JUNE 3, 2021 – When a client called me this morning, he asked, “Are you up on Walden Pond?” He knows of my attachment to the wilds of northern Wisconsin.
“As a matter of fact . . .” I said.
I’m here seeking “the cure” for the obstinate pain I described in Tuesday’s post. Coincidentally, we have friends who, for the week, are renting a cabin down the shore from the Red Cabin. When my wife learned they were here, I called (from the cities) to ask a small favor: Could they open the FedEx package of balsam seedlings delivered to the cabin yesterday, then break into the cabin and put the seedlings in the refrigerator?
After a bit of banter (friend Rich, a master litigator, whether in deposition or closing argument in front of a jury and a brilliantly funny writer on the side, was born with a steroidal wit), friend Melinda, a retired school nurse, asked how I was doing (we hadn’t seen Rich and Melinda since the advent of the pandemic). When I mentioned “sciatica,” Rich switched to serious and whole-heartedly endorsed Melinda’s “magic cure” device—in-light LED infra-red therapy.
“You’re welcome to try it,” Melinda said. “We have the light pads with us up here.”
“If I can fold myself into my car and back out of my car,” I said, “I’m driving up . . . now to give it a try!”
My wife fully endorsed my plan, most likely to be free of my habitual moaning and groaning, particularly during the two hours following my roll out of bed in the morning.
I survived the trip, thanks to over-the-counter medications I snarfed down with yoghurt before the journey.
Upon arriving in paradise, I gave Rich and Melinda a holler, and soon they appeared at the back door of the cabin. After catching up on life, they introduced me to the “miracle cure.” Soon a corner of the Red Cabin was lit up like a spaceship console on a Star Trek set.
I’m not yet levitating, but in my imagination, at least, I’m escaping the gravitational pull of pain. Perhaps more sessions with the “miracle cure” of LED lights on my spine will boost me into carefree orbit.
In the meantime, I’m writing this report while sitting in my “zero gravity chair,” supposedly “developed by NASA” (I kid you not).
Life comes full circle. On rainy days at the cabin when I was a kid, I’d turn the lower bunk in the back bedroom into a Mercury space capsule. My control panel was drawn on the piece of cardboard that I stuck on the underside of the top bunk. While the aroma of fresh baked cinnamon rolls wafted over the open wall that separated my grandmother’s world from my make-believe zone, I flew missions to the moon and beyond. I was preparing myself for what I then wanted to be “when I grew up.”
I’ve now flown full circle . . . over Walden Pond.
(Remember to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.)
© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
