For just over 40 years, I’ve had an annoying medical problem. It started in December 1983 when I became homeless for the second time. I was 34 and trying to live out of a beat-up old ’69 green Rambler. My problems included having no working heater and not enough money for gas to get around. Also it was a very cold December. Also I didn’t know what I know now: no matter how cold it is, you have to take your shoes and socks off from time to time. If I’d only ever been in the army, they’d probably have taught me that.
I started getting gangrene in my right foot. I caught it in time, but ever since then, the site of the infection has been prone to developing a corn, and I end up limping on it.
A few years later, I was living in an 85-square-foot room next door to a psychopath, who dabbled as an uncredentialed surgeon. He practiced on homeless people for free, which showed he was a good-hearted psychopath. He wanted to make friends with me. I always figure it’s better to be friends with psychopaths than not. So when he gifted me a pair of surgical quality scissors, I couldn’t refuse them. I found out soon that I could use them to trim the corn back and get relief from it.
I had those scissors for four decades. I was always careful not to take them on planes. I didn’t want the TSA confiscating them. But last year they were stolen.
And for months, I’ve been going back to limping. I didn’t have my magical scissors.
Then a couple of weeks ago, I went to the opening of Real Change’s show of portraits of vendors at the downtown library, and I found myself being asked if I would return to art. I said what I’d said before: yes, maybe, but this time no paint; I’d stick to pen and ink.
I got to thinking maybe I should do that. I went to an art supply store and got what I’d need, and while I was there I bought a pair of scissors suitable for crafts.
Not your blunted kiddy scissors for kindergarten and grade school. These have sharpened blades. They’re stabbing scissors. If the TSA were to confiscate them, I would be proud that they really were the deadly weapons they were taken to be.
My inner Jerry Seinfeld emerged after I got them home. “Have you ever noticed scissors come in packages you need scissors to open?”
Anyway, I managed to open them and then set about working the corn out. I’m not limping, again.
Speaking of happy-ever-after stories, how about those zebras? If you missed this, four zebras were being transported from Western Washington to a petting zoo in Montana when they got free from their trailer.
The best part of the story is that three of the four were almost immediately recaptured by a passing off-duty rodeo clown. Such a great plot.
The fourth zebra jumped a fence and got away for another week, gaily traipsing trails in the lower Western Cascades near North Bend. “Twin Peaks” country. Think Snoqualmie Falls, the Cedar River Watershed, Mount Si, David Lynch, Laura Palmer, etc. It was reported to be a male named “Z.” Eventually, we found out it was a female named “Shug.” I blame the media for all the errors.
Very longtime readers may know my September 1995 column was supposed to unveil a character named Melissa “Missy” Schmerzgarten. She got axed by our editorial committee because her story was politically incorrect. However, I managed much later to use her in part by transforming her into a rodeo clown, rather than a horribly depressing open mic poet. It was a feel-good transformation that let her be relevant to today’s world, without causing offense, even though the difference between a really talented, horribly depressing open mic poet and a great rodeo clown is hard to pinpoint.
I can now see new directions her character can evolve. Not just a rodeo clown, but a nomadic quixotic rodeo clown, roaming from place to place, riding her 1969 Land Rover “Rocinante,” prepared to use her rodeo clown gifts to wrangle escaped petting zoo animals.
In her spare time, she could be an uncredentialed surgeon to homeless people in need.
Dr. Wes is the Real Change Circulation Specialist, but, in addition to his skills with a spreadsheet, he writes this weekly column about whatever recent going-ons caught his attention. Dr. Wes has contributed to the paper since 1994. Curious about his process or have a response to one of his columns? Connect with him at [email protected].
Read more of the May 15–21, 2024 issue.