Colon-NO-oscopy

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The receptionist looks like she’s ready to tell my friend—let’s call her Kate—some terrible, awful, apocalyptic news like her colonoscopy appointment has been canceled because the raging wildfires in Sonoma and Mendocino counties prevented the doctor, who lives in San Francisco, from driving to Fort Bragg.

Kate blurts out the “F” word—not because she’s upset with the bearer of the worst news she’s received in a long time, nor because the doctor wasn’t willing to risk his life to save her the horror of repeating the colon prep, but because yesterday she’d thought once or twice about contacting the hospital to verify her appointment. Her nutritionally deprived brain prevented her from following through.

She wants to collapse to her knees and scream, “Noooooooooooooo!” She wants to pound her forehead into the carpet until security arrives to escort her to the preemie ward where grandma types comfort fussy babies along with people whose colonoscopy appointments are cancelled at the last minute. A grandma will gather her into soft arms, rock her gently back and forth, pat her back and whisper, “Shhhhhh…at least you have good health insurance.”

The receptionist explains that because the local phone service is down, the hospital is unable to contact patients.

***

A few months previously, Kate showed true Big Girl Grit when she scheduled that appointment. Given she’d experienced two colonoscopies and knew the torture she’d be subjected to, this was a very brave thing indeed.

colon1If you’ve never had a colonoscopy, you may not understand why the term torture is associated with it. This applies to the day before. The patient is allowed to ingest only clear liquids, which by mid-morning sets off a primal alarm in the brain—the process of starving to death has begun. By mid-afternoon the brain partially shuts down and the patient wanders zombie-like through the rest of the day. She occasionally snaps into reality and tries to keep the whining under control by reviewing all the things she should be (but truly isn’t at that moment) grateful for: family, friends, shelter, blah-blah-blah, and good health insurance.

As the sun begins its descent into the Pacific Ocean, the day is finished off with a cocktail of Drano and Liquid Plummer disguised under the label “Suprep.” Kate refuses to detail what this does to the human body, and will only say that body must remain within sprinting distance of a toilet.

colon2 (2)After a fitful sleep, the following morning begins at four o’clock with another round of the cocktail. Kate wants to cry, but remembers there are a bunch of people in the world suffering a great deal more than her. She tries once again to concoct a gratitude list, but cannot think of a single thing.

At seven o’clock, debilitated and literally empty, she says to her husband—let’s call him Gary—and her dog—let’s call her Lucy—that the only thing keeping her going is the promise of drugs administered at the hospital. Not much of a drug user, Kate was pleasantly surprised by the gentle euphoria they provided on her two previous colonoscopy occasions. They nearly made the hours leading up to the procedure worth it.

Kate’s friend—let’s call her Marcia—picks her up at seven forty-five and listens to Kate pretend to put her misery into perspective in light of the devastating inland fires. Marcia escorts her into the hospital to get an estimated time of when to return.

***

Kate apologizes for saying the “F” word. The receptionist kindly says if she were in the same situation that is exactly the word she would choose.

As Marcia drives her to Homestyle Café for the best breakfast ever—two eggs, smashed fried potatoes and biscuits—Kate suspects the cancelation of her procedure is some kind of karmic due or payback for her sins. She’s not religious, but was raised by a former Catholic (once a Catholic, always a Catholic). Whenever something goes awry, she can never fully shake feelings of God’s retribution for her bad behavior.

Let’s see—what could it be this time? Her bossiness when working with a group? Her whininess when things don’t go her way? Her petty judgement of others? That the previous day she was dull to the pain of those who lost so much in the fires? Well now she’s simpatico with that pain. There you go karma or God. Point taken; you win.

Kate leaves breakfast expressing gratitude for solid food, family, friends, her dog, and good health insurance. The words ring hollow with the dread of having to go through the entire colon prep experience again—hopefully before the end of the year so she doesn’t have to pay a new deductible.

Marcia drops her off with a note of positivity: “Schedule it in December. You can give yourself a clean colon for Christmas!”

Megan Caron

meganheadshotIf you’re walking east along the 200 block of Redwood Avenue, you’ll notice a difference in the Larry Spring Museum. The storefront, once a bizarre display of things like rocks that resemble food—ham, peas, and yes, even cauliflower—has become more polished, evolving to reflect the unique man who created it.

meganstorePart of this renaissance is due to the opening of the vintage shop Lost Coast Found, housed in the same location and owned by Megan Caron—a homegrown girl who returned after living in Petaluma for 16 years. “When Larry died [in 2009], he left the building to Heather Brown, a well-known Canadian artist,” said Megan. “In exchange for reasonable rent, I help out with the museum.

“I’ve always loved rocks and all things wood and was in awe of this secret little museum full of rocks, wood, creativity and character. I was excited not only about finding a storefront, but also the prospect of helping the world meet Larry Spring. He was a proponent of solar energy back when the technology barely existed. My husband’s career has been in the solar industry.”

megan6When Megan speaks of something she’s passionate about—her store, the museum, kids spending too much time on screens, or the lack of housing on the coast—her hazel eyes blaze. She’s articulate and quick to laugh, flashing a sly look whenever she makes fun of something or herself. As I listen, I understand why Fort Bragg once had a hard time holding onto her intense energy.

