CATEGORY: CENTRAL OREGON

One activity that I passingly indulged in while living at our Tumalo house was the Bend Little Theater.  I only did this for one play because it was too much to drive into Bend in the evenings with the children.

One of the people I met at the little theater was Phyllis Maintland.  She was a pretty blonde who had recently left her husband and moved to Bend from Burns.  She liked to tell stories about Burns.  One story was that while she lived there, a man got convicted for stealing horses and was sentenced to fifteen years in prison.  Two years later, a man was arrested for shooting and killing his wife.  It was a pathetic scene in which there were three little children clinging to her skirts, screaming and crying when he shot her.  This man was only sentenced to five years and was soon released on bail for good behavior.  Burns judges had values; they knew what was important.

Phyllis was a smiling, good natured, happy young woman.  She was happy to the point of oblivion.  She always had boyfriends.  Some of them were straight out of bizarreville–I mean re-e-e-a-a-al-ly strange.  One dark winter evening I was sitting on the sofa in the cozy living room of our remote country home helping Jari with her knitting.  She was sitting on a low stool facing me.  Our front door had a little square window in the top of it, turned at a 45° angle.  I heard a slight noise and looked up at the door.  There, with his face pressed against the glass, was Phyllis’s latest boyfriend.  He hadn’t even knocked but was just staring at us through the window.  I heard myself screaming.  I can’t remember ever having screamed before about anything.  At the instant I realized I was screaming, I saw Jari shudder, close her eyes, and turn her face away from the door.  I could have cried because I screamed before I even thought what I was doing.  Her obvious fear shut me up.

I can’t even remember this guy’s name.  He was a huge puddle of a man.  I got up and opened the door.  He was very drunk.  When he stepped inside, tears were streaming down his face.  He said he was so, so sorry he had frightened us.  He told me he had asked around until he had found out where I lived, because he wanted to come out to see me and bring me a liddle dhrhink.  I told him I didn’t drink.  I got him into his car hoping he would drive over a cliff on his way home.  I told him I accepted his apology for frightened us, but to not ever, EVER come to my house again, or I would call the police.  He never did.  Later I discovered that there was no police protection of any kind at night where we lived.