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©Poems of R.F.Mueller- Other Times, Other Thoughts
A TRUE DOCTOR
Each summer before I was ten you came to the village near our farm, "Doc Johnson" to us all in that providential patchwork of fields and woods, that emolument of bouldery hills cut by far-winding marshland where muskrat still built their domes in the sawsedge against the certainty of cold, where spring came in a reckless rush of time, of tumbling hawks and winnowing snipe above the mystic spunk of slime that pushed up the green swords from deep below. Each year you came to quicken summer's flow, to sharpen our dull lives and to gather the swamp-bred plants that gave a timeless sanction to your show. Yet you'd never have allowed yourself a folk art role or kinship with the shamans that once rattled shells among those very hills and summoned the same wild spirits to their aid. 2. Each summer we were sure to see you park your small caravan of blocky trucks, siding jerked down for folding stage, shelved elixirs row on row against the shady tavern wall, waiting for the expectant crowd. And there on balmy evenings beneath the stars and blazing bulbs you cajoled our upturned rube faces with the merits of your wares, that would cure one and all of dire regional maladies, female complaints and the authentic goiters and great shiny tumors borne as badges of self reliance as well as scorn for professional medicos. 3. It was a wonder how you'd appear in fantasies of cravat, checkered suit and derby to bully your straightman to pratfalls with your bazoo voice. And for the older lads there was a brash young thing in pink tights so different from the thick-ankled German peasant types they knew - who would cavort with tambourines and do splits to the last angle and later smile her way down the aisle hawking cheap candy and free closeups of what they'd only guessed at. Then you'd hit us with your sell again and the awesome brown bottles with white labels would be waved aloft to more tales of epic cures and find their way at last to needful outstretched hands. O what perfect results and testimonials for those top placebos with just enough bitters to justify the alcoholic reward! And how congruent to your own taste in those stark nights among strangers when the brandy ran out! Yet you brought a world of eased symptoms in many a farm house where other help would never come. 4. One year I remember you outdid yourself and sent a fear out into the land that every mother's child might be so worm-infested as to urgently need your bottled cure and pushed this theory with house calls, and how these were followed by the awful dose and days of searching in my case alas in vain! But I remember too of that worm visit your going into our marsh for boneset , by you pronounced the queen of curative herbs and chief component of your medicine, a plant that I know now worked its effect less by some potent natural drug than by the swamp spirit itself with help from you. And I remember well that day , your Hippocratic zeal thrusting through the alcoholic floridity and gravel voice, striding with polished shoes into the wet hummocks of aromatic white blooms, your pride of life, to us a true doctor, forever more than just a showman. annotation
As a boy the saloon / tavern site of these "medicine shows" was a place to hang out. It was where we sold the turtles we caught for "bouya" or a meat soup that was frequently served free to encourage the sale of drinks, principally beer.
This was part of the unity of our lives, one with the march of the seasons in the wildlands. And I still clearly remember standing in my back yard incredulously watching the "tumbling hawks" perform. These were Northern Harriers ( Circus cyaneus ), that we called Marsh Hawks, and they did actual somersaults, screaming all the while. The "winnowing snipe" attracted me in the clear, cold early spring evenings just after sundown, by the high pitched sound of their tail feathers as they dove in their mating flight. We had to look closely to see the diving bird. These were Wilson's Snipe ( Gallinago delicata ).
The medicinal plant Boneset ( Eupatorium perfoliatum ) referred to is very common in a variety of open wetlands, but particularly in the rich calcareous variety, such as characterized both my Wisconsin and Virginia homes.
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