Tuesday, June 18, 2013

For All the World (at 31 years, today)





We wait for a cloud to cross the road--stand and watch it wisp toward us as if it was an ordinary thing.
Inches from our feet, the land drops away into trees so darkly green they glow blue.
Serrated tops fold ridge over ridge far away into the west.
It looks for all the world as if we could step off.
Just step off and walk back across them to that day on the divide 
when we were going places we'd never been.
On the continent's backbone we'd imagined melted snow flowing down either side beneath us toward opposite ocean, walked through congregated mist into the clear horizon of countless, rolling, smoky miles.

White particles of moisture catch my thoughts and carry them back, a warning, a blessing for us, standing there on that other mountain then.













Be careful, I think. But be unafraid. Some of what comes next will be hard. Hold hands. Don't let go.



The cloud moves through us, moves beyond, exploring treetops, sinking onto sharp branches, seeping into stony ground.
In a long, slow caress the westward sun turns you to gold. Your freckles are gone now, I know, and time has touched your hair, but I can't see you as other might.



The sun is always in my eyes when I look at you.

Facing north we drive the spine of the mountains; sunset gilds us on one side and limns the darkness on the other. The space between us shifts with golden shadows.
You open a hand, I fill it with my own. The rain begins.
Drops spatter, flatten, and lengthen across the windscreen, joining, clinging, sliding like lovers in sinuous patterns across the glass.
They dance for a moment in the fractured, fleeting illumination of headlamps, then fling themselves headlong into the deep and velvet dark.



Will ride out on the same clown she rode in on.



Thanks for visiting. Come again soon.

Leann


Friday, June 14, 2013

REAL MEN DON'T WATCH TELEVISION



 Here's another one of those stories I used to tell in another life in another place. People always ask how much of it really happened, and how much I imagined. The answer is, I'm not sure I can remember anymore.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I was a little girl in Alabama. Many things were the same then. Mamas and Daddies loved their children. Summer came every year. Elvis was the King of Rock and Roll.

Some things were different then. People did fun things that were sometimes dangerous. And sometimes they let their children do them, too.

At least my father did. He was always doing something. He was the most exciting man in Alabama. And the best looking. And the smartest. He was tall.  He was strong.  He was tough.

And he had scars.
L Uncle Ralph, R Daddy, M Rattlesnake

He had a scar on his face from a motorcycle accident.   He had a scar on his hand from wrangling a horse.  He had a scar on his back from surgery.  He told me he had some other scars, but that I didn’t need to see them.

Now, my daddy was very different from my mama in many ways.  But the most important one to me was that he didn’t say no nearly so often as she did.

My daddy said things like, “Sure, I guess you can take your shoes off.  It’s almost April.  Just watch out for the snakes and the fire ants and the sand spurs and that broken glass right over there.”

Or, “Well, why not?  You’re almost four. I guess it’s about time you learned to use a pocketknife.  Here.”

Looking up at me through leaves and branches, he’d say, “No, not yet.  You’ve got about eight feet to go. No, you’re not too high. Keep climbing.  Don’t worry. I’ve got you if you fall.”

My daddy was an optimist.  He believed that whatever happened, most things would turn out all right.  My daddy liked to have fun and take risks.  He liked to drive fast and zigzag a lot.

He was not the least little bit afraid of getting hurt.  But he was terrified of getting bored. 
 
R Daddy, L Tug
One time my daddy said to me, “The hole is not that big.  I’m going to row real hard, and if you bail real fast with your worm can, I believe we'll make it to the other side of the lake in this old boat, easy.”

Another time he said,“Find you a stick.  Not that one, here, get this big one.  Don’t scare him. Now try to work your way up around to his head and distract him with that stick.  See can you get him to clamp down on it.   I’ll slip up on him from behind and grab him by the tail.”

One day he said to me,“Don’t look down.  Just keep on sliding out on your bottom, like me.  Now put one foot on this side of the roof and one foot on that side.  Good.  Now hold this bag of nails for me and hand me one when I ask for it. “

Another day he said, “We're not going to drive all that long way around to post this sign just over there.  Look at that big old log over the gully.  As long as I don't lose my balance, I believe I can just walk right over.  Hold your daddy's jacket.  Watch this.”

Later, in the emergency room when they had patched him up, he’d say things like:

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It don’t hardly hurt at all.”

“I believe this might be a little sore tomorrow.”

Lots of other times my daddy said things like:
1945

“We don’t have to mention this to your mother.  I don’t mean for you to lie to her.  Don’t ever lie to your mother.  That would be wrong.  It’s just that we don’t have to give her all the details if she don’t ask for them.  I mean, if she sees my bandage and asks what happened, we should just say I had a little accident.  And if she notices your shoes are missing, we should say we lost them at the lake. That’s all true.  And it is just the right amount of information.

But now, if your mama says,

‘Did your daddy get that bandaged hand from trying to catch an alligator by the tail while you distracted it with a stick you were trying to get it to bite, and then after it whipped around and bit him, he let go of the tail and he had to grab you up so quick your sandals fell off and the alligator ate one and you left the other one behind in the mud?’

Well then, you’ll have to give her a straight, “Yes, ma’am.”  You cannot lie to your mother.”

