Good four o’clock in the morning, friends! About fifteen minutes ago, I was awakened by the distinctive sound of my glasses sliding off the bed and hitting the carpet. After searching blindly under and around the bed, I decided to put on my contact lenses, only to discover they were packed. At least I knew approximately where I had packed them. Anyway, having found them and then finding my glasses, I found something else: I am thoroughly awake. So I will write. But please don’t expect me to be serious after crawling around under the bed at this hour!
I Married the Professor
By Sheri Schofield
Did you ever watch the popular television comedy “Gilligan’s Island?” Among the five shipwrecked castaways living on a tropical island, there was a professor. He looked at life from a scholarly, scientific point of view.
Well, I married his clone. Tim isn’t a professor. He’s a physician. But he was raised in a family dedicated to science. His parents, Bob and Dollie, worked for Moody Institute of Science, which morphed into Discovery Media and eventually a team from Discovery founded Illustra Media. Their purpose was to produce films about nature which illustrated how our universe was designed by God, for his glory and our enjoyment.
Tim grew up watching these films, as did his siblings, Sam and Cyndie. Tim’s approach to life, therefore, has been greatly impacted by science.
I knew this early on. He had two turtles, an aquarium filled with fish, and a dove named Snowball which rode around on his head frequently.
But Tim was cute and smart, and we became good friends, then sweethearts, and then we were married, all within a year.
I had no idea how Tim’s scientific bent would affect our lives until one day I spotted a spider in our house. I hate spiders.
“Tim! There’s a spider!” I exclaimed.
“Spiders are our friends,” he said calmly.
“Not mine. Squish it!”
I felt that was a very reasonable request. But Tim calmly reached for a piece of paper, slid it under the spider, and carried it outside, much to my amazement. “Spiders are our friends,” he repeated. “If you see another one, just let it outside.”
While Tim was home, I let him do that. But I bought a spray of insecticide and hid it under the sink for those times he wasn’t around to let the spiders out. I have never felt the least bit friendly toward spiders or other little insects.
Then we had children. Of course, Tim taught them to love nature, too. By then, I was somewhat used to nature invading my house, but never resigned to it. We’ve had some of the most peculiar pets!
When the children were young, we lived next to a wetland. In the winter, the water rose to the edge of our back yard. Ducks and slugs and water snakes, plus countless bugs, thrived in the wetland.
One day our ten-year-old son, came to the back door holding up a bucket of four water snakes, his sister tagging along behind him. Tim had just helped him build a terrarium, and Drew wanted to keep the snakes there. In his bedroom. In my house.
“No.”
“But Mom! They won’t get out.”
“Yes, they will. We’re trying to sell this house so we can go to Panama, and I can’t have snakes crawling around in it.”
“I’ll make sure they can’t get out,” Tim said, admiring the snakes.
“This is not a good idea,” I said with a shudder.
A few days later, a stout, middle-aged lady came to look at our house. I showed her the kitchen, dining room and living room, then turned to lead down the hallway to the bedrooms.
There, coming straight at us, was an escapee from Drew’s terrarium.
“What’s THAT?” she demanded.
“It’s just a …”
“SNAKE!” she screamed, jumping three feet into the air, gyrating mid-air, shaking the house when she landed, and tearing out the front door.
“But it’s a very nice house!” I called after her. It was useless. She was gone. I never saw her again. Apparently, she wasn’t married to a scientist.
I ran back inside to capture the snake, but it had disappeared. For several weeks, I carefully checked the floor beside the bed before getting out of it each morning, fearful of finding the snake with my feet.
Tim fixed the terrarium again, but I made Drew get rid of the snakes. We found the one that got away when we moved. It was dried up in a corner of Drew’s closet, along with a flat, dried-out frog, another escapee. Which explained the peculiar smell in Drew’s room.
Once we reached Panama, Tim brought home a five-foot rainbow boa for the terrarium. Drew loved feeding it small mice. Until the snake bit him.
I didn’t say a word. Tim found a new home for the snake.
We stayed in Panama for over a year, then returned to the States. Now, thirty years later, we are headed back to Panama for another year. I feel a little nervous about what Tim will bring home while we are there. As you will probably agree, I have plenty of reasons!