Seeing

"You MUST see Topanga Canyon," he said.

I was let out in front of the grocery store, which shared the small strip mall with an alternative therapy practitioner's office and a gift shop. It was, and based on the scene in David Crosby's recent movie, is still, the hub of the universe.

Standing there wondering what to do next, I was hailed from the end of the walk by none other than Panama Red, the leader of a troop of "Lost Boys" who had a camp on the mountainside near Twin Poles swimming hole. It was they who turned me on to the bounty available from the dumpsters behind grocery stores.

Later that summer I visited my Mom in El Paso. I arrived to find the refrigerator empty and no money for food. My brother and sister were too young to be aware of the situation, but my sister took note as, over the following two days, I filled the refrigerator so full you had to push the door closed. My "findings" included milk, cottage cheese, blocks of cheddar cheese (with maybe a scrim of mold), all manner of vegetables, and the prize: a solidly frozen (when found), four-pound chuck roast, the basis of a grand meal for all.

Last September I went to Stanford Eye Institute to consult with Dr. Lin about a cornea transplant. Several previous consultants had been encouraging (income!). Dr. Lin however, after inquiring about my lifestyle, explained that a cornea transplant is similar to any other organ transplant and requires the life-long taking of anti-rejection drugs. And, based on my living conditions, with it's proximity to pathogens (dirt), he declined to perform the operation. He was sympathetic though and allowed as how if ever I took up residence in a place that was relatively germ-free, he'd be happy to do the deed. The cataract on my right eye was no problem and over the next ten days, with eyesight in one eye restored, I acquired a renewed lease on my nomadicism.

Since that time, I've had an eye out (get it? -- one-eyed...an eye) for a "Thank You" for Dr. Lin. Passing through Mancos, Colorado the other day (August 24 blogpost) I espied (an act of seeing) the calligraphy of Beth Wheeler. After a phone conversation about what I had in mind we reached an agreement and when I passed through a few weeks ago her husband Herb, who owns a frame shop, and I spent an hour designing the frame. He said he'd call in a few days with the amount. I was atop a mountain taking in a nearly 360-degree vista when the phone rang. "$750.00," he said, "including the art."

An involuntary gasp escaped. Embarrassed by my reaction -- I'd dealt in art that sold in the thousands -- I reminded myself of the priceless gift I was, at that very moment, enjoying to its hilt.

In our conversation Beth had mentioned monthly pilgrimages to Albuquerque for treatment of ovarian cancer. She and Herb stay at a motel near the hospital, mostly, I suspect, for the convenience of proximity. I know they're not wealthy; the money would help defray some of their expenses. I took another gander at the magnificent view (and a deep breath) and said, "Yes!"

Herb Folsom & Beth Wheeler

The top word is Sight, as in the physical capacity.

The bottom word is Seeing.

I have no idea what the cost of materials for the frame were; I'm speculating they might even be as much as half; it's a work of art in itself. These days that might be enough to half-fill a refrigerator. It might cover the cost of the motel for a few days.

But when I had the gallery and worked with the media on a day-to-day basis, I discovered how infrequently people say thank you. And Dr. Lin deserves a BIG thank you...not least for saving me from the annoyance of having to have my left eye removed after the transplant went bad.

Her doctor describes ovarian cancer as "smart;" it quickly finds a way around the current treatment. This week she'll start a new regimen -- to be administered every two weeks -- instead of once a month. They'll bring the finished piece for Dr. Lin on Tuesday or Wednesday. (Mailed 10/10)

I've always been grateful for having SEEN Topanga Canyon. Without sight I couldn't have gleaned from those dumpsters. And I'd never have been able to run a gallery and help keep those artists from having to take jobs. And the view from that mountaintop the other day will stay with me for the rest of my life. And I'm eager to see Beth and Herb.