The crowd went wild. More than 150 tiny kindergarteners, who had not had the opportunity to go outside for recess due to drizzly weather, were crowded at my feet. They giggled and clapped at my antics as I told them stories. Because I like the sound of children laughing I was sillier still. I was the Lucille Ball of Storytelling.
OK, I know they were only kindergarteners, so perhaps my self-esteem shouldn’t be so high. It doesn’t take much to please them. But, when they applaud, I feel like Sally Fields on Oscar Night, “You like me! You really like me!” Bless her heart.
When the program ended, one fraction of children couldn’t contain themselves any more. They rushed me for a group hug. The little urchins encircled me clinging to my legs like so many paper clips to a magnet. One by one they unpeeled themselves at their teacher’s call. They obediently put “bubbles in their mouths and duck tails behind” as they tripped down the hall to their classes.
Each of them stole a glance and ventured a wink and a wave as they left. For one brief moment, I basked in the warmth of their adoration. I felt like the Beatles must have when their fans swarmed: a mixture of awe, gratitude, and sheer terror at the force of their adulation.
Then I glanced down at my pants. Just above mid-thigh, there was a ring of slimy snot smeared to my black pants all the way around! I felt like the obsessive-compulsive television detective, “Mr. Monk.” I wanted to yell, “Wipes!”
That should have been my first clue. I worked two more days in south Texas in cold wet weather. After the nine hour drive home, I could feel the cold coming on fast.
It could have been worse. It could have been the flu (because I’m never smart enough to get a flu vaccine). There is a school district in Eustace, TX that closed down this week for two days to disinfect the schools. One fourth of the children were sick with flu-like symptoms.
I meant to write early last month about cold remedies that our mother’s used. I wish I had. In the fog of the congestion, I couldn’t remember many of them.
While I could still stand up, I did make chicken soup with lots of onion and garlic in it. It must have been better than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle, but I can’t honestly say my taste buds noticed it.
I knew I would want “comfort food,” so I mixed up some Jell-O. All I had was lime, and lime green reminded me of snot, so I didn’t really want to eat it. Have you seen Jell-O when you leave it in the refrigerator with no cover on it? It gets hard enough to use as a weapon.
The main thing I could remember through the haze was Vicks VapoRub. That blue jar holds the magic treasure that will cure you or kill you. Momma swore by it. I’ll swear by anything, especially when I don’t feel well. In fact, I swear a lot. Fortunately, I had a jar of the nasty goo in the medicine cabinet. It is probably twenty years old, but that stuff never loses its smell. As disgusting as VapoRub is, it works.
I vaguely remember a “toddy” Momma used to make for our coughs. It was a combination of warmed butter, honey and whiskey. I don’t remember the proportions, and I don’t really have a cough, but I might try it today. With enough whiskey, I might not care that I’m sick.
Tell me the home remedies your Momma used, so I can have a reference for next time. It’s obvious that I need a bigger repertoire of remedies.
There will be a next time. It’s unavoidable. I work with audiences comprised of passels of pestilent pathogens, which is another way of saying “children.” Hail to the teachers who are exposed to the little clouds of germs every day.
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