On Writing, Friendship, and Canadian Tree Fairies

On Writing, Friendship, and Canadian Tree Fairies

Charlotte is my best friend and she’s dying. She has Lou Gherrig’s disease which means she’s gradually losing the use of all of her muscles. Back when she was still able to drive, we took a writing class together at Diablo Valley College, and during one of the writing exercises, Charlotte wondered:
If you discover a fairy in your back yard, will the EPA classify it as an endangered species?
Will you have to file an Environmental Impact Report to dig up your petunias?
What effect will the fairy have on the native wildlife?
Maybe you should just call the exterminator.

Anyway, Charlotte never finished the story, and a couple of month ago, she asked me to do it - but to write my story, not hers. Being slightly dense, it took me two months to figure out that she’s giving away everything she has, and that included her stories.

I couldn’t remember all of the agencies Charlotte had mentioned vis a vis the environmental impact of fairies in northern California, so I had to add a few of my own - a dog catcher, an insane… no that’s giving away the story! Anyway, I got as far as Iverson’s incarceration in the pound, and then I hit writer’s block and put Iverson and his Vision Quest on the back shelf of my work area. And, it turned out later that California wouldn’t work and I had to move the Hartmans to New York.

Of the two of us, Charlotte was always the talker and I was the listener. She’d get to talking a blue streak like the little cartoon mouse Snuffles. Remember him? “My name is Snuffles. Do you know why they call me Snuffles. I don’t…..” That was Charlotte.
I’m shy and frequently can’t think of anything to say. So it was quite unfair that her voice was the first thing to go, and she had to be quiet, and I had to come up with conversation for both of us.
One great thing - Charlotte can smile and laugh, even now when almost nothing else works. Sherry her caregiver says it’s because the smile is involuntary, and that really makes me feel good. That means when she smiles it’s for real – she’s physically incapable of just being polite.


On Writing about Canadian Tree Fairies and Other Technical Difficulties

Once, when I visited Charlotte, her caregiver Sherry was on vacation and Dan was home with her. I had gotten as far as incarcerating Iverson in the pound, and Dan was really helpful in that he appreciated the technical aspects of the story. Dan asked, “What do fairies do?”
“Woah! I had not read up on my fairy lore." I said. "They’re magical. They can fly. Does that mean they can do magic?” Charlotte squeezed my hand, “yes.” Then how come Iverson can’t get out of the pound? I had to think about that. Later, from the internet I found out about the cold steel. What kind of tricks do they do? The only fairy tricks I could remember were in Midsummer Night’s Dream, when Puck changes Bottom’s head into the head of an ass.

Then Dan asked me, "can Iverson talk?" Again Woah! If Iverson can talk, they’re not going to treat him like an animal. So I gave him a high, chirpy voice and had him adopted by a French-speaking family.
I had the idea of a disgruntled ex-contestant from “The Apprentice” and of Iverson infiltrating Trump Tower and causing a military skirmish. Dan wanted to include Trump’s comb over, hence the crazy glue episode.

I’d been typing like a trooper, and I got the story finished up to the invasion, and I couldn’t wait till the following Monday. I could read her the story and I didn’t have to come up with anything to talk about.

I called in the morning before I barged on over and got the answering machine. I never got a call back, and later, I drove by the house. The big van that holds Charlotte’s wheelchair was gone, and Dan’s car was still in the driveway, so I drove away hoping that everything was okay. But the thought crossed my mind - what if I never see Charlotte again? I knew that she had a “do not resuscitate - no heroic measures” directive so I couldn’t imagine them going to the hospital. I did hope I’d be able to read the story to her. I hoped they were at clinic.

I knew that the day would come when I couldn’t have my Monday visits. Of course I knew it would happen some day. And, I knew that being alive and not being able to communicate at all would be horrible.
With a weak squeeze of her hand, Charlotte can acknowledge “yes”. It may not seem like much, but it’s a very useful “yes” - as in
Do you have to use the bathroom? - squeeze “yes”
Do you need your chair adjusted - squeeze “yes”
Tilt up? Squeeze “yes”
Are you in pain?
Is the sun in your eyes?
And so on.

The following weekend, I called from my Writer’s Retreat to tell Dan that I wouldn’t be able to visit on Monday, and he said they’d been to clinic and he hoped I hadn’t worried.
“No, I figured that’s where you were.” (Like heck, I hadn't worried.)

So here it is - “Iverson’s Vision Quest”. I hope you enjoy it. I know you would have enjoyed Charlotte.

Epilogue

"If you receive this letter, I have died. I hope you will miss me some, but don't be too sad for me. I have had a wonderful life, filled with love and lots of interesting things to do and learn about. I have been lucky in my birth family and the family Dan and I formed. My folks gave me unconditional love and didn't load me up with a lot of emotional baggage. Dan and my children made my life a joyful and interesting one. Dan has been a wonderful husband and I am very proud of how my children have turned out. They are both beautiful, interesting, caring individuals.

You all, my friends, have given me love and encouragement and unlimited entertainment. I loved listening to all your stories, and you have all taught me something about life. I cherish every one of you.

Even in my last illness, I was lucky to have so much support from hospice, medical professionals, volunteers, caregivers and friends and my wonderful family.

Now a word of parting advice: In everything you do you are creating part of reality itself. Every choice you make is a small piece in the patchwork of the universe. If you believe in God as the creative force that makes everything, you must be a piece of God because you make the universe every day, by how you treat other people, by the way you decorate your homes, by the work you choose to do, by the things you create whether they are works of art, or gardens or meals or groups you organize. Everything counts. So create well. And if you think of me, plant something green to contribute your share of oxygen to the planet. After all, I am a biologist.

I had fun. Hope you did too. Goodbye. I love you all.

Charlotte"