The Hundredth Meridianrnhy Chilton Williamson, ]r.rnSunday SummerrnIn June, the sun gets up about the timernthe pollen release ends. Keeping thernbedroom window down in the earlvrnmorning hours is a simple preventive forrnhay fever that requires only getting uprnaround 2:00 A.M. to drop the window. It’srneasier to take a pill the night before andrnforget about it. And another at 6:50 whenrnthe alarm clock goes off, an hour and arnhalf before Sunday Mass.rnWakening with hay fever is like swimmingrnup from the bottom of the sea withrnleg irons attached to your ankles andrnwrists—and then the sinuses begin flowing.rnClutching a handkerchief, I went tornthe kitchen for a cup of black coffee (lactoserngums the vocal cords) and a coughrndrop. I showered, dressed in coat and tie,rnlooked over mv music and the day’s readings,rnand began a warm-up —not muchrnof one, because the vibrations make thernsinus flow worse.rnAt 7:30 on a Sunday morning in June,rnthe wide streets of the town were desertedrnbeneath the old cottonwoods in theirrnfresh, new leaves, overhanging the whiternpicket fences. Beyond the shade the treesrnmade, the morning was textured like arncanvas, and watersprinklers caught thernsunlight and flung it out in long, winduprnpitches, throwing wheels of watersprayrnacross the small green lawns bordered byrnpurple lilacs growing close against therngabled frame-and-stone houses. The skyrnwas cleanly blue and the asphalt surfacingrnsmelled fresh and clean as the newlyrnwatered earth. I parked outside St. LaurencernO’Toole and went inside thernchurch, carrving the music bag. A fewrnpeople, most of them elderly, were in thernpews already, on their knees on thernkneelers or staring forward from thernbenches to the candles burning up front.rnI vent on up to the choir loft and took mvrnthings from the bag—music, missal, waterrnbottle, cough drops, eyeglasses—andrnlaid them out across two adjustable musicrnstands. Below, the church was fillingrnup, and I smelled the scent of candlesrnand the familiar church smell. JeanrnKarch went forward to post the hymnrnnumbers before joining me upstairs inrnthe loft.rn”How’s oiir tliroat this morning?” shernasked, as she unlocked the organ andrnrolled the top back.rn”It could be worse, given the pollenrncount. I should be able to get through allrnright, if I just take it carefulK.”rnCatholics don’t sing, which is eitherrngood for the cantor or not so good, depending.rnToday was easy work, taken uprna half-step to accommodate mv hay feverrnas well as mv tessitura. Everythingrnmoved along fine, and then it was Communion.rnThe Communion hymn wasrn”Panis Ange//c!is”—Lambillote’s setting,rnnot Cesar Franck’s. Thev like to remindrnyou you’re singing for Him, but why Hernminds a scraped note or a cracked onernless than the aerage pewsittcr, nobodrneer says.rnAn easy attack, of course, then stay forward,rnletting the chin drop as far as thernsternum, to keep the air force off therngummy cords. “Panis augelicus, fit panisrnhominum . . . ” Piano, piano; you can’trnbelt ”Panis Angelicus,” anyway. St. Laurencernhas superb acoustics; the unwrappingrnof a lozenge in the loft mvist be audiblernto those seated directly below,rnwhile a well-produced voice singing pianissimornfills the church with softly resonantrnsound. “O res mirahilis manducatrndominum . . . ” Only a litfie more gas,rnand the cords will sputter into a tickle,rnthe tickle will break to the inevitablerncough . . . disaster, whether God is listeningrnor not. “Pauper, sen-us, et humilis.”rnTicklish work, but I get through it allrnright. God has not been offended, I amrnnot humiliated, and the communicantsrnhave enjoyed a peaceful Communion,rntheir prayer undisturbed by glottalrnsquawks from ftie tenor in the choir loft.rnI went home after Mass and changedrnout of Sundav clothes into jeans and arnsna])button denim shirt. As the wind gotrnup, my hayfever worsened along with it,rnbut since nothing I had planned for thernrest of the day depended on my vocalrncondition, I wasn’t paying attention anyrnlonger.rnHorses resemble their successor, thernautomobile, in always having somethingrnwrong with them. Lacking a carburetorrnor computer inside, they are easier tornwork on; on the other hand, you don’trnhave to catch a car before you can start inrnon the repair job. I am not really a horsernlover, having a skeptical and fundamentallyrnutilitarian view of the animal which,rnso far as I have ever been able to tell, isrnhow he sees me as well. Years ago, afterrnmy gelding cut his leg on barbwire, thernvet recommended a shot of penicillinrndaily over a period often days. The treatmentrnprogressed smoothly for the first six;rnon the sevenfti day, the horse was reluctantrnto come in to me, and on the eighthrnhe reared when I approached him withrnthe syringe and nearly pulled the trailerrnwhere I had him snubbed over on top ofrnboth of us. Since then, the refusal to berncaught has gone from understandable reluctancernto an infuriating game at whichrnthe man always wins —eventually—andrnthe horse takes his revenge for havingrnlost.rnThe best thing is to imagine the animalrnas yourself and yourself as God Whornknows v-hat is good for you, better thanrnyou do yourself, hi this case. Star had developedrna slightly swollen knee that thernvet said could be an injury (mares, likernwomen, will bite and kick) or an arthriticrninflammation. Whatever the problem,rnmy job was to apply Dr. Hopper’s specialrnsalve to the affected area, wrap the kneernin plastic to heat it, secure the plastic withrnstretch bandage and the bandage withrnduct tape, above and below, and administerrntwo grams of Bute, orally. Only, Irnhad to catch flie sonofabitch first.rnThe whole business took 25 minutes:rn21 to get a halter on flie knothead, four torndo the doctoring. When I was throughrnwith it, I went around closing gates tornmake a smaller enclosure, carried over arnthird of a bale of hay, and filled the waterrnbucket from the pump. It’s a lot easier torncatch a horse off 1,500 square feet ofrnground than it is off a couple of acres. Irnleft him hanging his head over the gate,rnloaded the mare into the trailer, andrnSEPTEMBER 2001/49rnrnrn