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April 25, 2006



I'm not sure where all the poison oak went, but I have 2 comments.

1) I vividly remember Dad with poison oak. My mental photo is clear - we are sitting at the dining table on Clay Rd. and Dad has to dine with a hand towel draped over the enormous blister covering his arm so as not to make everyone retch. To call it a blister is to call the Sahara a sand box. I was grotesquely intrigued. On occassion, I would steel my nerves and work myself up to look under the make-shift tent covering the main attaction at the freak show. That fact that I would do this tells me I probably could have been a nurse, possibly on a burn unit.

2. When I went to Camp St. Michael's as a child (I hated the place!), we had to take a nature test. One of the plants you were ultimately tested on was poison oak. During my test, the counselor pointed to a clutster of plants and asked me to identify one of the green things. The plant was surrounded by hundreds of other plants (this was the Redwoods afterall), and I honestly didn't know what she was intending to point at. So I reached out and touched one, sking, "Which one? This one?" She screamed and jerked my hand back, not the least bit Christian in her response. The lightbulb went off, and I aced that test.


Yes, I too remember the dining table scene, which went on a long time. But, I also remember traveling to a swim meet while he had the blisters. Not only did he have to eat w/ the towel over his arm, he had to drive our sweet van with it draped over his arm too. Poor man. And we were probably going someplace blisteringly (pun intended!) hot like Ukiah or Willits.

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