wanderer
November 14th, 2003, 09:08 PM
I moved recently to the town of Mapleton, Oregon. Mapleton is near the coast, midway up the state, on the Siuslaw river. The town of Mapleton consists of a store, bar, restaurant, hardware store, new age book store, one room library, bank, and post office. It is a small town by any description.
The people of Mapleton are for the most part remarkably friendly. This is something. that I am not particularly used to, coming from cities and suburbs. The second time I walked into the bank, the teller called me by my first name. The third time I went to the bank it was closed for lunch.
Next to the Mapleton High School is an Olympic sized swimming pool. Many cities do not have such a pool. It is used by the high school, and the community. Some of the most regular users are the seniors in the area, who have regular exercise classes. The average age of these seniors is around 65, though many are considerably older.
Budgets being what they are, funding for heating the pool is in very short supply. There is talk of having to shut the pool down.
So the seniors, like anyone would do, came up with a plan to raise money to keep the pool open. They got together and put out a 2004 calendar. The subject matter for the calendar is semi-nude photos of the men and women of the pool. Just like anyone would do. They sell the calendars for $12, but offer to autograph them for $1 more.
At 56 years old, I am starting to feel my age. So when I went to a recent local dinner, I was surprised to see that I was the youngest person there. It was somewhat gratifying yet strange. About half way through the dinner though, a young couple (in their thirties) came in, obviously tarring my distinction. But my wounded pride healed quickly as they just stayed briefly.
The house that I live in is quite nice. It is big enough that I do not bump into things, yet small enough to take easy care of. The setting is magnificent, with greenery all around. As all things it could be better, but all-in-all it is almost perfect.
This brings me to the subject of this piece: mosquito bites.
Shortly after arriving, I noticed that I was getting bitten. Now lets see, temperate climate, lots of rain, a river 500 yards away, lots of berry bushes... are mosquitoes a big shock? Well for an intelligent, perceptive and incredibly obtuse man of my character, apparently so. It is like a mediocre mystery that surprises us with what should have been obvious all the time.
Now dealing with this problem has been interesting to me. Luckily mosquitoes are somewhat predictable. They hang out in the same spots most of the time. They feed most at the same times, most of the time. And they bite in the meaty part of the flesh, most of the time. So by keeping the house closed, not going outside at sunset, and by liberal use of various lotions, I have limited the menu for these pesky pests.
But still they have a great appetite for survival. And survival for them is bites for me. And I have learned a lot about myself due to their survival techniques. I am not exactly grateful for this, but I do have a grudging appreciation for the learning.
Most of the time, the mosquitoes bite me on the arms and legs. This is annoying, but does allow for easy scratching. And I find it almost impossible not to scratch. The scratching is extra-ordinarily satisfying in the moment, better than almost any other human endeavor. But it is also very short-lived. The satisfaction soon fades, and the itch comes back worse than before. What follows is a series of episodes, more satisfying and shorter-lived than the last, until the bite is so irritated that further scratching would leave an open sore.
Once in a while, for some reason, a mosquito will choose to bite my back. When they bite right in the middle of the back, I am faced with a dilemma. Since it is quite awkward to scratch such an inch, I tend to live with it. The itch is annoying but not intolerable. By not scratching, the itch does not increase. By not irritating the bite, the duration of the irritation is much shorter.
Now one would think that I could learn an important lesson from this experience. Many lessons seem obvious, the simplest being that scratching an easily scratched itch may not be one?s best interest. But learning a lesson and modifying one?s behaviors are often very different things.
The people of Mapleton are for the most part remarkably friendly. This is something. that I am not particularly used to, coming from cities and suburbs. The second time I walked into the bank, the teller called me by my first name. The third time I went to the bank it was closed for lunch.
Next to the Mapleton High School is an Olympic sized swimming pool. Many cities do not have such a pool. It is used by the high school, and the community. Some of the most regular users are the seniors in the area, who have regular exercise classes. The average age of these seniors is around 65, though many are considerably older.
Budgets being what they are, funding for heating the pool is in very short supply. There is talk of having to shut the pool down.
So the seniors, like anyone would do, came up with a plan to raise money to keep the pool open. They got together and put out a 2004 calendar. The subject matter for the calendar is semi-nude photos of the men and women of the pool. Just like anyone would do. They sell the calendars for $12, but offer to autograph them for $1 more.
At 56 years old, I am starting to feel my age. So when I went to a recent local dinner, I was surprised to see that I was the youngest person there. It was somewhat gratifying yet strange. About half way through the dinner though, a young couple (in their thirties) came in, obviously tarring my distinction. But my wounded pride healed quickly as they just stayed briefly.
The house that I live in is quite nice. It is big enough that I do not bump into things, yet small enough to take easy care of. The setting is magnificent, with greenery all around. As all things it could be better, but all-in-all it is almost perfect.
This brings me to the subject of this piece: mosquito bites.
Shortly after arriving, I noticed that I was getting bitten. Now lets see, temperate climate, lots of rain, a river 500 yards away, lots of berry bushes... are mosquitoes a big shock? Well for an intelligent, perceptive and incredibly obtuse man of my character, apparently so. It is like a mediocre mystery that surprises us with what should have been obvious all the time.
Now dealing with this problem has been interesting to me. Luckily mosquitoes are somewhat predictable. They hang out in the same spots most of the time. They feed most at the same times, most of the time. And they bite in the meaty part of the flesh, most of the time. So by keeping the house closed, not going outside at sunset, and by liberal use of various lotions, I have limited the menu for these pesky pests.
But still they have a great appetite for survival. And survival for them is bites for me. And I have learned a lot about myself due to their survival techniques. I am not exactly grateful for this, but I do have a grudging appreciation for the learning.
Most of the time, the mosquitoes bite me on the arms and legs. This is annoying, but does allow for easy scratching. And I find it almost impossible not to scratch. The scratching is extra-ordinarily satisfying in the moment, better than almost any other human endeavor. But it is also very short-lived. The satisfaction soon fades, and the itch comes back worse than before. What follows is a series of episodes, more satisfying and shorter-lived than the last, until the bite is so irritated that further scratching would leave an open sore.
Once in a while, for some reason, a mosquito will choose to bite my back. When they bite right in the middle of the back, I am faced with a dilemma. Since it is quite awkward to scratch such an inch, I tend to live with it. The itch is annoying but not intolerable. By not scratching, the itch does not increase. By not irritating the bite, the duration of the irritation is much shorter.
Now one would think that I could learn an important lesson from this experience. Many lessons seem obvious, the simplest being that scratching an easily scratched itch may not be one?s best interest. But learning a lesson and modifying one?s behaviors are often very different things.