pony soldier motel

The Pony Soldier Motel on Route 66 was just around the bend to East
Flag. There are alota rooms in that place. There was a woman, a
cleaning woman who would work her way around those rooms cleaning up
after sometimes messy people, picking up beer cans, stale pizza, some
things left behind and some rooms needing more time than others.

She wasn't too tall, she was a Native, an Indian and used to work to
make the showers and tubs shine. Go get me the vacuum, Sonny, she would
say and he would go and get it. Plug it in Sonny and he would do it
while she stripped the sheets. An old guy, the manager used
to come and check on her work. Make sure you clean it all up, he would
say. She would nod her head and go about her cleaning.


She wore white shoes the kind nurses wore, and a plain dress. Her hair
was tied in a bun, and she would go from room to room. Tile and toilet
bowls got the brush, and cleaned the hair from the tub. Her own hair
used to start sticking out here and there.


The carpet was green, and there was a tv in each room, old Zeniths they
were. When she got done she would go wait by the manager's office and
he would check the rooms and then come back and pay $.50 a room.


The walk home to old town in Flag, Arizona, to what was called Indian
village on the west side took some time, there was no car. Usually a
stop by the post office, and then down Frisco street. Some would be
standing outside Club 66, asking for ten cents. She would walk on the
edge of the sidewalk and go past. Honkytonk music would be playing
when the door opened, it was dark inside. She just kept going walking
on by. There was Food Town and soup bones to buy, and some flour. Take
this Sonny, she would say and they would walk down the street a ways
until the paper bags got heavy and she took a break, sitting on a rock
wall. She looked tired, worn from kneeling on the floor, but she talked
about how it was important to go to school.


The houses were nice that they walked by, the bags were shifted to the
other arm to ease the load. Stand close by she told him when they
crossed route 66 going by the Lumberjack Cafe. The traffic would be
going by and she would say you have to look both ways, Sonny and then
they would run across the road. Sometimes they stopped by the Little
Brown Jug and she bought a candy bar and in those days the pine trees
were still there behind the store and they would cut through them to
Tombstone street.


Indian Village it was called, an old time motor lodge of single rooms
surrounding a court yard. The plaster was falling off, and there was no
yard, just dirt. The screen door had no handle, but she went in she put
the bags down and put on the heavy metal frying pan, took the potatoes
and sat down and started to peel them. Whatcha you looking at she would
say to him. Oh, nothing Shima. Her hands were soft, and hard at the
same time working that peeler around the potatoes gouging out the eyes
and after they were peeled she sliced them up one, two three and they
were done. Rex pure lard the kind that came in a
red box went into the frying pan and it sizzled.


Sitting down again she mixed the flour, baking powder and water, mixing
and kneading that dough. It looked easy they way she did it. Sometimes
a piece of dough ended up in his mouth and a little
while later, the potatoes were done. The frying pan would sizzle with
frybread grease and the smoke would go up and she would stand there
until they were all made.


Aren't you tired, Shima, her eyes looked that way. She would say, we
have to eat so somebody has to cook. The kitchen was just big enough
for the little boy and her to stand in and it was just a cleaning woman
and her boy, working day to day to go home and cook for him.


One time, when the boy sold newspapers for a dime each, and he got a
nickel for each one he made enough that he wanted to surprise her as
she was coming home. He met her they went to Food Town, and next door
he took her to Chicken Delight and he bought a boxed chicken meal. It
was plain white box with wax paper and half a chicken. He told her to
sit down on the curb outside the place and watch the cars go by on
Leroux street, and she did. He gave her a piece of chicken and
they ate like they were rich he said. She just laughed and they shared
the fries them two just sitting there enjoying that chicken. People
looked at them as they drove by. It was just a woman and her son.


Time goes by and things change, children get older and move away. But
sometimes when it is quiet and like today sitting here some things come
to mind and the woman can no longer move like she used to and clean,
she is now bent with age and still talks about the importance of going
to school, taking care of family and having to do what you have to make
ends meet. She worked hard for her husband and kids, I guess all
mothers go about it in different ways. This one cleaned
rooms, maybe that is why when I go somewhere I make sure I leave a tip
for the cleaning lady. When they walk away I can still see her just
like it was back then, and think maybe she has kids, maybe a son she
calls Sonny waiting for her to get home. In any case that is why I try
to leave a little something extra when I stay somewhere for the
cleaning woman so she has something just in case she wants a candy bar
or maybe a boxed chicken to take home every once in a while...


rustywire