Reflections - Independence Day Has a New Meaning

CLASH (Spence, Darrick, Erika,Yvonka) and Monica

Shoulders tense, hands gripping the wheel, Spence steered his beloved Maverick along empty country roads early Monday morning, June 26. He’d invited me as his plus-one to an event that had caused him organizing nightmares. And I was making him late.

Cleveland Lead Advocates for Safe Housing (CLASH), an all volunteer organization, is conducting a study of barriers to child lead testing with Monica, their volunteer scientist from Thriving Earth Exchange and the University of Arizona. The event was her onsite visit. Spence grumbled that planning the event was like “herding cats.”

A week before the event, Spence and I walked along West Creek Road grinding gravel under our feet while he ground his teeth. “No one will be happier to see July than me.” He clenched his fists. “Independence Day has a new meaning.”

Because we attended a memorial for our son-in-law’s sister in North East, Pennsylvania, Spence and I missed the welcome for Monica at the hotel Sunday evening. Spence planned a one-on-one with her Monday before the events started at noon.

After all the support he’d given me in June—from his hand up climbing under Cook Forest’s ancient hemlocks to his hand steadying me on the path beside Presque Isle Bay—I wanted to support him.

“I need to leave at eight,” he’d said. “I have a meeting at ten.” A tight schedule for dropping me at Jennifer’s and getting into town, but I trusted him. He’d made the trip from Wells Wood to Cleveland more than a thousand times.

Setting my alarm for 5:40 a.m., I piled clothes, snacks, and electronic essentials for shoving into my bags when I woke. Skipping morning writing and yoga, I gulped breakfast, raced through dish washing, and jogged between litter boxes. Unfortunately, the cats deposited extra poop. I didn’t buckle my seat belt until 8:11.

Without a single recriminating word, Spence drove. We had little traffic, but hammering rain slowed us in Orwell. Fifteen minutes later than planned, he dropped me at Jennifer’s in Novelty.

Jennifer and I hugged. We totted my bags to her kitchen counter. I counted. “Oh, no. I’m missing my food.”

“Call Spence.” She grabbed her keys. “I drive you to meet him.”

We hustled to her van, and I pressed Spence’s icon. “I forgot my food bag. Jennifer’s driving. We’ll meet you at the corner of Heath and Sperry.”

A long sigh came over the phone. He must have been chanting Independence Day has a new meaning. His plus-one had become minus-plenty.

With raindrops bouncing off the pavement, Spence and Jennifer passed the grocery bag of food in the intersection. He drove off a second time, arriving forty-five minutes late for his appointment—luckily Monica ran late too. Despite repeated email reminders that morning, the noon appointment didn’t show. Succeeding interviews proved productive. The evening focus group for child care workers in Brooklyn, Ohio, had four, of the twelve child care workers that signed up, attend.

Meanwhile, Jennifer and I sipped tea in a refreshing breeze on her back porch while rain drummed the metal roof. In her store, Jane Austen Books, we unpacked and shelved items she’d taken to PRIDE in Geauga. Though I squinted to read authors' names, being surrounded by Jane Austen books, puzzles, and stationery enchanted me. Then, to my surprise, Jennifer said her daughter and grandson wanted to see me. We dashed through the rain and sat under a huge red porch umbrella that swayed in the wind and dumped bucketfuls of water when least expected. Their adorable mixed collie-size puppy bumped knees, gathering pets. Back at the store, I packed, labeled, and gawked at books before Jennifer fed me and drove, dodging several racing rabbits, to MidTown.

From Jane Austen Books

We hugged goodbye in the lobby of Tru by Hilton, and I walked to the elevator. Pushing the call button, my cell phone rang.

Spence's voice came over the microwaves. “Checking on you.”

“I had a fantastic day.” Not wanting to lose connection in the elevator, I returned to the lobby. “And yours?”

“Not a disaster.” His voice softened. “That’s the football stadium.” He resumed his regular volume. “I’m giving Monica a tour.” 

“Hi, Janet,” she called.

I imagined Spence and Monica with the phone between them in the Maverick’s console. “Hi, Monica. I hope you’re enjoying Cleveland.”

“Yes. Spence took me to see the lake.”

“Monica wanted to get a selfie with Lake Erie.” Back to the tour voice. “That’s City Hall.”

At 9:50, after fifteen more minutes of three-way chatting, Spence and Monica walked into the lobby. Despite her long day, Monica—petite with a full head of gorgeous, long, curly hair—strode erect, backpack slung over her shoulder, and a warm welcoming smile on her face. I would learn that smile was her signature.

Returning the smile, I welcomed her with a hug as if she was the friend she would shortly become.

My plus-one status fared better Tuesday even though I didn’t get up at 5:00 to join Spence in the lobby where he sipped coffee, munched almonds, and tapped computer keys. I slept another hour before slipping on hotel bath towels over the fake wood floor for yoga. Then I sat across from him at an elevated computer table keeping him silent company while he filled in computer spreadsheets.

My friend Darlene, a retired nurse, arrived the same time as Spence’s CLASH day started. He sent his research people off to talk with the Director of Public Health downtown then gave Darlene and I a quick tour of Tech Hive across the street from the hotel.

Since I wibble-wobbled getting to the door, Darlene grabbed my arm—something she did the rest of the day when we walked. “Do you want to see Deva? I checked. She’s working today.” Deva, Darlene’s youngest daughter and my daughter’s best friend, is branch manager of Maple Heights Library.

Driving from MidTown to Maple Heights, Darlene switched lanes and dodged orange barrels among more cars than I’d seen in Western Pennsylvania during all ten years of my retirement.

