Marti Doesn't Say Much - Summer Grasses, Stories from the Seasons of Life by Charlie Close

I have spent more time with Marti than any other member of Kathy's family. She sleeps a couple nights a week at our home and calls Kathy nearly every day. Of all the things Kathy missed about living away from home, the thing she missed most was spending time with Marti.

So why haven't I had more to say about her? Because she is quiet. You have to listen for a long time to hear her. There is no one big story I could tell that puts her across, so I will try instead with a few little stories.

Red Vines

Last weekend, when Marti spent the night, she brought a bag of Red Vines.

"You want some?" she asked me.

"Sure. I love Red Vines."

"Yeah," she said like it was obvious. "I know."

"Oh yeah?" I said, feeling myself puff up. "How do you know that?"

"Who got you that bucket last Christmas?"

"Oh...right." I remembered the bucket of licorice but had forgotten where it came from.

In fact, some of you who are reading this probably know about that licorice too. These are the same Red Vines that I donated to our mutual work colleague Tabitha to keep in her office for visitors. They were gone in less than a week. That week was the last one before we shipped a new version of the software, so tensions, and the urge to gnaw, ran high. Some of you took it out on Marti's Red Vines. Small world, isn't it?

But the interesting question isn't how she knew in July that I like red licorice. The interesting question is how she knew it last Christmas. I didn't tell her, and neither did Kathy. My guess is that she noticed me buy Red Vines at a movie theater years ago and carried that little detail in her head for months until she found a time to act on it.

How did she know? Because she knew. No more questions, please.

Heart

Marti might just be the biggest fan of the band Heart that there has ever been. She has been going to their concerts for sixteen years and has followed them through feast and famine, lineup changes, style changes, and changes in direction - from Heart to the Lovemongers and back to Heart - and style changes.

Kathy and I drank coffee at Marti's house last spring, and she said, "Heart is coming to Clio in July. You want to go?"

Clio is a town thirty miles north of Flint, and the home of an outdoor amphitheater. Kathy said, "Sure."

I said, "Yeah, let's go." I'm a Heart fan too.

And so we went. It just so happened that on this day in July the sky was overcast for miles in all directions and the weather reports showed the heaviest rain over Clio.

It was raining in buckets when we arrived. The usher who led us to our seats wiped them off with a towel. We sat down half an hour before show time and rain was pouring on us.

"Hey, Kat," I said. You want one of those plastic ponchos they were selling?"

"Yeah. You want one, Mart?"

"No thanks."

I got up and brought back two ponchos still folded in the pouch. Kathy and I opened them and they smelled of chemicals, like a new beach ball before you blow it up.

Marti shunned a poncho, even when the rain dripped off her glasses and the roadies risked their lives to plug in the amplifiers. I think she didn't want anything coming between herself and the experience.

Heart came on and played a great show as always. Marti may have looked washed out but I don't think she felt that way.

We all stood up cheering after the first encore. Marti leaned over to whisper to Kathy, and then Kathy leaned over to whisper to me. "Marti says they're playing Battle of Evermore and Dreamboat Annie, and that's it."

I said, "How does she know that?"

Kathy shrugged. "She just does."

And she did. Ann and Nancy Wilson walked back onto the stage without the band. Nancy brought out her mandolin to play Battle of Evermore and Ann brought out her flute to play Dreamboat Annie. Then they said good night for the last time and the show was over. Marti had been right and there was no question.

What Marti had shown was fandom polished so smooth that it looked effortless. Beneath Marti's remark to Kathy was hours of studying Ann and Nancy websites, reading chats, and plugging into the fan network. At that level of commitment one does not have the knowledge: one is the knowledge.

Hair coloring

Marti, Kathy, and I went out shopping last Saturday, here, there, and everywhere. Then Kathy leaned over to me and said we needed to go to Target.

No big surprise. We go to Target all the time. "What for?" I asked.

"Marti needs some blonde hair color."

"What?" Marti's hair is black and I have never seen her color it.

"It's not for her."

"Who is it for, then?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I mean, I don't know the person," said Kathy. "She's a customer at the Target in Bay City."

Marti works at the Target in Bay City.

"Marti works in the pharmacy," I said. "Why would she know anything about hair color?"

Kathy shrugged. "I don't know. But they don't have the right kind in Bay City or the Target on Center Road, so we have to go to the one on Miller Road."

"Does Marti know this customer?"

"Mart?..." Kathy asked.

Marti shook her head no.

"Then what are you doing it for?"

Marti shrugged. "I don't know."

I didn't get it. "So you buy it here. Then what?"

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Then Marti takes it to the returns counter in Bay City and they restock it there. Easy squeezy."

"Oh," I said. "And how did Marti get that assignment?"

Kathy's look turned quizzical. "Who else is going to do it?"

"Did anyone ask her to do it?"

"Mart?..."

Marti shook her head no.