While Venus Passed

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While Venus was in transit across the sun, I was on my knees in a shoe store helping my mother try on shoes. The wonder of the former is obvious. The wonder in the latter situation was the mere fact that my mother had gone along with the idea of buying new shoes, an action which involves two things that upset her: a change in what is familiar, and the expenditure of money. She gets attached to whatever she already has, no matter its condition, and she is apparently stuck at some point in the old days when things were priced as she believes they should be, when a perfectly fine pair of shoes, for example, might set you back two bucks--that's her scale. So whenever we attempt any kind of shopping, one key to success is to prevent her from seeing the prices.  It's also helpful to tell her that everything is on sale.

But anyway, she agreed to get new shoes, and Venus was in transit across the sun, and I was on the floor of an Orange County shoe store.It was an unpleasant and humbling task. I once read in an article by a gerontologist that the condition of the feet is an excellent indicator of an elderly person's general well-being and the care he or she is receiving.

Not such good scores here. When I peeled away her socks, damp and stained with various oozings, I saw inflammation and neglect and desiccated yellow nails on twisted toes. She had a gash on her ankle protected by a napkin that she had tucked into her sock. I bought soft new socks for her and discreetly threw the old ones in the trash, and after several attempts and squeals (she's loud) and tentative hobbling around, we finally managed to find a comfortable pair of shoes. She pronounced them "feminine" because instead of shoelaces these have velcro straps, Mary Jane style, and she likes the fact that they are open on top and don't cut into the sore part of her bone as apparently her old ones had been doing. "Half price too," I lied, which made her like them even more. I hoped to discard the old ones, which frankly reeked, but I had to placate her by putting them into the box and bringing them back to her room.

Afterwards I stopped by the med room and put in requests for podiatry visits and a more diligent routine of washing, and I left with a tiny sense of accomplishment, fleeting though it may be.

The point being, sometimes that's all you can hope for.  

In the evening, Monte and I went for a walk after dinner. Because we always vote early by mail, I'd forgotten that it was election day, and I was surprised by the sight of that theater turned church turned polling place, its doors still open, citizens within casting their votes behind curtains at the end of the day. The voting sign pointing straight to the cross did give me pause, but there's always something affirmative about seeing people tending to their civic duties. Sure, the political scene is contentious and economic reports dire, but in the gold waning light it was easy to feel for a moment that things were okay.

People were out and about, socializing at tables along the street and strolling around the circle. I had resisted ice cream but now succumbed to a celebratory macaroon from a glass display case of baked goods at Watson's Drug and Soda Fountain. We paused to look up at the old fruit exchange building, peered into stores all a'jumble with stuff, and noticed this sign for  updos at the beauty school. (You never know when you might need an updo.)

Across the street a row of windows with blue awnings were lined up wide-eyed against an indigo sky.  A celestial event had transpired that won't occur again within our lifetimes.  I don't mind knowing I spent my day on the planet trying to be kind, glimpsing democracy in action, and walking around with someone I love, enjoying a macaroon. I don't mind at all.