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| Finding Acorns in Winter by � DuaneSimolke From The Acorn Gathering:Writers Uniting Against Cancer, http://acorngathering.gq.nu/ The acorn gathering begins. I carry the basket, woven by my grandmother, many winters ago. She had worked the basket carefully and methodically, pouring into it all the love she felt for my mother and father. She had imagined it would bring them a memory of her as they sat sharing a bowl of acorn soup. She never imagined a winter like this one, when acorns would become our main source of food and medicine. Only the youngest and elders remain behind as our men hunt and our women gather. My people are from the Comanche. We live in a vast, flat area the Europeans call �Texas.� The winters normally stay gentle and pass quickly. Not so with this winter. The acorn gathering begins. I crack the ice at the base of a great oak tree, hoping to find more acorns for my grandmother, and the others. Wrapped in a blanket her grandmother wove before her, my grandmother lies, overtaken by the sickness that starvation brings. * * * �Y2K again,� Gretchen Cutter told her mother, gripping her frail, bony hands and looking at the eyes now circled with a bluish black hue that looked like a bad makeup job. She could barely stand to see that once strong, German woman, lying in a Lubbock hospital bed, recovering from having one of her breasts removed. Still, she knew that she must be strong. Gretchen thought of what her mother would tell her: that God never gives us more of a burden than we can carry. Though also deeply religious, Gretchen had considered her mother�s platitudes annoying at times; now, she suddenly found comfort in how her mother could cling to faith, and to life. Slowly becoming aware of Gretchen�s presence, her mother finally asked, �What about Y2K?� Hearing her mother�s voice made her want to call the rest of her family. She had barely spoken since the operation began, the night before, and they all wanted to hear her voice. Gretchen replied, �When the clock strikes midnight and we move into 2000, the power might go off, but the hospital has a backup generator.� �I wouldn�t worry about that, dear.� The door to the hospital room opened slightly, and a long-faced but beautiful young Native American woman pushed her head in, timidly and respectfully. �Gretchen, I�m sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to see if you needed a break.� �No,� Gretchen replied, before noticing that her mother was trying to see the woman at the door. She added, �But come on in.� The woman entered, hands in the pockets of her vest, and stood beside Gretchen�s chair, looking over Gretchen�s shoulder. �How are we doing, Helga?� �Better,� said Gretchen�s mother. Then she told Gretchen, �Sonya is a volunteer. She�s a nursing student at Texas Tech. She came to see me this morning, after I finally convinced you to go to work.� Sonya asked Gretchen, �You took time for work, but did you also take time for eating and sleeping? You still need to take care of yourself.� Shrugging her shoulders, Gretchen insisted, �Don�t worry. My husband and daughter won�t let me skip eating or sleeping. They�ve been up here, in my place. And my brother and sister will be here late tomorrow night, with their families. They had trouble getting flights, because of the holiday, so they�re driving in. You�d think no one would be flying, with all the Y2K scares.� �I guess not. You know, your mother is very proud of you. Teacher of the year in Acorn! I�ve always heard good things about the schools there, so it must be quite an accomplishment to get that sort of recognition.� Gretchen tried not to blush, but knew that her light German skin, surrounded by dull gray hair, could never conceal even the slightest hint of blushing. �Thank you.� �I also understand that your parents planted some of the largest oak trees in Acorn. I love oak trees. My mother is always giving me stories and recipes that involve acorns. She says that her dogs even like to eat acorns!� �Acorn recipes?� asked Gretchen�s mother. �Yes, flour, soups, medicines�. My people had many uses for acorns. They gathered them to supplement their food supplies.� �I�ve been in this hospital so long, away from my home. Could you-?� She rolled her head away on the pillow. �No that�s silly.� Gretchen touched her mother�s face, and she looked back at them. �What is it, Mama?� Looking at Sonya, Gretchen�s mother asked, �If Gretchen told you where to find the oak trees that my husband and I planted, could you bring me an acorn from each one? I know that sounds crazy, but it would make me feel connected to home again, to my past.� Sonya looked pleased by the idea. �Yes, of course.