We awoke the next day to “a cool breeze and “severe-clear” weather! I purposely use an exclamation mark because in Winter Harbor, one usually arises from a comfortable nights sleep to “Pea-Soup” fog.
After going through the morning routine, we decided that not only was the crabapple tree the perfect spot to “Hang out” , it was good for Bob’s circulation etc.. , so after a hearty breakfast, I attached the leg braces and we headed down to the crabapple tree.
We followed the “steps” we had taken the previous day; I give Bob a wedgie as he grabs the tree branch and “Voila” Bob is “standing”!. He had his book, a beautiful day and the fishermen headed out of Henry’s cove for the morning “take”- a perfect start to a perfect day.
I went back into the house to clean up after breakfast and it started….The phone rang.
I answered with a cheery “Good Mornin’” and was answered back with a string of accusations.
It was my sister on the other end. I knew she had been up since the crack of dawn. It was her routine. She got up at 4:00 am to watch the boats leave the harbor and then got ready for work at the Sardine Factory. This day she interrupted her routine to blast me out!
“How could I treat the disabled like that, why do I stay with him, if I am just going to hang him from a tree. I have a good mind to report you to the authorities for abuse”….and on and on.
I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
She slammed the phone down and just left me standing there with a dial tone wondering what hit me!
I no sooner hung up the phone and it rang again-this time a neighbor. Then another and another, the damn phone didn’t stop long enough for to check on Bob! Thank God there are only 399 people in Winter Harbor and half of them had already left to haul their traps, otherwise, I never would have gotten off the phone.
I finally gave up answering and went to the Crabapple tree. Bob was just hanging there, quietly reading his book, looking vey content. Frankly, I wanted to knock him over(just to prove the abuse charge) except Pricilla had already left for the post office so that would go un-noticed.
I explained what had gone on inside-he was no comfort-he just started laughing. I knew he had no idea of the “Pricilla Power “ in town.
I tried to explain that the Sheriff’s Office could be on us at any minute.”Nah” he says…….Then Francais showed up. And Bob almost fell out of the tree!
Francais Torrey WAS the Sherriff’s Department in Winter Harbor. Gratefully, he was also a friend.
He sauntered down the path to the tree with a very curious look on his face. When he got close enough to see the book, he just cracked up, “Pricilla is at it again”! “Got any coffee?”…..That’s where it ended, over coffee and molasses doughnuts- I just love small towns!
This incident led to the revelation that although Bob was standing up for a long period and aiding digestion, circulation, etc., he was not exercising his upper body as much as he had been doing. Thus the decision was made to not only mend fences and prove he was not abused, he would also meet the neighbors by pushing up and down Sergeant Street (it about 1 mile long) a couple of times in the evening before the nightly fog settled in.
This little adventure would allow me a bit of a respite. I figured about 30 minutes each round trip. AHHHHHHH one hour to do nothing!
I am not really one to “do nothing” so I found little things around the house to amuse me, like going through old photographs or the view-master pictures of the world as it was. Both of these activities kept all of us busy for hours when we were younger and still managed to hold my attention. I could literally get lost in them.( and often did).
I was going through the third box of photos when I looked out the front window to see ROBERT weaving and sort of wheeling down the driveway. It had been almost two hours since he left and I had taken no notice. (Fine primary care-giver I turned out to be).
I wet out to put up the stair tread and open the door for him. ”What on earth is wrong with you”.
“I met a neighbor a few houses down , we chatted ,he offered me a cold drink, so I was polite. It was a gin and tonic”.
“That isn’t enough to make you weave like that”
“No, but there are 5 or 6 more neighbors out there…they are all very polite”.
Needless to say, I had to guide him up the ramp. It was an early evening, but all was well in Winter Harbor and I was somehow comforted by the fact that the town had abused Bob way more than I ever could!

CRABAPPLE TREES ARE HANDY

Mustering energy and a bit of courage, Bob forced his legs forward. VOIlA! His first step! Still upright!
With renewed confidence, he gathered steam for another ‘swing-through”. Success-again!
He made it look easy enough. I stood by: just as proud as a peacock. He had come such a long way.
WOOPS….as usual, thought to soon….Bob took the forward plunge with all the grace of a three legged calf. He kind of cork-screwed himself into the driveway. What was once a determined man was now a pile of blue jeans and twisted metal, blessedly, unhurt and laughing.
What is a girl supposed to do? It is not funny watching the man you love looking like a pile of medical waste.
After a while, we couldn’t take it much more so better locations were sought.
I know, I know, we are quitters, but the asphalt was hard and it was a extremely difficult to peel Bob up off the driveway on a regular basis.
What to do?
Confound the neighbors!
In the field below the house stood an old crabapple tree. The trunk was all gnarly and the limbs were large and low enough to make it the perfect climbing tree. This tree was situated so it had a beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean, Mark Island Lighthouse and lobstermen out hauling traps.
A bit to the left and down over the bank was the home of Pricilla Collins.
She was a fine lady, very sweet, and made the best tea-breads and cookies. She was also the Gladys Cravits (remember “Bewitched”) of Winter Harbor. Not much missed her watchful eye or her overly tuned ears at the general store.
I had previously pointed out her window curtains slightly pulled aside (barely eyes and nose visible) to Bob, just to let him know he had an appreciative audience.(much to his chagrin).
I explained to Bob how she was and he was better off to just ignore, because by now, it was all over town that I was your torturer . If she were alive today, I’d be in jail for hate crimes against the disabled!
We decided to that if she wanted a torturer and a show, we could and would oblige.
Due to the previously describe horror-show of putting on the leg braces,we spared her that particular spectacle but putting them on before we left the house.
It was a bit of a bumpy ride down the embankment, but with a bit of effort we were able to get near enough to the lowest bough and park the chair.
As luck (and God’s sense of humor) would have it, the bough was the perfect height for Bob to just reach up, grab it, then pull himself up. It was perfect! There he had a lovely view and could just hang from the tree. When he got tired he just had to let go and plop into the chair for a bit.
It was so great, I though about doing a theses paper on “Care-giving, Natures way!” (then thought better of it).
I left a very happy, dangling crip to get him a book and a glass of something cold and thought nothing of it!(Nor did he), but apparently Pricilla did. (although ,we didn’t know it until later in the day).