It's the Berries Gabbing about our lives. BY SCOTT THIEMANN My name is Scott Thiemann, and I live outside a small community on the Oregon Coast. We intentionally moved here about eight years ago in order to escape the urban madness. We have established our home with the intent to be here for the rest of our lives. For work, I do landscape gardening, helping people clean up and organize their yards. Several years ago, Bob called me to help him with some weeding, rototilling, and general clean-up work at his place. He was a friendly, gregarious guy who coached me as I weeded my way through rows of blueberries, strawberries and other plants. Because of having his knees operated on, he couldn't get in the crouched position anymore required to pull weeds from the constricted areas of his garden. While working with clients, I'll commonly share niceties and gab about generalities; gradually we'll end up talking more personally about our lives. Besides learning the details of Bob's knee surgery, I was also educated about being a Shriner. Invariably, Bob wanted to know more about me. He began his inquiry by offering my wife and me a container of last year's bounty from his sizeable blueberry bushes. When I indicated that I wasn't married, with a coy smile he pressed on, "Well, I bet your girlfriend will appreciate these." I was faced with a typical dilemma. Not being skilled at breaking such news, I think the last thing Bob expected to hear were my next words: "She's a he." If you haven't figured out by now, "we" in the first paragraph was referring to my partner, a man. Anyhow, Bob disappeared. I continued weeding. There was no sign of the man who had blithely informed me that his name was spelled the same forward and backward. Forty-five minutes later, after I knocked on the door, I collected my check and was sheepishly presented with an old Cool-Whip container of blueberries. Somewhat surprised to still be getting the blueberries, I assured Bob they would be much appreciated. Had Bob known that my partner didn't care for blueberries, I wonder if he'd been as generous with his fruity tip. Perhaps he found out, because I've never seen Bob again. It's a shame — he seemed like a really nice guy. Scott Thiemann's column has been running for several months in the Port Orford News, but was recently canceled, reportedly due to advertiser pressure. His columns and commentaries have also run in the Brownsville Times and the Brookings Pilot.
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