Cardinal Meadows. Episode 3

"They replicated a large set of women’s breasts, emblazoned with the words “Shake it, Don’t break it”

Gen 19:3 And he pressed upon them greatly; and they turned in unto him, and entered into his house; and he made them a feast.

At Spooner’s insistence we took his pickup. We could have walked to his house in the time it took him to clear the front seat of the what-nots that he called “road treasure”. I now understood why Spooner had a blind eye to the trash piled up around the outside of my….(I couldn’t bring myself to say it yet.) We weaved around and through piles, buckets and barrels full of “stuff”. Stuff being the more polite, of a near same- sounding word. We traipsed up heavy wood steps towards his front door. The edges of the steps carried an assortment of clay pots, coffee cans and other open mouth oddities, each of which contained dead or near dead plants. Following him through the front door, the warm aroma of chicken cooking in curry invited us towards the kitchen. To get there, Spooner had to clear us a tight path through the living room, as his decorating theme was, “more is better”. Next to the living room was the kitchen. In the middle of the “kitchen” was a giant wooden telephone line spool on which was placed, literally, everything in the room except the refrigerator and the kitchen sink. I couldn’t help but ask him how he got the mammoth object into the room.

“Built the kitchen around it. Had a dream about it one night and got started the next day. Kind of spiritual huh? It totally brings out the whole circle of life concept, wouldn’t you say?”

Spooner had several stools in place around one side of the giant spool and, keeping with the round motif, had several “lazy- susans” filled with spices, bowls and utensils within easy reach. At first I thought it looked ridiculous, but it all had a certain symmetry, and though no two bowls or pieces of silverware matched, everything in this room was dead on spotless.

I had to comment. “ Nice kitchen.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “There’s not much that I’m too picky about, except my food combos and where it’s cooked. My mother’s influence I guess.”

“Mothers,” I replied. “Gotta love ‘em.”

“Mine was a witch, but she was a hell of a cook, know what I mean bro?”

I declined to comment as I was busy looking at Spooner’s salt and pepper shaker collection, neatly stacked on shelves that went along one wall.

“Nice collection”

“Yeah, 1,053 and counting. Most are in boxes, these are my favorites”

The set of salt shakers sitting on the table were joined together. They replicated a large set of women’s breasts, emblazoned with the words “Shake it, Don’t break it”. I’m not a puritan, but some things just aren’t meant for the dinner table. Spooner yanked two more beers from the refrigerator.

“No thanks, I make it a point to limit myself to one.”

“Dude, I can respect that. ”

“Do you have any water?”

“Water? Uh, yeah, you don’t mind if it’s out of the tap do ya?”

“No, not at all.”

Spooner went to the sink and filled a glass and handed it to me. “It’s well water.”

It was murky and slightly brown. I cautiously took a small sip. It was gross, and Spooner noticed that I quickly set the glass down.

“That’s why I drink beer.”

Spooner had something there.

He set a loaf of bread and a tub of margarine on the table and then followed it with the great smelling chicken and rice. It seemed to contain vegetables and bits of macaroni and spaghetti. Since he was so fastidious about his kitchen I had no qualms about diving in. It was delicious.

Making small talk I asked him, “So did it take long to prepare this?”

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled. “This batch? It’s been four years in the making.”

“Pardon?”

“You know, four years in the making…it’s an endless pot- something else my mom taught me. I just keep adding stuff. Yesterday I added leftover pasta. Good huh?”

“You mean you haven’t emptied this pot in four years? Not to clean it or anything?”

“Nope, bad luck to clean an endless pot. You just scrape the sides and keep adding stuff. Kinda like a sourdough recipe, it’s the starter that makes it taste so good… and it ain’t killed nobody yet, know what I mean, bro?”

It was too late, I’d already eaten half the bowl. It was so good I opted for a second bowl (and just this once) a second beer. I wanted to add some salt to the dish, but just couldn’t bring myself to handle the salt shaker. We finished up with small talk and walked back across the road. We stopped near where the car was parked.

“Look Spooner, I think I should tell you. I’m probably going back to Pennsylvania. This place, it’s just too overwhelming.”

“Whataya mean? You’re turning right around and heading home? But dude this is your home now.”

“Come on Spooner, just look at this place, it’s a wreck. There’s no way I could afford to fix it up. I can’t imagine what it looks like inside.”

“Dude, you were just at my place, I’ve got everything you need to make this place really nice- paint, plumbing stuff, you name it.”

“Thanks for the dinner and the nice offer, but I’m kind of a klutz when it comes to repairs. I’ve never even fixed a leaky faucet. This is way over my head.”

“I can help you man. My place? I built the whole enchilada outta stuff I found or traded for. See these scars?” He showed me his hands (they had seen some abuse). “ Built it with my own two hands. Didn’t know what I was doin’ at first, but got most of the kinks out now. Look dude, we can do it.”

“ I don’t even have a job, I have a little savings but not enough to pay someone wages.”

“A job? Wages? What’s that? Seriously man. Look, if it’s that important to you…can you afford beer? Cause if you can, I can afford to work. Look, it’s too late in the day to leave anyhow, so I’ll make you a deal. You stay here tonight and if you don’t have the best nights sleep ever… I’ll push your car back to Pennsylvania.”

How could I refuse? The guy was so sincere. Spooner helped me pitch a makeshift tent and walked me around the property. Though the orchard and house were in a shambles, Cardinal Meadows itself was unique. It was hidden away. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to notice it earlier, but I took a few moments and listened to the songs of the birds, breathed in the crystal clean air, and watched as the cool evening breeze nudged the sun over the mountain tops. Yes, it was a beautiful place, but I needed something more. I asked the Lord for a sign. I’d rarely slept through the night in the basement back home, the noises and smells and closeness of the walls had been like a constant weight on my chest. If I could sleep through the “entire” night, I would give Cardinal Meadows another day.