We surprised Deva. I gave her a bear hug. She gave us a tour of the children’s room upstairs with areas for babies through teens. The impressive supply of emergent readers, creative toys, and a calming center with bubbling fountain tempted my inner child to flop on the rug and play.

Darlene took a different route north encountering even more construction and a five car pileup complete with an ambulance, siren blaring toward the scene. Being inside her second floor condo with a view of trees outside felt safe—especially with birds flocking birds to feeders her neighbors had hung in their yard below. Rain pelted trees and filled the creek to roaring.

 

Janet and Darlene at Tech Hive

I introduced Darlene to Cornell Lab’s Merlin bird app for her phone. She downloaded the app. Not wanting to scare the birds, Darlene stood by the screen door to her deck, recorded bird songs, and used the bird identifying section. Mesmerized, she discovered names for visitors to the feeders she’d been seeing for a while—grackles, juvenile gray catbirds, red-bellied woodpeckers, and white-breasted nuthatches. We spent a quiet afternoon chatting and bird watching until Spence called.

“Where are you?”

“Still at Darlene’s.”

“Stop at the chicken rotisserie. It’s across from Whole Foods.” He sounded busy. “You couldn’t eat anything from the pizza shop.”

While fetching food for the evening focus group of parents, I’d become a problem for him again. “Don’t worry. We’ll handle it.”

But Darlene shook her head furiously at the rotisserie idea. “They use butter.” Instead, we circled the Whole Foods hot salad bar selecting fish, brown rice, and green vegetables.

At Tech Hive, I connected faces to CLASH names I’d heard for years. Darrick has the same beard and baseball cap as Spence making it easy to see why people call them brothers. Erika has the sister smile of Monica’s and wore bright red which highlighted her dimples. Yvonka, the other mastermind of CLASH, came dressed to impress from her bold gold necklace to her high heel sandals. She didn’t go inside the room like Darrick, who facilitated for Monica with the seven participants, but stayed out with Spence and me.

Yvonka asked for the whole story of me moving into Spence’s locker in high school. She told stories about the Lee-Harvard community where Darlene had given me the construction tour. Yvonka also discussed cultures of different Cleveland neighborhoods with Spence. Near the end of the evening, Spence carried supplies to his truck. I opened the locked door to let him back in.

After the group, Monica sat alone in the room. She needed to write notes, gather her thoughts, and rest. The experiences of getting lead testing for children were so dark that they drained her.

Spence made sure Tech Hive was secure then called the manager to lock the building remotely. As I walked Monica back to the hotel, I felt better about supporting Spence.

Wednesday gave me the chance to be Spence’s plus-one without interruption. We settled around a corner table in Cafe Phix at Tech Hive for a breakfast meeting with our friend Cory and Monica. Spence and I wanted to catch up with Cory and his family news—his mom loved my Florida photos and story plus he’s going to be a grandpa.

Monica, intrigued that Cory had a paint company, made a request. “I’m using the creds of these two special people to ask you this. Do you have any old samples of paint with lead in it?” The samples would give her the signature of lead from paint so that she could distinguish which lead in the environment came from paint rather than other sources. Paint companies weren’t forthcoming in providing samples for her studies.

Cory stared at his folded hands. “We haven’t used lead in paint for twenty to twenty-five years.” He looked into Monica’s eyes. “It would be unfortunate if we still had samples. But, I will check and let you know.”

After two hours of friendly chatter, Cory left for work, and the three of us moved into the Tech Hive open community space to spread out at a long table. Spence and Monica reviewed the slide presentation for Monica’s 1:00 ZOOM interview with a

biostatistician, who had data on lead testing of children. I quietly scratched notes in my journal.

A few minutes past noon, I spotted our son-in-law Chris crossing the street from the hotel parking lot to the front of Tech Hive. Spence had invited Ellen and Chris to take the first of several rest stops on their trip from North East, Pennsylvania back to West Lafayette, Indiana for visiting us in Cleveland. I ran out front to greet them.

The corgis, delighted to be free from the car, tugged on their leashes, raced about peoples’ legs, and watered trees. While Chris and I sat with the dogs, Spence took scientist Ellen inside to meet Monica. Phoenix, the puppy, climbed the benches, stuck his nose in sand, and barked at passers-by. Lyra, the two year old female, calmly accepted pets, watched people with a whipping tail, and let loose a few welcoming barks. Monica returned with Spence and Ellen to see the corgis. Being from Arizona, she especially appreciated Phoenix’s name.

At 1:00, when the corgi crew left, Spence made introductions for the ZOOM meeting.I heated the last piece of the chicken pot pie I’d cooked for the trip. He and I waited outside the “phone booth” while Monica conducted her ZOOM interview. Spence worked on his computer. I ate and wrote in my journal. Around 2:00, we packed up in anticipation of Monica finishing. Her arms waved. She bounced in the chair. The interview continued until she bounded out of the booth with a wide grin.

“You were animated in there,” I said.

“Was I?” She checked her wrist. “My heart beat is up to seventy-one. Usually it's fifty at rest.” She shrugged. “I was taught to mirror the emotion of the subject in interviews. He was excited. I reflected that excitement back.”

“Yvonka is coming at two-thirty.” Spence put his computer in a tote bag.

“She’s taking me for Thai food.” Monica raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have to wait.” She hugged us both and waved us away.

Driving through the smoke from the wildfires in Canada, Spence pointed the Maverick toward Wells Wood. Shoulders relaxed, his fingers gently held the steering wheel.

“Do you feel like a weight has been lifted off your back?’’ I sipped water to ease the soreness the smoke left in my throat. 

“Oh yeah! The event went better than I thought.” Spence stared down Route 322. “Not as good as it could have been. Better than the catastrophe I feared.”

Tru By Hilton