I had lots of adventures with my daddy climbing rocks and swinging on muscadine vines, avoiding skunks and catching snakes.  He really was the most exciting man in Alabama.

There were only two things my daddy and I didn’t agree on.   But the first thing was a big one.  It was terrible.  It was so bad I tried not to think about it. 
With Buddy and Bubba


My daddy did not like Elvis.

One time we were driving along in my daddy’s pick-up truck when Elvis came on the radio.  My daddy said, “Here, baby, take the wheel so I can fix that.”

So I took the wheel and steered the truck.  Daddy had to feel around under the seat and find the pliers to change the station because the radio knobs were missing.

Later at Billy Parker’s Garage, while the dents got banged back out of the truck fender, the insurance man came to talk to my daddy.

You ought not to let that four-year-old drive the truck, Frank.  Her legs are too short to reach the pedals.”

 My daddy’s sucked his teeth and shook his head.  I had to change the station, Earnest.  That rock n roll music is dangerous.”

The other thing we didn’t agree about was something that my daddy didn’t like me to do.  He didn’t like me to eat grass.

I pulled up grass for our horses and fed it to them through the fence--clover and false nettles and loosestrife.  One time I tried some and it tasted pretty good, so I kept nibbling it now and then. One day, I just got down on my hands and knees and started eating it like the horses.

When my daddy noticed me doing this the first time he told me to get up from there and go on and play.

When he saw me the second time, he asked me what I was doing.

Eating grass,” I said, spitting out green bits in between words.

Well stop it,” he said.  Then he looked at me like Mama sometimes looked at him.

The next time he caught me eating grass he said,“Stop that.  Don’t you know grass is for horses, not people?  That grass might be poison-- it might make you sick. You need to stop that so you can grow up to be a big strong girl.  Don’t you want to grow up to be a big, strong girl?”

No, sir, ” I said, “ I’d rather grow up to be a horse.”
With Michael

Go inside the house,” he said, “and don’t come back out until you know better than to eat grass.”

But I really wanted to be a horse when I grew up. So I kept eating grass. When he caught me doing it again my daddy was very angry. And he did the scariest thing he could think of.

He took me to my mother.

She was, as usual, at her sewing machine.  Daddy pushed me in the door and said, “Honey, you got to do something with this child. I just caught her eating grass again.” 

Then he limped away.

My mother’s sewing machine stopped whirring.  She turned to me and sighed.  She told me to sit down on a chair. She said, “Sometimes things turn out different than what we plan.  Do you understand what that means?”

I said,  "No ma’am."

 She said,“Let’s think this through together.

Do you remember when you and your daddy rowed the boat across the lake?”

Yes, ma’am.”

Did that turn out the way you planned?”

No, ma’am.”

What happened?”

We got wet.”

My mama clasped her hands and rested them on her knees.“Do you remember when you and Daddy tried to catch that alligator?”

Yes, ma’am.”

Did that turn out like you planned?”


No, ma’am.”

What happened?”

He got bit and I lost my shoes.”

My mother smiled and continued.

And do you remember what happened when I caught you helping Daddy patch the barn roof?”

Yes, ma’am.”

Did that turn out like you planned?”

No, ma’am.”

What happened?”

That was a bad whipping.”

Yes, it was,” my mother said. She held up her hand with her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. She said, “And you came this close to getting one, too.”

I stayed real quiet.

Now. Do you remember when Daddy decided to cross the gully on the hollow log?”

Yes, ma’am.”

Did that turn out the way he planned?”

No, ma’am.”

What happened?”

We had to get a rope and the mule to haul him back out. And an ambulance.  But it was exciting.”

Mama gave me a hard look. I stopped smiling.

The point is, can you see that things don’t always turn out the way you plan?”

Yes, ma’am.”

We’ll now. Let's think about this.  What else eats grass besides horses?”

 I thought. “Cows?”

That’s right.  What if you keep eating grass and you don’t grow up to be a horse like you plan?  What if you keep eating grass and you grow up to be a cow instead? Do you think it would be fun to grow up to be a cow?”

I thought again. No, I didn’t. Horses were graceful.  Horses were fast.  Horses had flowing manes and tails.  Cows were heavy.  Cows were slow.  Cows had bottoms all covered in poop. 

I answered my mother’s question. 

No, ma’am.”

Good,” she said, “because I don’t want you to grow up to be a cow, either.  Just so we both understand -- you will not be eating any more grass.”

No, ma’am, I won’t.”

That’s just fine.  Because you need to understand that if I catch you eating grass again, you are going to get what your father got when I walked outside and saw you sitting up there on top of the barn handing him roofing nails.”

Yes, ma’am.”

That’s my good girl,” my mama said. She gave me a big, long hug with a little pat on my bottom at the end.

Then with a loud screech, the screen door banged open and there was my daddy, smiling wide enough to eat a banana sideways  He had a big stick in one hand and a bucket of feed in the other.  He had a rope coiled around his left shoulder.


 He said to my mama, “If you’re done correcting that child, can you give her your apron, please?  No, not that one. The other one. The red one.”

Then he said to me, “Come on, girl, we got to get moving. We got some work to do. That old bull’s done broke through the fence again. Me and you got to go get him.”

 
Still her daddy's girl
 Happy Father's Day. Thanks for coming. 
 Come again, soon.


Leann