In Lieu of Flowers

Published Feb. 26, 2014 in Tulare County's Foothills Sun-Gazette

    "I'm out of work again," a mid-life man told me in a quiet moment at the market last week.  There was time to inquire, so I did.  He worked in parts for HVAC units, and "since nobody has money to get their coolers fixed," his job disappeared.

     "I'm still recovering," said another man the same night.  Retired, he works on demand for a florist.  Valentine's Day is their Christmas, the heaviest day of the year.  He made 60 arrangements in a two-day period; this was the best year they'd ever had.

     There was a beautiful graveside service for Tammy McCall on Thursday.  The obituary said that, in lieu of flowers, people could donate to their favorite animal shelter or rescue organization.  Luckily, some people ordered flowers:  their beauty is a salve for the pain we face staring down the reality of death.  I'm sure the florists appreciate it, too.

     I've never had the money to participate in that level of society, nor did my parents.  I can remember very few times they were compelled to order flowers for a funeral or go buy a plant in pretty foil paper.  Just recently I bought a plant at SaveMart for someone who was dying, compelled to spend grocery money on beauty instead of bread.  Knowing her love of flowers, I wanted there to be some near when she opened her eyes for the last time.  But I haven't had my furnace serviced in years, and I only pray that my ancient AC wall unit will work come summer.

     It's hard not to see that the life some of us have had is dying.  The news is jammed with debates over the efforts in Sacramento and Washington to resuscitate the economy:  will raising the minimum wage help workers or kill jobs?  Will the national health plan improve living conditions for more people than it will hurt?  The ones it is hurting are raging enough to go to war.  "Arrest Obama!" was the battle cry of some people that same night at the market.  "You had your chance Friday," I said to them, "he was in Fresno."  "He was?" they replied, looking at me blankly.

     And now, with the water thing, or the lack of water thing, the zero allocation thing, I wonder why we're bothering to debate at all.  "California's water system was designed for 24 million people," a knowledgeable friend said, "and now we've got 40 million.  What are we supposed to do?"  "Migrate," was the first word out of my mouth, since all I can think of most days is getting back to western Washington where rain is so plentiful people die of scurvy.  But having lived in California for the last four decades, will my home state recognize and welcome me?  Or will they smell the sunshine in my bones and put up a barricade?  "Don't Californicate Oregon" was a popular bumper sticker in the 70's when I lived there.  If we started moving north en masse, it could get worse.

     So I don't know what to do but stay put, hunker down, and keep carrying buckets of saved household water to the plants outside.  In lieu of flowers, I've cut my showers, clothes washing and dish washing, micromanaging every drop of water for the best use I can imagine, all so that I won't sign my own death warrant.  But when the time comes, I hope there's a rose or two to lay on my grave.
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Trudy Wischemann is a hydrologically inclined writer encamped in a semi-desert.  You can send your desert rose raising tips c/o P.O. Box 1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a comment below.