Heartland

This is Myrt’s bus. It’s rusted over and sinking into the earth, packed full of puzzle boxes and pickle jars. This wasn’t the original yellow bus that she, George and sons used to move cross-country then lived in for a few years after more or less converting into an RV. No, this is the blue bus they bought to use as storage space while they were living in the yellow bus. Later they put a shower in the blue bus because there was no room for one in the yellow bus and they didn’t want to keep walking to their son’s house to bathe.

I’m not marveling at Myrt’s bus because it’s a foreign scene to my middle class eyes. I was born in the Deep South – mobile living is nothing new to me. Besides, Myrt’s bus says more about personal character than social class. I asked her when was the last time she’d been in that bus outside; she grinned at my silly question and said, “Two days ago. I went in to put up some pickle jars.”


This is Myrt’s “Prize Pickle”: That’s one big cucumber. Gardening is one of her many skills and pastimes. After 60 years of marriage her husband George died this year. Everyone thought she wouldn’t last, but like any true country girl Myrt is healthy, strong as an ox and keeps herself quite busy. Tuesday she showed me 44 puzzles she’s completed; loaded us up with two ice chests of cucumbers, squash, okra and zucchini from her industrious garden, moved a large dog kennel with very little help, and served a home cooked meal.

The fence around her house is bobbed-wire, not picket, and the house itself feels old, but not in any grandiose antique way. There are two magnets on the Icebox. The first is the serenity prayer: a wise choice for any household. The second reads: “The west wasn’t won with a registered gun.” The setting is without luxury, but I swear she’s rich and just listening to her is an anointing.

I remember going to her house 5 or so years ago, when I hardly kept a journal, but immediately went home and wrote about the deep character of her crooked teeth and soul-reaching smile. This visit, however, we chewed in similar style, using only the front teeth, since I’m still recovering from The Removal. (BTW: Myrt still has one of her wisdom teeth, “if it ain’t bothering me I figure I won’t bother it,” she said.)

I told her about Andean culture and Myrt said you wouldn’t ever catch her eating any guinea pig.