Tune in every week to read about the adventures of Buck Buchanan,
fictional country mailman, delivering mail out of Starz, Texas. He takes his
job seriously and knows that customers count on him to deliver every piece of
mail entitled to them. He is all about customer service. With a willing ear and
a helping hand, Buck Buchanan goes the extra mile.
* * *
Low
clouds sat on the horizon and I knew there would be a storm before I finished
the mail route. When the breeze started, I gripped the Geske’s mail a little
tighter before opening my window. Wind whistled around my face and the smell of
rain triggered a memory that I hoped would be one in a lifetime. This was the
kind of day that made it all come back.
My
wife and I hadn’t been married but two weeks when we started moving things from
her apartment to my house. The first load in the back of my pickup held a
mattress, an L-shaped sofa, and boxes. Two sofa cushions were between us in the
front seat, blocking our view of each other, but the drive only took twenty
minutes. Halfway there, I noticed the wind begin to get stronger as the weather
front got closer. We would make it to my house in plenty of time before rain
began. I sensed the mattress moving in the back so pulled to the side of the
road and had my wife drive while I rode in the back to keep it steady. She must
not have been as sure as I was about the rain because she kept driving faster
and faster. Wind fluffed up under that sofa and just as I was yelling at her to
slow down, I felt myself airborne. The next instant I hit pavement, slid on my
back for what seemed like a year, did one final tumble and landed on the short
part of the sofa that had once been in the back of the pickup. Later, a friend
said he happened to pass by and wondered why I was sitting on a sofa on the
side of the road. I guess that’s how I looked, as that’s exactly what my wife
said to herself when she looked in the rearview mirror. I can’t say as I paid
too much attention to what was going on at that time, but I did see her and the
sofa cushions backing up. When she finally reached where I sat, I got in the
front seat, shoved those monstrous cushions over and said, “Take me home.”
I
could have said quite a bit more, but I had been divorced once and it seemed
prudent at the time to bite my tongue and bear the pain in silence. I just
needed to get home, take a shower to wash off the gravel and asphalt, and lay
down a bit. I should have started this account by remembering that Jim George
was redoing the bathroom in our house. We only had one. When we drove in the
driveway, I didn’t remember that bit of information but when I stepped in the
doorway of the bathroom, it was clear. The toilet sat in the bathtub. Lucky for
me, Jim hadn’t turned off the main water supply so all I had to do was lift
that toilet out, set it on the half-finished floor, and turn on the shower. It
didn’t take long for me to shuck out of my shorts and shirt, all the while
looking forward to that water soothing the scratches on my back. I just knew if
I could get that gravel off, I’d feel a lot better.
When
I stepped under that spray, I let out a yell of pain that some say they heard a
block away. I did notice that my bride’s face was white. Her eyes were mighty
big as well, bless her heart. I’m not known for holding much in. I always
figured it is healthier to let it all out rather than hold anything inside, but
that yell went deeper than any I could remember. After grabbing a sheet, I
wrapped it around me and went to lie down on the bed, trying to decide just how
badly injured I was. From my wife’s expression, I figured it was worse than I
originally thought.
Then
the pain hit hard and not just on my back. My ankles, calves, buttocks and arms
were road-burned and if my back looked as bad as those did, I needed to be
somewhere else besides this bed. Standing took monumental effort and walking
was beginning to be doubtful. As I got to the front door, I sighed with relief
that I wouldn’t have to ride with overstuffed sofa cushions. Jim George
happened to drive up at that moment and I limped to his old black truck and
opened the passenger door before he opened his.
“Take
me to the hospital.”
He
didn’t blink. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t hurry, either, for it took him as
long to move that rickety gearshift and back out of the driveway as it takes me
to take out the trash. Nor did Jim believe in main roads; could be because of
the missing inspection sticker on the windshield and the whiskey flask in his
pocket. We bumped along rutted, gravel alleys until he drove in front of the
emergency room of the small hospital, manned mostly by nuns. By this time, I
was hurting badly and knew if I didn’t get inside quick, I might not make it. I
did manage to clutch the sheet with both hands, but sure didn’t want it
touching me anywhere.
The
first nun screamed and ran as I barreled into the emergency room buck-naked
with the sheet flying out behind me like Superman’s cape. I did have an over
abundance of black hair and weighed twice as much as Jim George, so I certainly
understand that my arrival might have disturbed her, but I needed the Doc.
Luckily Abby Linn was on duty as well and since she knew me and wasn’t a nun,
she took charge and had me lying face down on a gurney before I could disturb
anyone else.
As
I said before, I didn’t believe in holding back so when that cold saline hit my
back, I let out a yell that rocked the hospital. Doc didn’t say anything,
though; he just kept on cleaning that gravel off my skin. I didn’t faint but I
came close because the ordeal took forty minutes. My watch had survived the
pavement assault and I listened to it tick as I lay there. Abby Linn finally
gave me a shot and I guess it must have quieted me, but it only took the edge
off. I felt every swipe of cotton pad that went over my flesh. Finally, they
smeared yellow ointment all over my back and wheeled me up to the second floor
to a room in the back of the hospital. Doc had to help because none of the nuns
would come close.
After
rigging a frame to drape a sheet over my naked body so it wouldn’t touch me
anywhere, Abby left me alone to let the trauma subside. Two days later, I went
home and spent another few days in bed before putting on any clothes. Jim
George came through and had the toilet installed and the floor finished before
my bride and I got home, for she stayed with me the entire two days in the
hospital and slept in a spare bed that Abby found for her.
Shortly
afterwards my wife went to the store and saw one of my domino hall buddies. She
was new to town and didn’t understand whose health he was inquiring about when
he asked about “Buck.” He had to explain. “Buck – as in buck naked.” They both
must have found it amusing because that’s when she started calling me, Buck.
My
cell rang, breaking my thoughts, and I stayed in the Geske’s drive to answer
the postmaster. “I put eight packages on the Miller’s porch yesterday. I’ve got
two more to take today.” I felt my shoulders slump. “Okay, I’ll pick them all
up when I drop these off.”
I
shook my head and sighed. There’s nothing like carrying fifty-pound boxes back
and forth to a customer who can’t make up his or her mind. Suddenly a young
coyote dashed across the road in front of me holding something in its mouth. I
couldn’t discern what he had until a possum chased right behind. After a loud
honk on my horn, the coyote appeared startled and dropped his prize, but didn’t
hesitate to dash through the bushes on the side of the road and disappear. The
possum stopped immediately, nudged the small dark bundle and when it began
toddling across the dirt, the mama snatched it up and placed it on her back.
They locked tails and off they went in the opposite direction of the half-grown
coyote. Odd. I’d never seen a possum in the fields during the day and I sure
hadn’t seen one chase a coyote, but motherhood takes all kinds of forms.
Suddenly,
carrying the Miller boxes didn’t seem like all that much trouble. After all,
mail is mail and that is my job – delivering everything addressed to a
customer, no matter the weight or size. It’s all about service.
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