016 - Fear (3 - Eureka)
The Last Apricot Tree Under the Mountain
There were three things to fear while growing up on Eureka Avenue.
The shed. The wood pile. The dogs. And maybe the vampires. Yes, I know that makes four. But once you have a little blood sucked out, you start losing your math skills. Let’s work our way backwards.
The vampires are simple. It is really dark in the country. They like the dark. They look in your window and wait for you to come outside to take a leak or maybe on your way to grab a sandwich in the big house. A fire in the pot belly stove can help ward them off, but it is still creepy sitting there, reading a Stephen King novel, knowing they are watching you and thinking of you as their first meal of the day.
The dogs are simple as well. Walk or ride your bicycle down Eureka and some tail wagging daemon will chase you until it tattoos your butt or thigh with some teardrops. Even now, a chained or caged bark sends shivers down my spine. If I am walking with my grandchildren, I have to spend several hundred yards imagining how I will defeat the beast in hand-to-hand combat. There are no dogs running free now but some things you simply can’t get over. Some scary things get smaller the older you get. Dogs are not one of them.
The wood pile is more complex. It, like the dogs, is scary during the night and the day. Certainly, when you forget to bring in the wood during the day, the heart attack symptoms come like an avalanche at night. But light or dark, I cannot think of anyone who doesn’t need an extra pair of undies when a cat, raccoon or snake comes flying out of the wood pile. I have literally swallowed my 12-year-old tongue. Once you have been through one of those meet and greets, subsequent trips sear the soul and leave scream emojis in future brain scans.
Did I mention the black widows? Junk piles. Bikes. Rakes and shovels. Hoses. Car wheel wells. Chair cushions. “Hey Jeff, could you grab the end of that 2x12? Quick?” Heck no! Not without gloves and full remote camera inspection.
But the most terrifying, heart-stopping, bowel-loosening, teeth rattling, therapy requiring, tear producing moment is the tool shed. How evil was this? If you wanted to raise scarred children you could not have done better by design. The door was down an unlit, pitch-black hallway between two outbuildings. The door wasn't even visible.. You had to walk slowly, so you didn’t smash your nose before you died, and the light switch was on the inside! Opening the door required blindly sticking your whole arm into the shed to search for the light switch which was about a foot away from the door jam. You couldn’t do it quickly. You had to feel and fumble. And the entire time a vampire was standing there waiting to attack. Mercy me. I am lucky to be alive.
Like Peter Pan, the vampires are supposed to move along when you grow older. Unlike Peter Pan, vampires are real, so if you visit and I ask you to go into the dark to grab a rake, keep on your toes and be ready to run. On second thought, do what I did and run no matter what. Screaming is allowed and encouraged.
Editorial and Advance Reader Contributors: Mark Wallace, Alisha Price, Heather Bergevin of Barrow Editing, Mette Ivie, Bonnie Wach, Francoise Boden, Mark Berg, Mike Hammer and Kathy Toelkes. Special thanks to Bill Davis for a kick in the pants that only a friend from your old stomping grounds can give you. Mt. Diablo and Apricot Tree painting by the talented and local artist, Greg Hart.