Norma C Plummer Stories
READING
SNACKS One
Retirement Home: What's on the minds of folks this morning?
One is expecting full service from staff to be provided on the
Thanksgiving holiday. "Why not?" they say .
Another expresses a desire to explore the remaining fine old houses in
the district.
The Activities Director explains she is trying to break in a new pair of
shoes - very sophisticated high-heal ones - for a special occasion.
One nods off as usual.
I stare at the basket of fruit.
The pair of birds make no comment. They’ll wait to interrupt later on
with their twitterings. The QUIZ session begins.
A dainty sparrow is standing in the water that had settled on the flat
roof after last night's rain.
Now the bird begins to flutter its wings, and dip under for a quick
bath. Then it flits forward to the dry ledge before flying off.
I say to myself: ‘Would you like a towel?’
.
While waiting for traffic to clear, I had time to notice a heavy set
woman sitting on her door sill, where her body could prop open her storm
door. Her thick short legs hung down over the two steps of her frame
cottage, painted a cream colour. Her home was a perfect example of what
a young child would draw, a house with a centre door and a pair of
windows, one on each side.
Later I wondered if this commercial area, happened to swallow up her
place for development, she might find one with a porch.
The delicate-looking lady wearing a mauve sweater, left her room, gently
closing her door.
As she moved carefully down the hallway, I noticed her timidity. Why
couldn't she walk with enough confidence to show that she thought
herself to be a worthwhile person? How would she react if confronted
with some large blustering passerby? Would she cower against the wall?
No doubt she will live to tell her tale another day, but why not be a
somebody today. ‘You’re worth it,’ as they advertise.
How could this happen?
The woman seated beside me in the auditorium made the very same comment
at the very same time as I did.
The Steinway grand was being moved centre stage for the Piano Concerto,
when the piano received a noticeable jolt from some flaw in the stage
floor.
We both said together: ‘There goes the tuning!’
The professional musician played the running accompaniment to Bach's
well known. ‘Jesu Joy’ on the piano in such a methodical manner with no
rhythm, only the correct notes being plunked out.
Even a serious amateur could have done better. Must have been his off
day; or day off.
Is that really a disembodied head showing above the back of the organ
console? The head looks as if it might belong to a teenage boy. It must
be alive, but all one can see is this pale face framed with thick black
hair. What an eerie appearance!
The things you see in church!
TENDER MOMENTS
the hand placed on your shoulder by a friend passing your chair.
the fireman patiently stooping: down to administer oxygen to a
family pet rescued from a fire scene.
a child rescued from some disaster being handed down to the
waiting arms of a huge officer below. The gentle smile on his
face at the sweetness of life.
someone remembers to acknowledge a special effort you have made.
The unexpected bit of praise doesn't swell the head so much as
provide a springboard for trying again, but even better.
MORNING SOUNDS THAT BRING COMFORT
the early morning rumble of the city bus on its daily route -
all's well and dependable.
hearing the newspaper plop down on the doorstep.
the steady voice of the usual radio announcer, preparing us for
what we need to know for the day.
hearing the toaster pop up the bread slices at last - thought
it must be stuck.
sound of the spoon clattering around the bottom of the nearly
empty marmalade jar.
A HOSPITAL ROOM AT NIGHT
The last pill given; lights on low; can’t wait to drop off to sleep from
the fixed position on my back.
2:00 am. roommate restless; starts the preliminary scenario for getting
out of bed, beginning with a light sigh, heavy sigh, low moan, muffled
cry, and the sound of a heavy body moving off.
Good! She made it safely. Now, wait for the return trip. What’s taking
her so long?
Oh well, here comes the return trip, handled in reverse - muffled eek,
soft moan, heavy sigh, light sigh, and quiet. Well not quite. I’m sure
she has a tool box, in which she keeps rattling about, in search of a
screw driver - or is it a lipstick?
Now that leaves only the mystery staff, who frequent the storage room
next door. The hinges there creak in an eerie sort of way. Then after a
suitable pause, that door thumps shut, and the unseen person disappears,
never passing our doorway. Before relaxing I wonder what I chose for
breakfast two days ago for this morning. Hope it will appeal to me now.
Decide to spend some night life on the edge of the bed, watching the
rows on rows of street lights. Just consider all those city folk fast
asleep without their tool boxes.
NO PRAYING, PLEASE!
You may recall some of the skillful, heart-warming paintings by Norman
Rockwell, which appeared on the covers of The Saturday Evening Post for
many years. Among the most popular covers was ‘Saying Grace’. In it
Rockwell captured the moment of two travellers, a small boy and his
grandmother, thanking God for their food before a meal in a dingy
restaurant. Two young men at the far side of the table looked on in
surprise, mixed with respect. That was in 1951! Would the management and
patrons feel quite the same today?
An interesting occasion of a person in trouble for praying in public was
Christopher Smart. Dr. Samuel Johnson often befriended Smart by
supplying him with essays for a monthly publication called ‘The
Universal Visitor’.
Firmly and sensibly Dr. Johnson discussed the situation:-
My poor friend Smart shewed the disturbance of his mind by falling upon
his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual
place. Now although, rationally, speaking, it is greater madness not to
pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many
who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.
At times Smart was confined to a sanatorium, but Johnson claimed: ‘His
infirmities are not noxious to society. I would as lief pray with Kit
Smart as any one else.’
In spite of his troubled life, Christopher Smart’s ecstatic lines live
on in the text of the choral work ‘Rejoice in the Lamb’, with music
composed by Benjamin Britten. Christopher Smart’s prayers were of this
order:
‘For the nets come down from the eyes of the Lord to fish up men to
their salvation.’
‘For the Lord made a Nosegay in the meadow with his disciples and
preached upon the lily.’
More recently, we have the Wizard of Id comic strip by Parker,
reflecting the view of society on public praying. There The Little King
is judging the man brought before him for praying in the streets. The
following blocks of comic strip show the arrested man, released and
strolling down the street past massage parlours, taverns, and so on. To
one of their signs already has been added ‘No Praying’.
Yet we still have our religious freedom, a gift to be cherished. Norman
Rockwell also did a painting called ‘Freedom of Worship’ (1943) - a
collage of worshippers of various faiths, which included the legend
‘EACH ACCORDING TO THE DICTATES OF HIS OWN CONSCIENCE’. So let us all
pray, while we may.
By Norma C. Plummer