gizzie and his girlfriend for a drink we'd planned on all week. Except I couldn't sit around any longer. Gizzie bought me a beer as I told them what was itching me. I took my leave, packed a bag, grabbed a few hundred dollars out of the rainy day fund and got into the car-- I was going to the city. It was late, but I made arrangements with a good friend to crash at her apartment. I drove.
On the long highway I started to rethink the whole wild ride-- then I thought of Darlin handcuffed up in a prison cell somewhere. The thought nearly gave me a simultaneous heart attack and stroke from rage. No stops, no slowing down-- it was all speed, rage and every horrible possibility playing through my head.
I pulled into the city at 1:45am. I parked my car and ran to meet my friend-- tossed down my crap on her couch. She couldn't believe the situation was real, but said first things first. We headed over to a bar to cool my head with liquor and talk things over. My friend tried to take my mind off the panic-- but I stewed. I kept thinking-- here I am trying to comfort myself while Darlin's rotting/weeping in a cell somewhere. I couldn't handle the bar for another second-- sucked down my pint in a breath and stomped out. Then I finally got through to Darlin's father.
He'd found her and was at the precinct where she was being processed-- and best yet, she was due to be released within the hour. I ran to the subway, but didn't know where to go-- I'm no city man. Darlin's father called again, she was free and he said to meet at her apartment. It was 4:30am. I collected my things from my friend's apartment and we ran down to Darlin's street. We found an open store-- I bought ten bouquets of flowers and 2 of the classiest 6 packs of beer they had. All that was left was to wait. My friend and I camped out on Darlin's stoop.
After a half hour or so, they pulled up. I squeezed Darlin till she nearly broke. But she was fine and in fantastic spirits. The women in jail with her were sweethearts and it was more of a braiding/chatting party than a night in prison. I piled her with flowers-- we broke out the beers and toasted again and again. Darlin's father and I had a few cigarettes outside-- he'd received a message seconds before Darlin was arrested, he dropped everything and took off for the city too. He waited for 6 hours at the precinct while the police tried to figure out what to do with 700 people. It was good to see him and we were all smiles.
Darlin was exhausted, had a borderline case of hypothermia and starved. It was food, warmth and time for bed.
So Darlin was arrested for marching with the city. She was kettled in, quick-tied and left to sit in the rain on the bridge as the police fetched buses to ferry them off for processing. She and all the others waited in cells while the police figured out their business. Originally, all 700 were to receive criminal charges-- but it became apparent that the city didn't have the resources to manage such a fiasco (they're struggling as it is, hardly able to keep up with arrests/processing/paperwork/trials for serious crime). So they were all given traffic violation tickets. Whew-- it worked out somehow.
Darlin couldn't believe that I came down, though she seemed awful happy to see me. We spent Sunday patching her back together and talking everything over. Then it was time for me to get driving.
I got home around midnight-- just enough time to meet Gizzie for a late night drink. At "The End" bar, I told him everything that'd happened-- he seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all. We drank and went home.
Back to Work.
It started sunny this morning, then dark clouds and cold air blew in from the south. Temperature made the lower 70Fs before noon, but dipped hard to the upper 50Fs.
Newport was a mess this morning. He was pale as a ghost, sweaty and spitting out yellow oysters every other minute. The boss sent Newport home the second he laid eyes on him. The boss asked him-- what are you doing, coming in half alive like this? Newport sounded like a ghost when he said-- Just trying to keep the bills paid boss.
Gizzie, the foreman, Old Rudolpho, his nephew and I spent a few hours down in the barn polishing the last remaining buckets of tomatoes lingering from the weekend. Then it was time for picking. We all shipped up to the forest field to pick string beans. Gizzie and I set down in the wax beans, we crept along talking madness and bullshit-- we finished the long row just in time for lunch.
The boss's daughter was very upset at the store. We ate our sandwiches as she told us that her father had made her scrub potatoes-- she like that one bit and wanted us to do it instead. We laughed and kept eating. Fortunately fate intervened-- excusing us from being potato slaves.
The boss rolled up midway through lunch. He yelled us over, he said-- cows got out. Gizzie and I hopped into the back of the van and we sped over to the pasture.
I saw the big cow right away-- trotting off into the woods. Then I saw her calf laying down relaxing in the brush. We fanned out-- the boss and Gizzie stood between the cow/calf and the road, while I circled wide around them through the woods. The boss told me to take it slow and easy so as not to spook 'em into doing something crazy. I strolled over logs and though a marsh, then drove the mama cow back toward the gate. Everything was going so well--until the calf got spooked. It took off toward the boss and Gizzie, doubled back toward me in a panic and then leaped through the barbed wire fence. This was my first time wrangling cows-- in the Spring I kicked them away from bonfires, but that was pretty straight forward. I should have ran at the mama cow-- getting her mind off the calf and driving her to the gate. Instead, I kept up my fast stroll
trying not to spook it-- the mama took off after the calf. Leaping straight into the barbed wire fence. A calf is spry and small-- a cow is not. She tore through, but her hind legs got jumbled in the wire. The cow kicked and struggled. After some tense minutes, she gave another leap and broke free.
The boss was pissed. Luckily the fence wasn't broken and the cow was only scratched up a little. He told me I should have run, so now I know.
Back at the store, Gizzie and I grabbed buckets, then headed back to the beans. We finished the wax and started the green beans. With Old Rudolpho, his nephew and the foreman we cleared the rows in a few more hours' picking. Onto the next order of business.
We loaded 50 buckets into the tractor and rode up to the hilltop-- it was tomato time. I chatted with the foreman for a bit as we looked over the broccoli, cabbage and brussel sprouts (doesn't look like they'll grow fast enough for a crop, just like last year). Then to business. We filled the 50 buckets easily, the foreman grabbed another 20 and we marched the rows until closing time.
The sun is sinking earlier and earlier. The cold is settling down for longer. It sure is Fall.
What a series of days it has been. Nothing to do but hunker down and pull hard until the season's close. We all know our time is coming soon enough-- not enough to do over winter for all of us. So it's time to plan and wait.
Take it easy.
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