� �It isn�t too far? I know you have your school work, and all the work you do here.� �No,� Sonya insisted. �It would be good for me, too. I�ve also felt detached from my past at times, and this sounds like something my ancestors would do. It will be an honor.� �Thank you,� Gretchen and her mother both said. Since the death of Gretchen�s father, ten months earlier, Gretchen�s mother had rarely asked for anything. Even when she look dissatisfied with the new priest who replaced him at Acorn�s Providence Episcopalian Church, even when that church struggled but succeeded in helping the family pay for his hospital costs and burial costs, even when she found the lump on her breast, and even when it came to having that breast removed, she never complained or demanded anything. So when she made this strange request, Gretchen wanted it fulfilled. Despite the complete success of the surgery, Gretchen couldn�t stop thinking that her mother must be in pain-regardless of what she kept insisting. Gretchen wanted something beautiful for her mother: something to make her smile the way she had once smiled. If that meant acorns from all over Acorn, then that sounded great! * * * Gretchen hated that her mother could only see one visitor at a time. She wanted the whole family there, watching the TV together when the clock struck midnight. Still, her husband and daughter begrudgingly relented to the hospital�s visitation policies, after hearing about and only vaguely agreeing with them. �You�ve always been a soothing presence,� her husband had assured her, when they decided that she should be the visitor during the countdown to Y2K. The compliment sounded odd to Gretchen, like saying that she was sufficiently dull, but then she realized that he only wanted to help her stand strong for her mother. Sitting beside her mother in the now-familiar chair, Gretchen actually found the presence of the television soothing. Though she usually preferred books over TV, she enjoyed watching the coverage of Y2K celebrations all over the world, and she even managed to stop correcting the announcers who kept referring to the year 2000 as �the beginning of the new millennium.� At times, her mother would open her eyes slightly and even seem to smile a bit at the images of festivals, parades, dancing, singing, and fireworks. Though stranded in a hospital room in West Texas, she could see the world. Despite all the fear that had surrounded that winter day, it turned into a celebration. And even Gretchen�s fear began to fade, not only her fear that the power might go off or some global catastrophe might happen, but also her fear that she might lose her mother so soon after losing her father. * * * Sonya regretted not visiting Acorn sooner, before the majestic oaks dropped their fall leaves. Still, she found acorns at all the addresses that Gretchen and Helga gave her. Only one address remained. When Sonya pulled into the long gravel driveway, across several potholes that violently shook her old Plymouth, she found a rather rickety but tall wooden fence surrounding the property. The fence, covered with flaking gray paint, looked forbidding and ugly. A metal gate disrupted the driveway, with a recently repainted sign: �Keep out! Vandals, salespeople, and other intruders will be shot!� The faded words on the mailbox destroyed Sonya�s growing hope that maybe she found the wrong house. �Buddy Basil, 240 Sherwood Street,� she read aloud, after cautiously stepping out of her car and zipping up her black leather jacket. But then she asked herself, �Is this guy really anyone�s buddy?� She wondered if she should just honk her horn, rather than daring to climb the locked gate and risk getting shot. She could just see the headlines: �Indians invade Basil farm during alleged acorn gathering.� Part of Sonya wanted to just find one more acorn somewhere else, and claim she found it at the Basil farm. Still, she felt her ancestors guiding her to keep her word, even if no one else would ever know for sure how she found the acorns. Just as Sonya reached for the five-foot gate, a large doberman pounced against the other side of it, barking and growling at her. She jumped back, hoping it couldn�t clear the gate, but realizing it probably could. �Earl, simmer down!� came an old man�s voice. He appeared beside the dog, wearing a red and black flannel shirt, faded overalls, and a Briggs Co Tractors cap. The dog quickly snapped into an alert sitting position, his pointy ears twitching and his jaws in a slight snarl. His glistening black eyes glared at Sonya with the knowledge that he had already frightened her, already blocked her from entering without his master�s approval. �That�s Earl,� the old man explained to Sonya. �And you must be Buddy Basil.� He nodded. �And just who are you? I�m not giving any land back to your people. You�ll have to talk to the US government about that.� Sonya laughed at his strange reaction to her skin color. �Not that they would keep their word anyway, but I don�t want your land-just one little thing from it.� �Really?� His wrinkled face showed more annoyance than interest. �And what would that be?� �Do you still have the oak tree that Helga and Walter Fischer planted here during the 1950s?� �Well, yeah, I served in the war with Walter. But that oak tree isn�t something little. It shades nearabouts my entire front yard!� He motioned to his left, and Sonya noticed the naked branches of the mighty oak, towering above the fence. All she could see behind and around Buddy was a series of young pine trees and a plow. �I don�t need the tree itself, just one of its acorns.� Buddy scowled, looked suddenly older and angrier. �Now why would you want something like that? Get on out of here with your pagan rituals! I�m a Christian!� Sonya tried desperately to remain composed, reminding herself that she would encounter countless other Buddy Basils throughout her nursing career. �So am I. This isn�t about religion, though. It�s about comforting someone. Helga Fischer is lying in a Lubbock hospital bed, because she�s been fighting cancer. She lost Walter not long ago, and it looked for a while like she might lose her own life. She just wants something of her life in Acorn, some connection, and this is what she asked for.� The old man listened intently, and even Earl seemed calm, less vigilant against any supposed danger. �But why are you doing this for her?� Buddy asked, placing his hands on the fence. Between the calluses, the age spots, the wrinkles, and the unusually thick knuckles, his fingers looked strangely like knotted ropes. Still, his face looked suddenly more human and more concerned than any face that Sonya had ever seen-and certainly nothing like the severe countenance that first greeted her. �Because she asked me to, and because I somehow needed to. I�ve been dreaming of my great grandmother, finding acorns in winter, so they could help those who need help.� A hint of a smile graced Buddy�s chapped lips. �I�m not sure I understand what you�re talking about, but I�ll get the acorn for you.� She nodded respectfully. �Thank you.� When he returned a few minutes later, he handed her a desecrated acorn, its blackened shell torn open by a bird or a squirrel. �I�m sorry,� he said. �This is all I could find. My wife is inside. Maybe she could help us find a better one. I don�t see so good, and probably ought to wear my glasses all the time.� Sonya held the acorn in her palm as if it were a diamond. �No, this is perfect! Thank you again!� Buddy smiled more fully than before, but said �goodbye� when he heard his wife calling his name. Earl leaned against the fence and whined as Sonya also said �goodbye.� She had been right about the acorn gathering making her feel closer to her ancestors, and she felt grateful to Helga for sending her on such an unusual but fulfilling mission. * * * I cradle my grandmother�s head as I hold the bowl of acorn soup to her mouth and she breathes in its warmth and its spices. In her gray eyes, I see hope and gratitude. I have done well by her, and it makes me feel proud to finally help this woman who has guided my feet for so long. * * * The news of her mother�s rapid recovery caused Gretchen to run down the hallway and cry. But her husband and daughter lead her back to the hospital room, saying that Sonya was there, and that they could all go in. The three of them watched as Sonya dropped the acorns into the patient�s open hands. Patient, Gretchen thought, not for much longer! You�re strong again. I�m glad I could be strong for you when you weren�t. She could see the hope and the gratitude in her mother�s gray eyes. �Happy New Year�s, Mama,� Gretchen whispered, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief at seeing her mother looking healthy and happy. * * * I walk outside, past the teepees and the fires of my village, their scents lingering in the cold. The falling snow gives way to falling ice, and I pull a blanket tightly over my skin. My grandmother rests now, and her breathing seems much smoother. I feel certain that she will survive another winter. My husband returns from the hunt, unsuccessful but without a broken spirit; he has only returned briefly to see us. He is pleased that my grandmother is well, and he says that we will soon watch winter submit to spring. Even though that is months away, I take comfort in that image, and in his love. But for now, my basket is empty. The acorn gathering begins. |
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