My husband got a call from “Darcy.”
She works at “All Aboard Arts,” a local arts organization that benefits developmentally disabled adults by giving them an outlet to create and sell art in an inclusive and nurturing environment.
My husband has been doing the electrical work for “All Aboard Arts” for just about a decade now.
He knows Darcy well.
And so when she called him the other day, a little hesitant with a problem she and the others at “All Aboard Arts” were having, she wasn’t quite sure who to reach out to but figured she’d give my husband a call.
The problem… or problems in question were an electric pencil sharpener and the sensor on an automatic water fountain.
“Did my husband know anything about electronics? Or maybe did he have an electrical reason that might explain why both appliances were behaving oddly?”
My husband said that he knew nothing about the mechanics of electric pencil sharpeners or automatic water fountains.
“Were they perhaps malfunctioning at the same time? Could they be on the same circuit?” My husband had asked.
Darcy told him that they were not on the same circuit and they were not malfunctioning at the same time.
My husband went through a slew of other possibilities, Darcy answering “no” to each possible reason as to why these two machines might be acting on the fritz.
When my husband and Darcy had exhausted every possibility my husband sighed then laughed just a bit… before joking that maybe Darcy “should just burn some sage to clear up whatever was going on.”
He waited for her to laugh too but there was dead silence on the other end of the line.
And when she finally spoke… “You know… funny you should say that,” she said, “I don’t know what I was expecting you to tell me, maybe give me a reason for why this is happening…” she paused for a minute before continuing, “Two weeks ago one of our member artists died. She absolutely loved being here. Her favorite thing to do was sharpen pencils and use the automatic water fountain. The day after she died, both the pencil sharpener and the fountain started going off on their own. We called you as a last ditch effort to chalk this phenomenon up to something electrical in nature… and now… well, that’s not what seems to be going on…”
And my husband agreed that that was definitely not what was going on.
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I never knew this member artist. But I’d like to think her a kindred spirit. I find something beautiful in her finding her safe space, her forever space in a little art studio, surrounded by friends in an old building filled with brightly colored paintings and sculptures. I picture her smiling, a brand new pencil fresh out of the box, the pull of the machine as she slides the blunt ended pencil into the sharpener and it catches with a loud whirl of the blade, she holds tightly, pushing the pencil in just so. Maybe she lingers, sharpening it down needlessly far, no matter: she’s happy; she’s home.
“The Real Ghostbusters” Available in Original and Prints
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