People had somehow held on in the transition from living it our way, through no one does America alone and I can do it, I can do it, I can do it into "life goes on" and "Let's see what can be done".
Some kids who'd found out there would be school and youth center and food and "home" were getting smiles and very individual in addition to being culturally tribal. One day, some asked a woman social worker, "Why don't you ever smile?"
"Oh. I do. Just not in front of anyone," then she grinned big and her teeth were broken and black. Someone covered her own surprised mouth. Another asked, "Does it hurt?" And yet another just grinned big back.
I rode with the social worker a couple times and it was really fine with both of us to just drink coffee and have quiet time.
"Today I have someone special to see," she said as we drove up and up a dirt road. She parked facing the front of another car. But it didn't seem like there was anyone at the campsite. We sat at a picnic table and waited.
For us it was more beautiful quiet time. Then we noticed a long branch reaching, reaching and snagging a bit of rope hanging in some trees. The rope got away from the branchpole. Danggit.
The social worker started towards the thick tuft of rhododendron. "Mr...."
"Don't come any closer."
Her feet stopped but she craned her neck towards the voice. "Why are you in there?"
"I'm neked. Hold on." The pole branch shot up again, snagged the rope, and there was a creaking sound. A couple arfs and uh-ohs. Then, "Okay, I'm ready. You can come in now."
She parted the bushes and there was a man in a Hawaian long skirt sitting on a perfect bench of tree trunk. "Good morning! What brings you out this way?"
"I came to see if you are alive."
"Quite." He snapped open a newspaper and fished a cigarette, lighter, and pencil from his shirt pocket. "I need a word for
"I need a word with," she said before she could stop herself.
"Could you check the ice box and see if I caught any fish?" He asked me.
I went down to the creek.
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