Gonna Eat Alot Of Peaches

August 4, 2008 at 3:49 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
  We went down to the country Saturday–

  I knew I was going to have Miranda that weekend, and thought it would be a great time to get her re-acquainted with my side of the family.  For the last 20 years, it’s been all about The Storm’s family.  She didn’t like my side–hell, she didn’t like her side that much (or anyone at all in fact)–and always had excuses for staying away from them, begging off get-togethers and in general shunning them and keeping me from having contact with them.
  I’m sure she would now say, well, I wasn’t stopping you–you could go see them anytime you wanted.  But I was always dragged along to her family’s events, and I went without complaining.  She owed me the same courtesy.  Bitch.
  Meandering back…The original plan was to go see my brother in the middle of the country, and then continue on to Mount Vernon (IL) where the bulk of my dad’s family is from.  But emails to my Aunte went unanswered, so we backed and filled, shifted plans.  We just went to my brother’s.  I’ll have to get to my other family another time.
  Carl lives in rural Southern Illinois…which is redundant.  He lives in the small town that I grew up in, within a hundred feet or so of the old house I lived in.  We are city mouse/country mouse.  But I love the country, and would love to move back.  I think.
  Instead of leaving Friday, we decided to wait until early Saturday morning, which turned into noon by the time we left and dealt with the traffic from a vehicle fire on the highway.  Yup, liking the country more and more.  But we get out there, finally–not to his house but to The Farm.
  He lives in one town, Venedy, but the farm is in Nashville, Illinois.  Actually it’s south of Nashville.  Forty acres that was the childhood home of his wife Geneva.  When after her parents died, the farm was split among all of the siblings, and then her and Carl bought most of them out, happy to be rid of the hassle.  I think one brother still owns some of the wooded land, but he lives in Chicago.  I don’t know, does he think he’s going to build a cabin and retire down here?  Seems unlikely.
  Anywho, Carl and Geneva always talked of moving to the farm.  Building a house there, and so forth.  Originally, they were going to build on top of the basement and foundation of the old farmhouse that crumbled and fell.  But then the basement walls and foundation crumbled and fell as well.  Probably a good thing that happened BEFORE they started building, otherwise it would have been a bummer. 
  There were several buildings, obviously, since this is a farm.  House, shed, milkhouse, barn, chicken house, outhouse, another shed of non-descript purpose–
  Lots of buildings.
  The barn went, and they sold much of the old, distressed wood.  A few other buildings were too feeble, fragile to use, and were taken down with a huff and a puff.  But there was a brick milkhouse, which Carl was using as his hunting lodge/man’s get-away.  What they ended up doing, which we saw this last weekend, was take the milkhouse and add to it.  The milkhouse was big enough for ….three bedrooms, two baths, a hallway and some storage.
  They added on a slab for the living room-kitchen-dining room.  Lots of space.  My nephew Matt is a professional union carpenter, and actually did most of the work, methinks.  It looks completely professional.  The exterior blocks of the milkhouse show on one side, for rustic charm, but the interior is completely enclosed and modern.  It’s going to look nice when they finish.  They hope to move in by Thanksgiving.
  Then we did return to their house, and I gave Miranda a quick tour of my house.  Where my tree used to be, where the tire swing used to be, the window to my room, where the swingset and the hedges and the grape vines used to be… We walked around to the back, got a look at the barn, which is obviously a conservative, because it is old and white and leans way to the right.  It’ll fall over soon.  The pony shed still stands, but the fence is down.  The big area in the middle of yard is just grass now, but was my parents garden.  Fully the size of a someone’s yard on it’s own.  The entire yard is an acre, which I cut with a riding mower when we lived there.
  We had a good visit with them, and it was good for Miranda to see them.  Miranda rode back to their house with Geneva, and I’m sure they had a good talk about everything.  For the longest time, I didn’t like my brother much, and as soon as I was through with The Storm, I realized it was because of her.  She didn’t like him, and I followed her lead.  She saw him as a threat, I guess.  To what, I don’t know.  Her stranglehold on me?  I feel…Reunited with him.
  And it was good.  It’s different now from what it was when we were kids.  Oddly, I feel like a grown-up when I talk to him.  I guess because he reminds me–by being there–how old I am.

  In other news…
  Their daughter Rochelle moved in with her boyfriend.  Of course, he lives with his mother.  Neither the boy (or, in other words, slightly older man; Shelly is 20) nor her are working.  This, I explained to my daughter, is why socialism is a bad idea.
  The older son Scott, who is married to Kim (not mine, another one) are expecting a baby.  Probably due around Christmas.
  Matt, the middle son, had time to build the house because he’s out of work again.  Hard to keep a job when you keep quitting or getting fired.
  My older daughter got some kind of degree online, and went up to Chicago for the graduation ceremony.  I wondered why they didn’t just do it all online–?
  Miranda and Detroit bonded a bit, and got closer.  It’s hard not to like Miranda–she’s a sweet girl.  And Detroit is pretty likable herself, 27 days out of the month.
  My ex’s house flooded last week. Big rain, creek behind the house overflowed, and it came in the basement door.  I did want a walk-out, didn’t I?  Of course, it’s not mine anymore.  But they had to throw a lot of shit away.  Most of it was my shit, my old shit, shit I never took with, shit I vowed to never give up, shit they finally had an excuse to get rid of. It might have been some closure for them, removing the last remnants of me…
  I brought a Chinese proverb for show-and-tell:  A wise man, in the course of a long live, will have to abandon his luggage several times.

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