Friday, March 7, 2008

The Fruit of The Tree of Good and Evil


It’s my youngest daughter’s spring break and she wants to spend it on Dog Island playing her mandolin and taking walks and relaxing.
And being with her mama.
Which of course makes the mama happy although I’m having a little bit of anxiety about staying on the island for that long.
I should be looking forward to it, I know. It’ll be a beautiful time of enforced rest and relaxation but that sort of thing doesn’t come easy to me.
I come from two very diverse stocks. Speaking botanically, I would compare my two bloodlines to a mango being grafted to a Macintosh apple, perhaps.
My two grandfathers could hardly have been more different if one had been raised on Mars and one on Pluto.
My paternal granddaddy was by trade a lawyer, but at heart, was a musician. He lived the high life with lots of money in a big house and loved nothing more than to entertain, drink lots of whiskey and play music on his big old grand piano, singing the hits of the twenties, his eyes twinkling, his drink never far from his hand. By the time I knew him, he was divorced and remarried to his secretary- a scandal in those days.
My maternal grandfather, on the other hand, was raised on a farm, knew the value of a dollar, a good day’s work, and he had a beer once in Germany and didn’t like it and so didn’t ever have another. Even iced water was suspicious in his mind- water straight from the tap was good enough for a real man, although he did occasionally enjoy a small ginger ale at sunset.
I never heard that grandfather sing, although he did do a sort of pursed-lip, tuneless whistle while he labored in his yard, pitchforking the compost, or while up on a ladder, trimming palm fronds, or working in his woodshop, making plain and very solid furniture, built without gee-gaws or fancy trim, but guaranteed to last lifetimes.
The man did not fool around in any sense of the word, arose at the crack of dawn and stayed married to the same woman for about a million years.
I’m sure it seemed that long to her, anyway.
The two warring bloodlines that make up my DNA do not lead to inner peace and a sense of tranquility, let me just tell you and going to Dog Island certainly brings out this dichotomy within me.
When I’m on the island there’s the one granddaddy saying, “Hell, there’s nothing else to do, crack a beer and crank up the boom box,” while the other granddaddy is hissing, “The sun is up, you should be too. Eat a healthy breakfast, go take a walk and pick up trash while you’re at it. Then come back and write the great American novel.”
Well, actually that granddaddy would never tell me to write the Great American Novel. He’d have me tearing out the rotten kitchen floor and replacing it, then moving on to the steps that need repairing.
So I’ll be on the island until a week from this Sunday, trying to placate each inner grandfather and probably not doing a good job for either one. As hard as I try, I can’t let myself relax into the joy of the moment OR motivate to get anything of real purpose accomplished.
Which is a real shame because if I start to have a good time, I’ll feel guilty and if I do actually put my nose to the grindstone and work on my novel and take my walks and maybe try to do something about that fiberglass shower enclosure that’s black from mold and sulfur water, I’ll feel like I’m missing out on the good times to be had by simply enjoying the beauty and peace of the island.
Either way, I’m sure I’ll be happy to come home because the dogwoods will be in full bloom by then and God knows I’ll have a lot of blog reading to catch up on and a few blogs to write because my little external modem device doesn’t seem to work anymore, meaning I can’t get online, which will only add to my frustration.
But I’ll give it all my best shot and try to satisfy both of my old dead grandfathers who, despite their long being in their respective graves, just will not quit telling me what to do in no uncertain terms.
And I’ll try to remember that why I’m really there is to be with my daughter and that every moment with her is precious and irreplaceable and if I can’t get those two old men to shut up and leave me alone, I’ll try to remember that I also have grandmothers in me and I think they would understand, not be so bossy, and love me for being the best mother and woman I know how to be, and that I am certainly trying as hard as I can.

11 comments:

  1. I wish I knew more about greatgrandaddy Miller.

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  2. Oh, I hear ya on this week. I would be having the exact inner dialogues! I'll be if we traced our families, we're cousins. ;) Once when libbyllama was about 12 she was dying for a few days at the beach with Momma and I went but it wasn't where I mentally needed or wanted to be so on top of everything else, I felt guilty, like a BAD momma.
    Drugs. Drugs must be the answer.

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  3. DTG- me too.
    Ms. L- oh honey, we have so much to talk about.

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  4. Sounds like a great time, except for the whole "no modem" thing. I was hoping you were trying out for the new play this weekend. Have fun, and see ya soon!

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  6. OK, So I had a typo...As I was saying, Guys get me. They can maintain such a good simple view of things. And Jon's right about the modem, of course. If you're going to spend much time on Dog Island, I think it's Blackberry time.
    (And I mean the device, not the ones you pop in your mouth.)

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  7. Jon- can't do the play this time. My daughter's wedding is coming up and I feel that my plate will be fuller than full already. I will definitely be involved with one of the later ones if they'll have me.
    God. I hope I haven't been typecast as a Foley artist.
    The modem thing- damn, damn, damn. My little external modem device used to work on the island but it wonks my computer now. Not sure why. I suppose I could get professional help with that one. And I should.
    Argh.

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  8. I don't even understand how Blackberries work. Satellite? And don't they cost money? Or do they give them away for free to desperate old women?

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  9. They sure as hell are NOT free or this desperate old woman would have one. They work on more or less the same technology as cell phones. But maybe you can't even get a cell phone signal on Dog Island. Really, do we want Dog Island digitized? Next thing, there'll be those hi-rises. Books and drugs, I tell ya.

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  10. Heh-heh. Yeah, we get great cell reception on the island. Far better than here in Lloyd.
    Books I got. Drugs? Well, does vodka count?

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  11. Oh my gosh do you need to practice the age old skill of RELAXATION. I must admit it was a hard one for me to accomplish too, but once I finally got it, ho ho ho.... never gonna be without it, my friend. And your daughter wants to spend a week with you on Dog Island! Oh my gosh to that too. That is so wonderful. Can't wait to hear about it :)

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.