YA’LL COME BACK NOW
When you live 25 miles out in the country, you appreciate anyone who takes the trouble to come visit. We love sharing the beautiful sights out here, but we can’t tempt many visitors to make the drive.
I must confess––there is one kind of guest who is especially fun to entertain. That would be the person who is scared to death of anything that isn’t paved over.
Many people cling to the Atlantic or Pacific rims of our country, afraid to let go and venture to the heartland. When they are in first grade and have to recite the names of all the states, they say, “California, murble, mumble, murble, New York.” My brother-in-law was attending the University of Iowa in Iowa City, and for 3 years his father in L.A. sent his letters to Idaho. Occasionally one of these parochial coastal dwellers does appear in Iowa; they know they’re in some vowel state but not necessarily which one. In their honor, we have shirts here that say, “University of Iowa, Idaho City, Ohio.”
You don’t have to do much to scare the city folks who do visit. If a coyote howls, we can only hope they aren’t sitting on our newly upholstered couch.
We often have University of Iowa students as house sitters. One sitter locked himself outside in his underwear. It’s not like we have a locksmith down at the next corner, and even if we did, it’s not like a locksmith is going to be tickled about a frantic guy in his underwear running up his driveway. I know I wouldn’t be. The poor kid had to use a shovel to break through the steel door between the house and garage. That nicely offset what we were paying him to watch our dogs.
My husband invited his seminar students out for an end-of-semester supper and discussion. It was December and the roads weren’t terrific, but everyone arrived on time except for one. He was from New York City, so we were worried about how he was doing on our icy, twisty road. Finally he called on his cell phone. He had been in our driveway for some time, trying to decide whether it was better to freeze to death or be eaten by a wolf. Our dog, who was ¼ wolf and had silvery blue eyes, apparently had her nose pressed against the driver’s side window.Underwear Guy and Wolf Guy were fun, but surely my most treasured citified guest visited on a beautiful summer night. My son and his rock band were spending the night at our home. One of these fellows had never stepped off the pavement before, and he was very nervous. His eyes kept darting at the window, checking out any movement.
We had a lovely dinner and a relaxing chat afterwards. We’re early-to-bed-and-rise folks, so we said our goodnights and went upstairs. The rockers went out to the screened porch. The worried guy was not too keen on this as it was pitch black out there. He was alarmed by the cicadas singing. When a woodpecker drummed on our roof, he put his hand on his cell phone.
Every so often throughout the evening and into the wee hours I’d hear my son’s friend ask,” What was that?” “What the hell was that?” And when a coyote let out a little yip, “What in the holy hell––?” He was very frightened of our Iowa hyena. He was not embracing our pastoral setting.
Even with our bedroom window closed, we could hear far more of their conversation than we cared to. By 2:00 a.m., the boys had been sampling Iowa’s finest brews for several hours, and they were getting a little raucous. I like entertaining. I like sleep quite a bit more, so I stuck my head out the second-story window. The screened porch was right below me and a little to the right. I could see the bodies strewn over the porch chairs and hear discussions not rated for parental ears.
You know those Screaming Monkeys? It’s a stretchy, cloth monkey that functions like a slingshot. It can sail surprisingly long distances, and while it soars, it lets out a hateful, blood-curdling screech.
The trajectory was perfect. It ripped by the screen porch just inches from where our vigilant visitor was sitting. Chairs and tables tipped over, bottles scattered, all four rock stars screamed, and two of them hit the deck. I have never heard so many foul words in such a short time and for such a long time.
So did I sleep after that? Of course not––I couldn’t stop laughing until well after they left the next day. And I’m pretty sure that if they slept at all, it was with one eye open.
For a demo of Screaming Monkeys:
