You Don't Deserve It

The Rogue Speaks:

Hahahaha!!!  I can really sink my teeth into this one, and with an absolutely true story.  Anyone who has been following my blog since the beginning knows all there is to tell about my relationship with my parents and siblings that made ours one of the most dysfunctional families you could ever meet.  Rod loves to tell this story—"a Frances story", as he calls it.

The prompt that Jenny has given us for this Saturday Centus is “my mother turned 80 today” and we have 100 words, plus the prompt, to write our little vignette.  But first, you need a little background info on the family dynamic.

The year Mother turned 80, my younger sister (my mother’s clone) planned the party.  The guest list reads like a family reunion, which it was.  As usual, my sister  presented her siblings with their portion of the bill for the food.  We had known this was coming, and I had asked my BIL in advance just what he thought the breakdown would be.  He told me around $200 per sib.  Turns out, that was FAR from correct.  Since none of us, least of all me, were consulted beforehand,  it came as a REAL shock, especially to Rod, who pays the bills.  We were furious, and informed her that the amount was way too extravagant and was totally ridiculous for what was served.  We gave her $200, the amount her husband had quoted, and that was that.

You Don’t Deserve It

My mother turned 80 today.  Family gathered at my brother’s for a catered affair.  As was tradition, my other siblings gave mother gifts they knew they would get back eventually. 

“You’ll get it back when I die,” she always said.  So she got some pretty nice stuff!

I painted and framed a cabin at a plantation in New Orleans.  We had been there for Mother’s 75^t.  The trip, my sister’s idea.

As the party ended, my mother’s oldest sister came through the line of well-wishers.  “A lovely party,” she said, “but you don’t deserve it.”  Everyone laughed. 

Aunt Alice, however, was not joking.

Thus ends my Centus for this week.

 

About a year later, Mother left Atlanta to live with my youngest brother in Knoxville.  We were asked to come fetch the stuff that she left behind.  My sister was in charge of distributing everything. 

My mother had never kept any of the paintings I had given her, except two.  One hung over her fireplace, and the other, the painting of the cabin, hung in the foyer.  I had NEVER intended to give her the one over the fireplace—she just took it, and I was afraid to say “no.”  That was before I got strong enough to think for myself.  The rest of the paintings she had given away.  I asked her once where she had hung the large painting I had given her of my brother’s two girls dressed as pilgrims.  “I was afraid you were going to ask me that,” she said.  So I started asking about all the other paintings I had given her.  Same story—all given away.

When I went to collect my stuff, my sister informed me that she wanted the painting of the cabin.  “You must be kidding,” I told her wryly.

The Harbinger

The Rogue Speaks:

Illustration by Dick Rink

The Harbinger

 

“Our soul is escaped as a bird

out of the snare of the fowlers:

The snare is broken,

and we are escaped.”

Psalms 124.7

It is mid summer, and I am eight months pregnant. My belly is overgrown, and tight, and my ankles and feet are swollen. He fills the tub with tepid water and gently eases me down.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Now lie back so I can wash your hair.”

His hands are gentle as he massages the shampoo into my hair. He washes my back and my arms like one would wash a newborn. He is humming softly under his breath. At least I think it is humming, and then I realize that he is wheezing a little. I frown.

“Are you o.k.?” I ask.

“Right leg, first!” he says, ignoring my question of concern, and he lathers up and shaves my legs, which I can no longer reach. What man does that! Do you know? He stands me up and grabs the towel.

“Ta daa!!” he proclaims.

“This is not a ‘ta daa’ moment,” I tell him woefully, patting my protruding abdomen. “I’m no longer that slender girl I was when we were fresh and new.”

“Ta daa!” we would say when we stripped off our clothes and fell into bed at night—into each other’s arms. We were young and strong, and tanned from the sun—we were beautiful together, and everyone knew it. Now we are older and quieter, but those people who saw us together still know.

He folds the towel, and slips my white cotton gown over my head, and then he guides me to the bed. He puts pillows under my feet to help with the swelling. Then, sliding in beside me, he takes my hand, and in my palm he writes with his finger the words he writes every night. He puts my palm against his lips, and kisses it, sealing those words in forever.

“Our entire life is a ‘ta daa’ moment,” he says softly, “I will love it till the day I die.”

He did.


This post is linked to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.  I am experimenting here with "flash fiction," whatever that is.  I have decided to TRY to get away from  all the political and religious buzz words of 2012.  They are so tiring and depressing, don't you think?  I don't make New Year's resolutions, so this is not one, but I hope to be more creative this year in a new place.  Now if my muses will only support me in this endeavor...

G is for Gift-giving

The Rogue Speaks:

Christmas is over and the decorations are neatly stored away.  The house is tidy and back to semi-normal, as are we.  I have been thinking lately about the tradition of gift-giving at Christmas.  Well, actually, not just at Christmas, but at other appropriate times as well.  I think that over the decades, the reason for exchanging gifts has changed, and not for the better. 

There was an article in the paper a few weeks back about giving gifts to people in the service industry and just how much money one should give.  It's a nice idea, I guess, but those people get paid for what they do.  It was recommended that the person who cuts your hair should get the equivalent of one haircut as a gift.  Considering that after my last haircut, I looked like a person from a concentration camp who had just been deloused, I can guarandamntee you that not only would I NOT pay twice for that disaster, but that the "stylist" has seen the last of me.

I have given cookies to the mail person and to the garbage men, and a little something extra to the waitresses and bagpeople at our club, but I really don't think that someone had to come up with a list of just what is EXPECTED from patrons at Christmas.  That is taking "politically correct" a little too far!!

Giving gifts to family and friends is another story.  Many families are so large and extended that many draw names at Christmas to cut down on the expense.  Others give gifts only to the children, which I tried to do many years ago, but my sister became absolutely livid when I suggested it.  I didn't care.  I did it anyway.  We had a lot of gifts to buy and not enough money to go around. Besides, with the exception of my SIL, they didn't even like me, and considered me the black sheep of the family.

We did, however, always give gifts to our parents.  In my family, my siblings seemed to be in competition with each other when it came to buying a gift for my mother.  My mother, you see, had told us that whatever we gave her when she was alive, we would get back when she died.  I didn't really care too much for that plan, and so I ignored it for the most part.  I did give my mother a notebook of poems I had written one year when I was REALLY strapped for money and could hardly buy gifts for my kids.  Did I get it back when she died? No, because it had been long ago tossed away as clutter.  That can't be said for the gifts my siblings gave her--I'm sure they got those back, especially the jewelry.

That brings me to another area in the field of gift-giving.  Just who is important enough in your life to warrant a gift?  I have a friend who has been married several times, and has lots of children and step-children.  She always gives them gifts because she loves each and every one of them and wants them to know it.  Sometimes they are small gifts when the money is tight, but they are always gifts that have been thought about before their purchase was made, and are special for that person.  Interestingly, the only children who reciprocate on a regular basis are her step-children, who never fail to send her a gift that is always special, regardless of how much or how little was spent.  Only one of her biological children consistently gives her a Christmas present.  That is very disturbing to me.  Do her other biological children think she is not important enough?  Have we pushed the extravagant to the forefront and forgotten about the little things we might give that say far more about love than any expensive bauble or trinket?

I received a fabulous gift this year from a friend with whom I have never exchanged gifts.  It was totally unexpected--so unexpected that I actually thought it WAS a box of microwave popcorn, and didn't even open it at first, but put it on the counter so I could make it later while I watched The Good Wife on t.v.  It wasn't until I reached for it that I discovered that there were little gifts inside--a pair of Christmas socks, a little package of Christmas Kleenex, two little stick-um toys that stick to glass when you toss them, AND a red foam clown nose!!!I love that nose!  I put it on on Christmas day and made everyone laugh!  I love that woman!    I also love the woman who put three exotic tea bags in the Christmas card she sent me.  I thought of her with every sip!

One of the best things about Christmas, and birthdays as well, is that we always know exactly when they are because they are always on the same date every year. This should give one plenty of time to plan ahead and get the gift to the recipient at the proper time. It really is not that hard if one is thoughtful enough. I say that, but I have one hell of a time remembering my BFA's birthday in May. I know it is May for sure, so now I have dubbed May her birthday MONTH, and as long as I send her a card before the actual day, I am safe!!

Do you see what I am getting at here?  It's not what you give, or how much you spend.  It is the thought and love that go into each and every gift that leaves your hands, destined for the hands of someone who is special to you--and someone who thinks you are special as well.

What does this post have to do with artists and the art world??  Well, good gift-giving is an art.  Art is a gift.  ART+ART=ART!!!

This post is linked to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.  Please go and check out the other entries!!!

A Christmas Centus

The Rogue Speaks:

A Christmas Centus

 

 

“The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below…”

White snow.  Bright snow.    At the edge of the field, Mira saw a deer nibbling a patch of grass that had been sheltered from the snow storm by the thick trees.  To her left, she could see Christmas lights twinkling in town.  It was her first Christmas alone since he had died.  Still, she had decorated a tree, and had even put the old electric candles in the front windows.

“Mom?”

Mira turned.  There stood her children, their faces ruddy from the cold.

“Merry Christmas!”  they cried.

 

 

 

 

 

This little story is linked to Jenny's Saturday Centus.  Merry Christmas, Centusians!!!

E is for ENDEMIC

The Rogue Speaks:

One spring and summer, back in the 50's, a polio epidemic broke out in America.  We were young--in grammar school--and polio was horribly frightening to our parents.  We stayed at home, and were not allowed to go to Sunday school, or play with our friends.  We were not allowed to leave our yards, until the epidemic had ended.

Thanks to the work of Drs. Salk and Sabin, polio has been eradicated in America, and actually in most of the world, except Pakistan.  There is a polio epidemic in Pakistan, and the World Health Organization sent health-care workers there to administer the polio vaccine in order to save the lives of children and adults.  Most of those workers are women, who went door to door administering the liquid vaccine to children.

So far, more than eight of those workers have been shot by a militant extremist group, namely the Taliban, who is certain that the immunization is a plot by the CIA to either kill or sterilize the Pakistani people.  The United Nations has suspended the vaccinations on Wednesday, even though polio is endemic to Pakistan, and the country now suffers a serious health crisis.

The Taliban is an Islamic fundamentalist religious/political group that is found primarily in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  The Muslim groups who interpret Islam in a kind and gentle way have been highly critical of the Taliban and its interpretation of Islamic law, and especially of its brutal treatment of women.  Recently, a 15 year old girl, Malala Yousufzai, was shot in the head by the Taliban for speaking out in support of education for girls.

There are many fundamentalist political/religious groups in the world today, and they are not all followers of Islam.  In my opinion, any fundamentalist group who has no tolerance for the beliefs of others, and who seeks to control an entire population and spew disdain and hatred in the face of any people who would not be controlled by them and follow their way of life should be driven out of existence.  There will never be Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards Men as long as anyone is persecuted in the name of religion.

That's my view, and I'm stickin' to it!  Now I'm going out to cut pine boughs for my mantle.  I'm hoping it will hide the pet odors that now seem to be everywhere in my house.  Rod thinks is just my imagination.

This is a MUST READ:     

http://bluegrassnotes.wordpress.com/2012/12/20/the-energy-of-a-billion-focused-on-peace/

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday

Christmas 2012

The Rogue Speaks:

I learned today that Avi Richman, one of the children who was killed in Sandy Hook, was the daughter of one of my son-in-law's former graduate students at the University of Arizona.  Yes, it is a very small world and an unexpected sorrow can touch any and all of us with the speed of a bullet.

The first line of my poem is the prompt Jenny gave us for this Saturday Centus, and it is the basis for my offering this week--the prompt, plus 100 words:

CHRISTMAS 2012

 

 

On the thirteenth day of Christmas,

Here in our nation,

In quiet Sandy Hook

There was no celebration.

 

The stockings had hung

By the chimney with care,

But some little children

Had never been there.

 

To open their presents

And chatter with glee.

A gunman had killed them

And shattered the tree

 

That had stood all bejeweled

With tinsel and light,

But there was no Santa

To come in the night.

 

The country was weeping

And wondering why

Those sweet little babies

All had to die.

 

They’re now all in Heaven,

In God’s tender care.

Maybe one day

We will meet with them there.

 

 

America is unique in the world for its fascination with guns.  It has the highest gun ownership per capita rate than any other nation.  There are 9 guns for every 10 people in this country.  Why?????



Be is for BEING BENEVOLENT

The Rogue Speaks:

In an attachment sent to me by a friend, I read the following:  "A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats its least fortunate amongst them."  I wanted to find just what wise man said that, so I did a little investigating and found that variations of that statement have been said by many wise people over many years.  Here are just a few:

Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is the way that it cares for its helpless members.~Pearl S. Buck (1892-1973), My Several Worlds [1954].

The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children.
~Dietrich Bonhoeffer

A decent provision for the poor is the true test of civilization.
~Samuel Johnson, Boswell: Life of Johnson

"...the moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; those who are in the shadows of life; the sick, the needy and the handicapped. " ~ Last Speech of Hubert H. Humphrey

"A nation's greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members." ~ Mahatma Ghandi

Now you may think that this post is somehow connected to the Christmas season.  It isn't, although it could be.  There has been way too much infighting in Congress these days about how to solve our national debt issues.  The conservatives want to reduce programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, which will seriously hurt the people who need those programs the most.  They strongly object to making the richest people in America have to pay more in taxes, while the opposition thinks that it is only fair that those rich people have the same tax rates as the rest of us.  I think this is pretty reasonable, don't you?

In an exit poll taken on election day, an overwhelming majority of voters  agreed with me on this issue.  Were you one of them?

If you don't think that this is fair, tell me why you don't.  Before you comment, however, here is a  quote for you to ponder.  These words came from the mouth of Jesus Christ, whom many of you profess to follow and serve.  After you have thought about these words from your divine and spiritual leader, send me your comments.

Mark 10: 17-31

"And as he was going forth into the way, there ran one to him, and kneeled to him, and asked him Good Teacher, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life? And Jesus said unto him, Why callest thou me good? none is good save one, even God.  Thou knowest the commandments, Do not kill, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor thy father and mother.  And he said unto him, Teacher, all these things have I observed from my youth.  And Jesus looking upon him loved him and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go, sell whatsoever thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.  But his countenance fell at the saying, and he went away sorrowful: for he was one that had great possessions.   And Jesus looked round about and saith unto his disciples, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God.  And the disciples were amazed at his words.  But Jesus answereth again and saith unto them, Children, how hard is it for them that trust in riches to enter into the kingdom of God!  It is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God."



This is my offering for Alphabe-Thursday.  I would like to thank, once again, Jenny and Steve Matlock for the kindness they showed to me and Rod during our move here to Brunswick.  They went above and beyond the call of duty when we needed help.  We will always be grateful to them.