Rent is paid, but the laundry ain’t done and there’s no one here but us chickens to do it. I really like riding my bicycle, and i shouldn’t say that too loud or g_d’s gonna hear me and take it away, just like she did my last three wives. Just as well, we weren’t as happy as we could’ve been and ya’ can’t fault someone for seeking greener pastures. What i’ve learned about myself is i’m a sucker for a damsel in distress, but not real good at picking the nurturing ones. Or i’m just figuring out that if a broad is running down the street with the cops chasing her - i should wait until i hear both sides. My folks were a pretty good fit by my reckoning; he was a Scorpio, she is Cancer; there was only 4 years difference in age, so they were of a cohort; pop was movie star handsome and ma was beauty queen ravishing, her biggest flaw would have to be an unexplainable lack of confidence that could only really be seen by her ceaseless demeaning commentary on everything around her - she elevates herself, by diminishing others. Pop was more put together than that; not that he didn’t have a few screws loose himself, but by and large he was generous of spirit and kind to strangers.
Our home was a cross between Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and Mel Brooks’s “Young Frankenstein,” for example - they took pains to landscape the new home Pop bought on the GI bill, and Ma was very “artistic”, even selling many driftwood collages to friends and neighbors. So the house was an olive green to match the olive trees, set off nicely with shades of green accents - The front door was a fire engine Orange · if that’s a color. Ma was a consummate cook, and our food was nutritious and wholesome, she did not favor the packaged meals that were just coming online at the time. Meal times were mannered as much as that is possible with 3 sons and a daughter, just under the oldest son. My parents worked hard, my father taking 2, sometimes 3 jobs to support feet that would outgrow shoes before the shoes wore out - me, i did my best to help by not wearing shoes from the last day of school to the first if i could get away with it. Sports were an integral part of family life as were regular excursions to the beach just down the road.
Vacations were the highlight with each of the kids getting to spend a week or two at the Aunt Jane, and Uncle Dwayne’s house - and some time during the summer an extended drive to some remote campground, or rendezvous with the Daffins - old family friends · always a good time, because Nell played the guitar and knew Woody Guthrie, and Ed stood 6 foot 14 inches tall and knew how to gut a fish, which came in real handy if you were fishing on the Yuba River. But shit was shifting in Happy Town, the American War in Vietnam was claiming more lives and more money, racism and the gaping wound left at the end of the Civil War was tearing at the fabric of exceptionalism, the abortion of manifest destiny, and on top of everything something called “anonymous incineration” was being prepared for with periodic bells during school hours whereupon we would all drop what we were doing and climb under our desks to kiss our asses good-by. Eventually this took its toll and drove an irrevocable wedge into the brave marriage of Ma & Pa. Vacations were no longer rejuvenating, and we 6 travelers who had driven as far as Acapulco Mexico couldn’t even get down the mountain from the Sequoias without a knock down drag out “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”
This particular eruption began as we were exciting the campground on our way back to civilization. The station wagon was packed and my younger brother and myself managed to wrangle a ride on the tailgate - which was not standard operating procedure · but not so unusual that it distracted from the conflagration being fanned by both sides of the divide. I only just now realize how painful it must have been for the older siblings in their normally choice seats just behind the driver, but for my brother and i it was the “E” ticket from Disneyland on steroids. At first we dangled our feet with impunity, waiting for the inevitable “Get back in your seat” that never came, so like any enterprising lads on the ride of a lifetime, we giggled at each other and continued to bounce our feet off the curving pavement rolling out behind us like the ultimate magic carpet ride. And to be fair to our parents and our upbringing, when the road straightened and the car accelerated past 60 mph. eventually transitioning onto the 99 South, we took advantage of common sense and seated ourselves safely in the rear facing seat, probably making funny faces at the cars behind us trying to point out our predicament to our otherwise exemplary parents.
Well, things cooled off in the cockpit, and the gas tank required attention; Pop raised the tailgate and may have even commended we two brothers for our good sense in taking our seat and fastening our seat belts. It was a pit stop, and Pop and i ended up in the latrine standing side by side, taking care of business - when pop looked over at me, in a kindly way · without a trace of the anger he and ma had been exchanging down the mountain for more than an hour, and said to me “your mother and I are not going to make it.” What was i gonna say, “pop, you know i’m 11 right?” Years later, many quarrels more under the bridge, between: he & ma; he & i; ma & i; i and everybody i ever met . .. i realized with certainty that he had paid me the highest compliment i may ever receive. He as a man - a wounded man reached out to someone he trusted and confided pain; he shared this with confidence knowing me as his son and as a human being with his own history. I am not betraying him by sharing this story with you, for i’ve shared it before and have yet to be struck down by lightning. It was a lesson to me on the importance of simple clear communication during a time of difficulty and pain - i was not burdened or marred for life, rather his gesture helped me to be more whole and become a person who can share suffering with those he loves and those he tries to lo ve.
jts 25/05/2020
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