Counting by 7s(55)

I’m wondering now about his parents.

Maybe as a toddler he was locked in a woodshed in a cold climate for extended periods of time.

He appears to have just been let out.

Looking at him as he reads the letter a sixth time aloud, I realize he’s sort of weeping.

I assure him that being the building rep is a big honor that he richly deserves.

The next thing I know, he’s down in the garage putting a sign in front of the best parking space in the open carport.

It reads:

RESERVED FOR BUILDING REP

DELL DUKE: UNIT 28

I guess he just doesn’t get what being of service means.



Now that we have permission, the plan can be executed.

It’s Saturday, and we’re all here except Pattie, who has the most customers on the weekends.

I ask Quang-ha how he would suggest we remove the red lava rock. I’m secretly thinking he might want to get involved in all of this.

He isn’t remotely interested.

But apparently he got something out of Tom Sawyer, even if he didn’t read it or write the paper on Mark Twain.

He only says:

“Give the rock away. People love anything they think is free.”

This strikes me as accurate.

I go down the hall to discuss the idea with Dell. Sadhu is there in the living room.

He’s a lot nicer to me since I made Dell a computer. He has even asked my opinion on a few technical things.

And I’m allowed to borrow his fifteen-watt soldering gun.

When I explain to Dell that my plan is to give away the rock, Sadhu says: “List it online. It will be gone before you know it.”



I post an offering of free red lava landscaping rock.

I say that if you can haul it away, you can have it.

Only 7 minutes later, I get my first response.

Quang-ha appears to be right.

The idea of something for nothing is appealing in some visceral way.

Even if free things are never free.

The burden of ownership means everything has a price.

I think that’s why really rich and famous people look so weighed down and glum in most photos.

They know that they have to keep their guard up. They have things other people want.



I have said that the red rock is on a first come, first serve basis.

Before I know what’s going on, I have four different people over here fighting over the stuff.

The lava rock enthusiasts scare me.

Since Dell is now the building rep, I make him go down and deal with it.

I have no idea what he says, but Mai and I hear all kinds of shouting.

The important thing is that in two hours all of the rock is gone, and so is the ripped black plastic sheeting underneath.

I said that it was also free.

We all head downstairs (even Quang-ha wants a look) and we stare at the newly exposed dirt.

What remains is only the hard-packed ground. It’s not even brown. It’s dusty gray.

Maybe the construction crew dumped a few leftover bags of concrete on their way out.

I guess everyone is thinking the same thing, but Quang-ha is always the one who gives the unspoken a voice.

He says:

“Nothing’s going to grow here.”

Pattie has just come home from work and she seems more worn out than usual. She stands with us and stares at the big rectangle of nothing. Finally she adds: “It’s a bigger-looking space when it’s not covered with rocks.”

Dell chimes in:

“And a bigger project than anyone thought.”

Pattie sighs and starts up the stairs.

“Most things are.”

I don’t want to be crushed, but it’s possible they are talking about me, not the ugly, exposed area that is now the centerpiece of the courtyard.

Mai puts her hand on my shoulder. She says:

“Let’s go eat. Everything looks better in the daylight.”



It looks even worse in the full sun.

I go downstairs early, and it’s only me and the dirt, which I now realize has a gritty top, like someone sprinkled coarse sea salt on a gray cracker.

Even if I got everyone in this entire complex to join me here with garden tools, I don’t think we could make it happen.

Plus I’ve only seen a few of the other residents. And they don’t look like people who would want to swing a pickaxe.

Regular soil is a crazy mix of everything from fine rock fragments to water, air, insects, and even bacteria and fungi.

It’s all necessary.

I remember the first time I looked under the microscope at a pinch of the dirt from my own backyard.

It was a shocker.

Now, as I think about this open space, I know what has to be done.

Deep tilling of the soil isn’t a good idea unless you are facing the kind of ground we have here in the Gardens of Glenwood.

But this situation calls for heavy machinery.

We have to rent a Rototiller.

I can’t do this myself for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which is that you have to be eighteen years old to even legally operate the equipment.

I go back upstairs, and when Mai wakes up, I explain the situation.

She doesn’t look like she has any idea what I’m talking about, even when I clarify that a Rototiller is a machine with sharp blades that mechanically chop soil.