On her father’s side, Megan hails from the Caron family. “My grandmother grew up in Finland and immigrated to Canada. Winnipeg was too cold for her. Like many Finns at the time, she ended up in Fort Bragg. In the late fifties, she started the first licensed beauty salon on the coast—Kirsty’s Kut and Kurl. She hoped I’d take over the business. I worked as a receptionist for a while, but I’m not good at making people look beautiful.” She laughed.

By 1993, Megan felt stifled by Fort Bragg and was eager to leave. “Imagine feeling stifled by beautiful redwood forests and the ocean.” She laughs. “I moved to Eureka and enrolled in classes at College of the Redwoods, but didn’t always attend. While working as a route driver for Figureidos, I spent most days driving around and admiring the old architecture.”

She returned briefly to Fort Bragg in 1994. “I worked as a front desk person at Vista Manor. I’d been cleaning rooms there during the summers since I was 14 years old. I had some friends who were moving to Chico and needed a roommate, so I moved and enrolled in Butte Community College. I took classes in interior design because it meant I could tour other people’s homes. I’ve always been interested in how people create their space. I spent a good portion of my childhood rearranging my room. My walls were giant collages of pictures and posters.”

In Chico, she worked as a caregiver. “One of my favorite clients was an elderly Texas Belle. Her bedroom was like a Hollywood set. Everything was red and gold—red velvet walls, gold furniture, gold bedspread, everything. She wanted to get rid of some ‘evidence’ before she died—massive amounts of lingerie she’d acquired over the years. She gave me garbage bags full to take to a thrift store.”

Megan was a kid, intimidated by the contents of the bags and the thought of delivering them. “I drove around for weeks with elderly contraband in the trunk of my car, hoping no one would find it.”

When she finally mustered the courage to enter a store with the donations, she spotted a jacket. “I thought it looked cool and bought it. That started my interest in vintage and collecting. From then on, I stopped going to new clothing stores. I don’t want to support industries that make inferior products overseas. Except for technology and a few other things, I rarely buy anything new.”

By 1997, Megan decided college wasn’t for her, moved back to the coast and the hospitality industry. Through friends, she met Ben Tuke who would eventually become her husband. “He grew up in Mendocino. Like me, he couldn’t wait to ‘get out of Dodge.’”

In 2000, tired of small town living and looking for adventure, 24-year old Megan and Ben tossed everything they owned into the back of Ben’s pickup and headed south. “As we approached Petaluma, Ben asked if I’d ever been there. I only knew it had an outlet mall. My requirement for where we lived was that the downtown have a bakery, record store, and bookstore. Petaluma had it all, including great architecture. We signed a lease on an apartment that day.”

Ben went to work for Sun Power Geothermal, a startup solar company. “We knew solar was the wave of the future. He started as an installer and worked his way up to quality manager.”

Megan got a job in the magazine department of Copperfield’s Books. “Growing up, my grandmother Julia Tidwell and my parents supplied me with books. My dad is a book collector and indulged me at bookstores. When I saw the help wanted ad for Copperfield’s, I ran down there with my non-impressive resume and got the job.” She later found out she was hired because they were impressed by her answer to the question of who are her favorite authors—Richard Brautigan and Tom Robbins.

meganfamilyOver the next 16 years, Megan and Ben settled into life in Petaluma. They bought a house and had two sons—Addison (9) and Arias (5). “As the boys grew older, I became uneasy about raising them in a suburban environment where there’s a disconnect with nature. I drove 15 minutes just to go to the park. I regularly took them to Fort Bragg where they could play in the forest and we could be at the beach within five minutes. They seemed happiest in the wild.

“In Petaluma, everything is neat and tidy. The downtown slowly became gentrified, pushing out the interesting eccentric folk and funky taquerias. It was harder for me to engage with people. How many nail salons and upscale restaurants can you have in one place? I yearned for the funky places where there are things that need to get done. In Fort Bragg, we have blemishes and unconventional people. I wanted to raise our boys here amongst the salt.”

Megan’s years of working in a bookstore gave her a good understanding of the many facets of retail—ordering merchandise, arranging floor space and in-store displays. “All six window displays had to be changed regularly. I was always thinking of themes and digging through basements, dumpsters and estate sales for props.” Copperfield’s customers often asked to buy items in the windows.

“For two years, Ben and I talked about moving back to Fort Bragg. I thought the town needed a vintage shop that sold useful as well as decorative items. After years of my picking and hunting, our garage was full and retail space became a must.”

megan5During that time, Megan looked for a storefront in Fort Bragg. In November 2016, she was walking by the Larry Spring Museum and saw a slip of paper with Heather Brown’s phone number written on it. “I called and within twenty minutes, I had the keys.”

Ben went to work for Nextracker, a solar tracking manufacturer, which enables him to work remotely. They sold their house in the spring of this year and bought a house in Fort Bragg. In June, Megan opened her store.

“I’ve met countless young people, some with young families and existing businesses who want to live here and invest in our community, but they can’t find a place to live. We need people to move here. There’s so much to be done and I feel we’re running out of people to do it. Without a push for housing projects, we will never have a sustainable economy.”

I’m grateful to Megan for returning with her family. She will use the energy that once drove her away to improve our community while preserving its charm.

***

Here’s a little preview of the Larry Spring Museum. Give it a visit. You’ll be glad you did.

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