CRUMBS OF CANDOR: Dust bunny: Friend or foe?

Published 11:30 am Saturday, October 28, 2023

Recently, my daughter, Pat, and Zachary, my great grandson she is rearing, and I took a vacation to the Smokey Mountains — Pigeon forge, Sevierville and Gatlinburg.

She hadn’t been since she was about 11 years old. The area has changed more than a wee bit. I’ve been there often through the last 25 years and each visit becomes more congested and pricey. The locals refer to visitors as “tourons.”

Soon, I will complete my 76th trip around the sun. Whether one speaks discreetly or diplomatically, the truth is that is officially old,

Dust bunnies, sometimes my only companion, no longer attack. We have sort of formed a truce. They simply watch in awe and amazement, but thankfully don’t talk back.

Anyway, we had very nice accommodations with a beautiful, serene balcony view of a babbling creek overrun with various rocks and filled with ducks and geese — but not a single dust bunny.

We had full days planned, so the first night we unpacked, rested and ate out. Zach was very excited to eat in a real saloon, posing for pictures on a barstool and a couple of saddles.

Our first full day began after a leisurely breakfast with tickets for the Redneck Comedy bus tour, with a couple of stops including a breathtaking view of Gatlinburg from a lookout point. Fall colors were just beginning to pop and the climate was idyllic — unlike me.

Departing the bus at the first stop, I misjudged the depth of the step departing the bus — it was at least a foot deep — and promptly landed smack on my keister. It was quite a jar. Having had previous experience I immediately diagnosed myself with a broken tailbone — but I was off by a few inches.

Back at home, my spinal surgeon declared it a very bad sacrum contusion — in lay terms, it’s a very bad stone bruise to the entire sacrum. There was no way I could drive, because it’s nearly impossible to sit in any position on any surface. Happiness is having another driver along.

The word “quit” is not in my vocabulary. As I hobbled along we kept every planned destination, though I confess to reclining in the back seat as they roamed the Island.

Shifting from cheek to cheek, I can still barely sit even with the sacral cushion — however, I am grateful. It could easily have been much worse with a broken pelvis or a hip or two. The Lord still watches out for children and fools.

We spent most of the next day at Skyland Ranch, highly recommended. A free show went on almost constantly in front of the mercantile. The large area was filled with comfortable chairs, cornhole and other games. We could have spent the entire day there with all they had to offer.

I watched a fancy cowboy who was skilled in handling and spinning elaborate, shiny six shooters, bullwhips and roping. Next, a country band played.

Our last full day, they went to the Island and rode the gigantic enclosed Ferris wheel, shopped for souvenirs and snacks as I tried to get comfortable in the backseat.

That night we attended the Dixie Stampede. Not my first time there, but we all enjoyed it immensely and brought home more food than we were able to eat.

The show was wonderful as always, with good, clean fun, an animated rivalry including everyone and amazingly talented horse riders, dancers, singers and more. The patriotic finale made me weep.

On the way home, we surprised my grandsons and their families to tour the new home of the one who just relocated from Michigan. We arrived home safely but exhausted about 11:30 p.m.

Having always had a pet to greet me, I was surprised as dust bunnies greeted me at the door. I may or may not have claimed one as a pet. After all, it doesn’t wake me at 3 a.m. to do its business.

With rare exceptions everyone near my age bracket knows that we can’t do what we used to causing us to lower our standards on organization and cleaning schedules a bit — or a lot. Though I can still defend myself with a broom.

Mine has been reduced several times, but currently I cannot even sit and watch the dust settle. My recliner is definitely off limits until more healing happens.

There was a time when I joked that the dust bunnies were going to attack or even cause me to trip and fall, but they are no longer a threat. Why, you might ask? Because they’re now too busy camouflaging the Grim Reaper who seems to lurk around me all the time.

Perhaps he is the actual culprit who pushed me down that step.